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stop-talking · 2 months

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Mike Schmidt x gender-neutral reader

2.8k words

Tags: 18+, no use of y/n, smut, porn with plot, extremely unrealistic scenario but it's funny, mike is a horny bastard & a sub, handjob (mike receiving), post-movie, mike's POV!

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Mike can't even remember the last time he went to the dentist.

Well, he CAN remember, he just doesn't want to. He was a child the last time he went, and only bits and pieces of the experience stuck with him. An old man poking bony gloved fingers into his mouth, having his teeth scraped with a hook, and being scolded for not brushing good enough.

Yeah. The dentist is not a fond memory for Mike. That's part of the reason he hasn't bothered to go in over ten years. (The other part being that he's spent most of early adulthood broke as fuck; and values groceries over trips to the oral hygienist.)

But with his new job, and the healthcare benefits that come along with it... well, he really has no excuse not to go.

So, he sits in a small room with blue walls and ocean-themed décor, squirming on the weird lounge chair. There's a giant mirror over his head, and he can't help but be reminded of those funhouse mirrors at the circus. The ones that twist and contort your face in an unsettling way.

"Hey, Mr. Schmidt, right?" You make your way through the door, scanning over a clipboard.

Is this the dentist? Mike scrambles to sit up in the awkwardly-reclined chair and hold out a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, just 'Mike' is fine." He gives you a weak smile and a firm handshake before leaning back against the chair once more.

You introduce yourself as a dental assistant, and when he thinks about it, that makes more sense. You look young, probably close to his own age. And... rather attractive, actually.

Fuck. Did you just ask him a question?

"Sorry, I... I'm not sure..." He stutters, doing his best not to squirm under your gaze.

This seems to amuse you, because you try and fail to suppress a chuckle. Shit. Was that the wrong answer?

"You're not sure what flavor of toothpaste you want, Mike?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Mike sputters again, making a complete fool of himself. Before he can get out a complete thought, you cut him off.

"It's okay. Want me to just pick for you?"

He nods.

"Alright then, you look like a watermelon kind of guy. Is that fine?"

Another nod.

You smile and pull on a pair of blue gloves, matching your blue scrubs.

"Something tells me you haven't been here before."

"Am I that obvious?"

"Yes... and no. I read it on your medical record just now." You give him a teasing smile and hold up the clipboard you'd been pouring over when you walked in.

Mike laughs nervously at what he's pretty sure was supposed to be a joke, and watches as you pull up a chair.

"I haven't exactly been going to regular checkups." He confesses.

"Well then, let's see what we're working with. Open up for me?"

He squints as you turn on a harsh overhead light attached to the mirror and angle it down so it shines right in his face. Damnit, what is this? An interrogation?

"Open up." You repeat, not asking this time.

Fuck. Why is that kind of...? Ugh, no. Not even going there. Mike tentatively opens his mouth, still blinking through the interrogation-esque lighting above him.

"There you go. A little wider, now."

Your fingers immediately find their way into his mouth, prying his jaws open further.

Mike's eyes go wider than his jaw when you pull out a hook and start scraping it against his teeth. What the fuck? He's feeling more and more like this is some kind of torture and interrogation ritual.

"I know, hun. No one likes the hook. Just relax." You coo, placing a hand on the side of his face and wedging your thumb between his teeth.

He takes a deep breath and melts back into the chair, letting himself be soothed by your voice. Mike tries to focus on your face above him instead of the horrible metal scraping his bones. The backlighting creates a halo around your head as you lean over him, reminding him of an angel.

You seem to notice his staring, because you smile down at him.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mike."

Mike's brow furrows in confusion. How the hell is supposed to answer that with a mouthful of latex-covered fingers and metal torture instruments?

"Uhhh..." He lets out a strained gargle, the only sound he can really make in this moment.

"Interesting..." You chuckle, still scraping away at his teeth.

"Tell me more."

Oh. You're teasing him. Fuck that.

Mike rolls his eyes, trying to make it clear he's not in the mood.

"Sassy, are we? Careful. I do have a hook in your mouth."

Christ. Are you threatening him now? Is this how trips to the dentist are supposed to go? Mike has no idea. So, he lets out another grunt.

"Your teeth actually look really nice. You brush at least twice a day?"

Mike nods slightly, scared to move too much with the hook scraping dangerously close to his gums.

"Good, good. Your teeth are so straight and bright."

Now you're complimenting him? Mike can feel his brain go fuzzy as he stares up into your eyes. The paper mask you're wearing covers the lower half of your face, sure, but your eyes are... entrancing.

He tries to say a quick "thanks", but with your thumb still wedged between his teeth... it comes out as more of an "Aahhh". And sounds suspiciously like a moan. Damnit.

"Got something to say?" You laugh softly, removing your fingers and tools from his mouth.

Mike takes the opportunity to close his mouth and feel over his teeth with his tongue. They feel... different.

"Just, uh, thanks..." He mumbles.

"Of course, you're doing so well."

Fuck. Are his jeans getting tighter?

Mike tries to subtly adjust himself while you turn to grab something off the nearby table. God damnit. This wouldn't happen if he wasn't so damn touch starved.

You put a little hose in his mouth and explain it's to rinse his mouth out. Or something like that. Mike isn't really listening, instead focusing solely on calming the fuck down.

"Oh, and sorry if I'm talking too much. I just transferred over from a pediatric office, so I'm used to having to distract my patients while I work. You probably don't need that, do you?"

He just gargles a response, mouth filling with water.

"Wait, here, don't swallow that."

Mike can't help but think he'd swallow anything if you told him to. Ugh. His jeans are definitely getting too tight.

You stick a different hose in his mouth, and it sucks out the watery saliva mixture.

"You're fine... I haven't been to the dentist since I was a kid, anyways."

"Really?" You ask, eyes lighting up as you lean over him again.

"Y-Yeah."

"Oh, but your teeth look so nice! Keep doing whatever you're doing, hun." You cup his face in your hands, leaning in close and gently pushing his lips back with your thumbs for a better look at his teeth.

Mike squirms slightly, a little intimidated by your firm grip on his face and intense scrutiny of his mouth. He tries to tug the hem of his hoodie down in an attempt to hide his growing boner. Fuck, he feels like such a pervert.

Of course, his movement only draws your attention down to his... ''problem area''.

You must be pretending not to notice, because your eyes flick back over to the table. As you get up to grab something, you casually bump the door with your hip and it swings shut.

What's that for? Mike is too embarrassed to ask, so he just waits patiently as you make your way back over with a toothbrush.

"Open for me." You playfully tap his lips with a finger, and Mike does as asked.

"Good, good... we're almost done here."

Mike feels a lot more relaxed like this. Your voice is soothing, and he stares up into your eyes as you brush his teeth. It's strange to have someone else do it for him, but hey, at least you're not using the damn hook anymore.

After a minute or so of this, he starts to calm down, the tent in his pants dying down as well. Thank god.

"Alright, gonna rinse your mouth again. If you have any needs or concerns regarding your teeth, now's the time to tell me."

Mike gently shakes his head no, mouth filling with water as you rinse his teeth with the little hose.

"You sure? Nothing else you want?"

Are you... flirting with him? Or is this just how these things go? Mike's head spins as you put the toothbrush back in his mouth again.

"Just gonna brush your tongue... Say 'ahh' for me!"

Mike lets out a weak ''ahh'', that, again, sounds extremely similar to a moan. Fuck.

You slowly brush his tongue, going further and further back. Mike starts to shift in his seat, wondering just how much of his tongue he's supposed to be brushing. He certainty never goes this far, it's almost at the back of his throat... Still, he tits his head back slightly, letting you go even deeper.

"Damn. No gag reflex, or just used to this sort of thing?" You tease, smirking so obviously he can see it through the mask.

Okay, yeah. You're definitely flirting with him.

Mike just sputters and chokes in response, unable to speak while practically deepthroating the damn toothbrush.

"Sorry, let me get that out..."

When his mouth is finally his own again, free of intrusive fingers and oral hygiene instruments, he clears his throat. There's a familiar tightness in his jeans, and he's sure by now that you've noticed.

"Uhh... I..."

You take off your mask and he can finally see your whole face again. Your smile is attractive, no doubt, but also a little... hungry? You want something from him.

Mike isn't sure he could resist if you asked.

"So, you're sure there's nothing else... bothering you?" You ask, eyes trailing down to the tent in his jeans.

Ah, fuck. There's no hiding it now, huh? Mike tries to at least sit up slightly in the chair, but ends up a squirming mess instead.

"I..." He starts, swallowing hard.

"Are you offering...?"

As if to answer his unspoken question, you stand up from your chair and throw a leg over his.

He watches with wide eyes as you inch up his legs, straddling him and sitting just below his crotch.

"What do you think?"

Holy shit. What kind of a question is that? He "thinks" this is the hottest thing that's ever happened to him.

"More." He mumbles, bringing his hands up to rest on the sides of your thighs.

That's all the confirmation you need, apparently. Before he can even process what's happening, you're grinding against his clothed cock.

Mike moves his hands up to your hips, watching as you remove the blue latex gloves with your teeth. God, that's got to be the most arousing thing he's ever seen, and he's not even sure why. He feels like a victorian man seeing an ankle. Is he really that goddamn desperate?

You brace your hands against his chest and lean in close, even more so than when you were prodding your fingers in his mouth.

Fuck. Mike decides he is definitely that desperate.

"You want this, don't you?" You ask sweetly, hot breath brushing against his lips.

He nods eagerly. Yes, he wants this. More than anything.

"Use your words, hun."

"I want this." He whines, bucking his hips up to meet yours while you grind on him. "I want you."

"I know." You whisper, bridging the small remaining gap between the two of you.

Mike kisses you back in earnest, moaning into your mouth when he finally feels your tongue slip between his lips.

He'd be content to stay like this forever, if his cock wasn't absolutely aching in his jeans. The grinding feels nice, yes, but he doesn't want to cum like this.

When you finally pull away and sit back up on him, he's left gasping for breath. Holy shit. Is this really happening?

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" You ask, humming happily as you unzip his jeans.

Mike stammers out a response as you tug his pants down, squirming to help you get them off faster. He wishes you'd take the boxers off too, but he's not gonna push his luck.

"I-I couldn't help It... You're so..." He just looks up at you with pure admiration, letting his hands slide down your thighs.

"...perfect." Yeah, that's just about the only word describe you. No other would do you justice, not with how amazing you look on top of him like this.

"And you're already leaking."

Mike whimpers as you grope his dick, palming at it through his boxers. Fuck, you're not wrong. He can see the wet spot growing on his underwear. He tightens his grip on your thighs, desperate to feel you.

"More." He chokes out. "Please."

"Hmm... should I give you more?" You taunt him, giving his aching cock a firm squeeze through the fabric of his underwear.

"Yes!"

Mike is nearly shouting at this point, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He can only pray the room is somewhat soundproof.

"Well, I guess you have been good for me..."

You slowly peel down his boxers, and his dick springs up to slap against his stomach. A steady stream of precum is leaks from the tip, and his back arches from the sudden sensation.

"Fuck... yes... good... so, so good for you..." He bucks his hips up into nothing, desperately pulling you down his lap by your thighs.

He isn't thinking straight at this point. It doesn't matter that you're at work. It doesn't matter you're fully clothed. He needs you on his dick. NOW.

"Woah, woah... slow down, hun." Laughing, you take his hands by the wrists and move them to the armrests.

He doesn't resist, throwing his head back and groaning. He'd let you do whatever you want to him at this point. He just wants to cum.

"Please..." He whimpers, gripping the armrests tightly as your hand inches towards his cock.

"You gonna be good for me? And wait till I give you permission to cum?"

He nods, still bucking his hips up into your hand as you wrap your soft hand around his length.

"Say it." You demand, still just holding it, unmoving as he slips further and further into pure desperation.

"I'll be good f'you. I'll wait. I promise. S'good..."

Mike mumbles a barely-coherent response, half nonsense as he fucks your hand with even more intensity. He's losing it already, and you've haven't even started-

Fuck.

You start to jerk him off at a moderate pace, hand moving in synch with his hips.

"That feel good, hm?"

He just moans a response, too fucked out to form words. His hips stutter and he nearly comes just from the way you're talking to him.

When you take your hand away suddenly, he groans, reaching out to grab your hips and pull you closer. You can't end this for him. Not yet.

Thankfully, you didn't seem eager to put a stop to things. You slide down his lap, resting right up against his cock.

"I swear, if you cum on my uniform, I'll make you lick it all up."

Shit. Mike nearly does just that as you lean down and furiously make out with him. It's the toothbrush all over again, with the way your tongue is punching down his throat. He's never felt this desired before.

One of your hands gently tugs at his curls, and the other pulls his lower back up into an arch as you grind against him. Fuck, If you don't slow down...

"I'm g-gonna... gonna cum..." He breaks the kiss, whining and desperately pushing back on your hips, trying to keep from finishing. He wants to be good for you. He really does.

"Do it." You whisper, moving down to kiss his neck as he whimpers.

"Cum for me."

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Mike wakes up in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping for air. Shit, he had been suffocating with his face in a pillow.

And... fuck. Probably jutting his hips into the mattress, too.

He doesn't even have to look at his shorts to know they're ruined. Damnit. Another wet dream. At this point, he almost preferred the reoccurring nightmares. Almost.

Hey, his next dentist appointment is in... what, three months? Maybe this time he'd work up the nerve to ask you out.

Probably not.

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Author's note: I'M SORRY. Literally no one asked for this. Probably no one but me has ever gone "haha what if Mike has a praise kink and gets hard at the dentist". But it was so funny to me?? I had to stop what I was working on and write it IMMIDEATELY. I hope it wasn't too deranged.

I like to imagine his little dream is at least half true. Like, he's touch starved and ended up with an over-friendly oral hygienist who joked with him a little too much. And it made him feel things. But everything from the point of the door being closed and onwards is just his own twisted fantasy.

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mikeschmidt #fnafmovie #fnaf movie fanfic #mike schimdt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson fanfic #jhutch1992

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

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it's just dinner

Summary: Another installment from the Dentist AU, sequel to the follow up; You and Wanda enjoy a quiet dinner at your home--or so you thought

Word count: 3k | Tags: Fluff, Some Blood (lol), Wanda being clumsy

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: There will be one more installment after this. It's been really fun writing something so wholesome :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

Two hours earlier

Every attempt at a date with Wanda Maximoff is a tragicomic misadventure.

The first attempt was promising: a quaint dinner at a hidden gem of a restaurant. Yet, on that very day, your apartment's plumbing decided to rebel, turning your living space into a mini lake. You remember Wanda's sympathetic chuckle on the phone, suggesting a rain check. The next date was set, but it still wasn’t in the cards. Just as you were picking out a shirt, Wanda’s phone buzzed. An urgent mission. She sent an apologetic message, punctuated with a little red-faced emoji. “Next time,” she promised.

Your third attempt seemed foolproof. A coffee date, something short and sweet. Yet, irony dripped as you got a call from the dental clinic. An emergency extraction that couldn't wait. As you gloved up, you couldn’t help but think of the universe’s odd sense of humor.

(Maybe it's trying to send a message, and you've been too stubborn to listen.)

But resilience is your middle name. So, here's attempt number four.

A cozy dinner and a film at your place. Simple. No grand expectations. If, by chance, this date still falls through, at least you're already home. Your bed awaits, just steps away, to provide solace for any potential disappointments.

As the clock ticks closer to the agreed-upon time, you arrange the table, blending classic dinnerware with contemporary accents. Wine glasses shimmer under the subdued lights, their elegant curves catching the candle's dance. The gentle melodies of a classical piano accompany the inviting aroma of the goulash, creating a setting that might just captivate Wanda's heart.

Not that you’re already aiming for her heart. That'd be rushing things, wouldn't it? Only a week ago, you and Wanda were each wary of the other—you, daunted by her powers, and her, intimidated by, well, you.

A mere dentist.

In your bedroom, you've changed outfits multiple times, finally choosing one that finds the right balance between casual and slightly dressy. Every detail matters, from the watch you're wearing to the cologne you've spritzed.

Sure, there's a hint of anxiety, but above all, you're buzzing with anticipation. You can picture it—Wanda's appreciative smile as she digs into the goulash, both of you snuggled up during the movie, and then chatting about everything and nothing as you both start to get sleepy.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You see a message from Wanda: “On my way. Can't wait!” accompanied by a heart emoji. Your spirits rise instantly. You send a silent plea to every god out there who’s watching, hoping for no more mishaps tonight.

Time seems to move both too slow and too fast. Every tiny noise from outside makes you jump, wondering if it's her arrival. You go over your preparations one more time: the temperature of the goulash, the volume of the music, the soft glow of the candles.

A soft knock sounds at your door. The moment has arrived. Your heart races as you move to answer it, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You open the door, and there she stands—Wanda Maximoff, perhaps the most powerful Avenger, clad in skin-tight jeans, a long coat over her shoulders and the same nervous smile you’re wearing right now.

“Hi,” she murmurs softly, that European lilt making it sound almost musical.

“Hey, Wanda,” your voice quivers ever so slightly. “Please, come in.”

She steps inside, and you instinctively reach out, helping her slip off the long coat. The soft fabric is warm from her body heat, and you can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you suggest with a gesture towards the plush sofa. She gracefully obliges, her eyes scanning the room.

She takes a moment, head tilted ever so slightly, her nose twitching as it picks up on the scent wafting from the kitchen. “Is that... goulash I smell?” she says, eyes twinkling in delight.

A pleased chuckle escapes you. “Someone's got a good nose.”

In the midst of tweaking the table's placements, you're painfully conscious of every inch of space between you and her. Wanda Maximoff, right in your apartment, seated gracefully on your sofa. The room temperature is already set at the lowest, but you feel unexpectedly warm in your clothes.

You take a few deep breaths. Center. Ground. Every preparation led to this moment.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you almost miss the soft rustling from the living room. Wanda's eyes are now fixed on the elegantly wrapped gift resting on your coffee table. The parchment paper, crinkled just right, holds a tag with her name in your neat handwriting.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “For me?” she asks, her finger running over her name on the tag.

“Uh, yes,” you stammer, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I thought...well, it's our first, you know, date... and I wanted to get you something.”

She gives you a soft, appreciative smile, her fingers deftly unwrapping the gift. The sight of the Sokovian cookbook draws a genuine, surprised chuckle from her. “You really did your homework,” she teases.

“You're worth the effort,” the words slip out before you can reign them in, and suddenly the room feels a few degrees warmer. But Wanda doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems... pleased.

“The jasmine rice will be ready in just a few minutes,” you mention, as you drape the apron on a hook by the kitchen entrance. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. It's just dinner. With Wanda Maximoff. No pressure.

You then make your way to join her on the sofa, deliberately choosing a spot that's comfortably distant. Not too close to be presumptuous, but not too far to seem distant. Or so you think.

However, Wanda doesn't let the spacing go unnoticed. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?” she asks with a playful pout.

You blink, momentarily lost for words. “Oh, I just... thought I'd give you some space?”

Wanda smirks, tilting her head slightly, “You're sweet, but you can sit a bit closer if you'd like.”

Swallowing your nerves, you slide a tad bit closer, closing the gap. Now, your knees are almost touching. The proximity introduces you to more intricate details: the scent of her perfume, the subtle shadow on her lids, the faint tint on her lips.

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Much better, don't you think?”

You gulp, trying to swallow down your body’s reaction to her voice. “Yes,” you breathe out, attempting to find your bearings again. “Definitely better.”

“So,” Wanda starts, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “How does someone like you end up as a dentist?”

“Well, my dad was one. After high school, I honestly didn't have a clear path in mind.” You shrug, your gaze distant as you recollect. “It was kind of a 'fall into the family business' scenario.”

“But do you enjoy it? Being a dentist, I mean.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I made the right choice,” you confess, a far-off look in your eyes. “I had other hobbies—gardening, painting. There was a time when I thought of diving into the arts.”

“But you didn't?”

You shake your head. “Practicality won over passion, I guess. Dentistry is stable, and I do like it.”

She studies you for a moment. “Do you ever regret it?”

You ponder for a second, thinking about all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. But then, your eyes find Wanda's, and a smile creeps onto your face. “Well, being a dentist did allow our paths to cross. So, in that sense, I can't really complain, can I?”

Wanda's cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink, the faint blush enhancing her striking features.

You’re not entirely sure how you’ve survived so far on this date.

Clearing your throat to ease the building tension, you attempt to shift the topic. “Speaking of paths, how did you end up becoming an Avenger? If you don't mind me asking.”

Wanda's expression quickly darkens, and an immediate regret washes over you. You wish you could retract your question, hating the thought of being the one to bring such sadness to her eyes.

Wanda tells you her story with a distant look in her eyes, like she's replaying a bad dream. She tells you about the Battle of Sokovia, how she lost her twin brother in the midst of it, and how she felt totally alone afterward. With no family or close friends left, she ended up with the Avengers. At first it was a choice of convenience, but she soon started to think of them as her new family.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” you say, not knowing what else to say. You’ve never experienced such pain and loss, especially with your parents and sister living in different states, leading their own lives.

“Thank you,” she whispers, the edges of her eyes glistening. “It's... difficult. Sometimes more than others.”

The soft beep of the rice cooker slices through the heavy atmosphere. You turn towards the kitchen, then back to Wanda, offering an apologetic smile. “Looks like the rice is ready,” you mention, almost sheepishly.

She laughs softly at your politeness and says, “Good. I’m starving.”

Wanda Maximoff has a big appetite.

This becomes amusingly clear when she polishes off her plate and shyly requests more rice, eventually consuming the entire portion you'd prepared for the evening. Honestly, you hadn't anticipated this outcome, especially since you weren't entirely sure how goulash was supposed to taste. But seeing Wanda devour nearly all of it not only boosts your confidence in your cooking but also in how the date is progressing.

Honestly, it's been ages since you've been on a date. You keep wracking your brain for topics, wondering if you're saying the right things. But thankfully, it's Wanda who takes the lead, her inquiries steering the chat in various directions. And each time she poses a question, that unique Sokovian accent of hers tugs at you, almost hypnotic. With every word, every soft-spoken syllable, you can feel yourself being drawn closer into Wanda's magnetic pull. It's both exhilarating and terrifying—mostly because you're not sure if you ever want to resist.

Just as you're about to suggest some movies to watch, Wanda's phone rings. You watch her facial expression shift slightly as she answers, her tone professional and measured. “I understand. I'll be right there in an hour,” she says, ending the call and turning to you with a regretful look.

At least you both got through a nice meal. Still, you’re a little disappointed.

“It's the compound. I've got to head back soon. Not an urgent situation, but...” Wanda trails off, her eyes reflecting her regret.

“How long do we have left together?” you ask, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“About thirty minutes?” Wanda estimates. She then glances at the aftermath of your dinner, “Let me help you clean up.”

“You really don't have to.”

“It's easy. I can just use my powers,” she says, beaming a little proudly.

“I’m intrigued,” you say.

The idea of seeing her powers up close excites you, but as she begins to wave her hand, intending to levitate the dishes, something goes wrong. A misdirected wave of her magic, perhaps due to her eyes being trained on you as she watches your every reaction, causes a sharp knife from the counter to fly towards you. You only realize what's happening when you feel a sting on your arm.

Blood starts to seep through your shirt and Wanda's eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god, I didn't mean to... I'm so sorry,” she stammers, her face pale.

You look down, trying to assess the damage. It's not too deep, but it's definitely more than a scratch.

“Don't worry, it was just an accident,” you reassure her, but the sharp pain suggests you might need medical attention.

Wanda immediately wraps your wound with a clean towel and offers to take you to the hospital. It's quite the unexpected turn for your first date, and as the evening winds down with you in a hospital room, getting stitches, you can't help but chuckle at the situation.

Wanda's face, however, is a picture of raw concern, which to be frank, you find endearing, albeit in a dire context. She stays uncharacteristically silent, her expressive eyes darting between the cut on your arm and the sterile surroundings of the hospital room.

“Hey,” you break the silence, “Talk to me.”

“You know... maybe it's best if we don't see each other again,” she begins, hesitantly. “It's just the first date, and I've already sent you to the hospital.”

Wanda Maximoff is breaking up with you.

Before you two are even an item.

And the first date hasn't even finished yet.

And you’ve yet to kiss her.

(You really, really want to.)

“You can't break up with me,” you blurt out.

She looks bewildered, “Why not?”

“Because,” you smirk, wincing a bit as the doctor tightens a stitch, “We're not together. Yet. And if this is your way of getting out of a second date, you're going to have to try harder.”

She looks at you, searching your face as if trying to discern whether you're joking or not. But you're serious. Deadly serious.

Then an idea comes to her. “Fine, then I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“What–”

“I mean, if we're doing this, it's so I can properly end—”

“No,” you say, your smile widening, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Wanda Maximoff, I don’t want to be your girlfriend.”

Her expression grows more solemn, her tone somber. “You need to understand. Being with me is nowhere near normal. I’m dangerous. Everything around me, everything I deal with—it's all dangerous.”

The smile doesn’t leave your lips. “I understand,” you say, “But I still refuse to be your girlfriend.”

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Ask me again on our second date,” you suggest, nodding appreciatively at the doctor to subtly hint it's time for him to leave, as he’s been watching you both fall into each other a bit too long now.

“And I can’t have you blasting ‘Lips of an Angel’ throughout the compound if we call it quits now, can I?”

Wanda's eyes widen in horror, her hands flying to her face. “How did you even know about that?”

“Vision,” you chuckle. At this point, you’ve totally lost it for this girl. “He sent me a message, thanking me on behalf of Natasha for finally getting you to switch off that track.”

Wanda groans, her face still partially hidden behind her hands. “I can't believe he did that. I'm never going to hear the end of it now.”

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, leaning in closer. “I think it’s adorable.”

Still, Wanda remains quiet, and even though she’s the one who can read minds, you can hear just how loud her thoughts are. Gently, you grasp her hand and stand, pulling her up with you.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ve been patched up,” you note, motioning to your arm. “I’d rather not end our date inside a hospital. Come on.”

You insist on driving her back to the compound, despite Wanda's deep concern that you’d be able to handle a stick shift given your recent injury. However, after teasingly reminding her that she’s technically "in debt" for the unintentional knife incident, she finally gives in.

You really just don’t want the night to end with her simply walking away.

And while the two of you bickered over the technicality that Wanda can't really break up with you, there's an underlying fear in you that perhaps this might be the last time you see her.

The drive ends up being a quick one, and in just fifteen minutes, you’re pulling up the compound’s spacious driveway.

Both of you sit there for what seems like an eternity, neither willing to make the first move. Your heart races, beating loudly in your chest, as you keep stealing glances at Wanda, trying to read her expression.

“I... um... had a good time tonight, despite the… yeah,” you stammer out, trying to fill the silence. “Thank you for being there, Wanda.”

She nods, lips parting as if she's about to say something but doesn't. “Thank you for the meal and the cookbook,” she finally says, her voice soft, almost fragile. “And I'm really sorry about your arm.”

“You're welcome, Wanda,” you reply, your heart heavy in your chest.

She offers a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and opens the car door. For a fleeting second, the thought of pulling her back crosses your mind, but you squash it down, not wanting to push your luck. As she steps out, you hope for a 'see you soon' or even just a casual 'later'. But nothing comes. And with a quiet thud, the door closes behind her, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel, mentally kicking yourself for letting Wanda do the dishes. Maybe none of this would've happened, and she might still be looking forward to another date. You're so lost in your ‘what-ifs’ that you almost miss the sound of hurried footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the passenger door swings open, and before you can react, Wanda is back inside. She leans over the center console, gently cradling your face with one hand and pulling you into a soft, tentative kiss.

It's over in a heartbeat, leaving you both breathless.

She pulls away slightly, cheeks flushed, and her eyes brighter. “I didn't want to leave things like that,” she admits.

You smile, still in shock from the unexpected moment. “I'm glad you didn't,” you say, leaning in for another kiss.

Even if Wanda had thrown every knife in the room at you, it would still rank as the best date ever.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader

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lev1hei1chou · 4 months

Text

Dentist Calls

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 600 Synopsis: Gojo has a cavity. Masterlist

You were enjoying a quiet evening at the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High when Gojo Satoru, your lover, barged into your room, clutching his jaw with a pained expression. You've never seen him like this before. His usual confident grin was replaced by a frown as he winced in pain.

"Hey, is everything okay?" you asked, setting your phone aside.

Gojo exhaled dramatically, "Ugh, I think I have a toothache."

"A toothache? What happened? Did someone actually end up hitting you, the strongest sorcerer?" you quipped.

He shook his head, "No, it's those darn sweets. I think I might have eaten too many, and now my tooth hurts."

You couldn't help but crack up at the idea of the mighty Gojo Satoru being taken down by his own love for sweets. "Well, maybe it's about time you reduce the amount of sugar you consume, love."

He pouted, "But sweets are the love of my life… after you!"

You sighed, "Look, if you're in pain, you need to visit the dentist. Just ignoring the pain doesnt make it go away."

Gojo huffed and crossed his arms, "No way! I hate dentists. They're so… dentist-y. Ugh."

Rolling your eyes, you stood up, "You're just being overly ridiculous. We're going to the dentist, and that's final."

Despite all of his protests and attempts to weasel out of this situation he created by himself, you managed to convince Gojo to accompany you to the dentist. On the way, you wondered if he was just an overgrown child while watching how he whined and complained. You almost regretted your decision of bringing him here. However, once you arrived at the dental hospital, Gojo's protests reached a whole new level.

"Y'know Sugarpuff, I think I feel better already. Maybe we should just go get some ice cream instead?" he suggested, trying to use his irresistible charm, hoping you'd agree.

Much to his chagrin, you crossed your arms, giving him a stern look, "Nice try, Satoru. We're here now, and you're getting those teeth checked. You are not escaping." He finally came in terms with the fact that his attempts were futile.

Reluctantly, he clutched the back of your tshirt and followed you into the dentist's office, where he continued to make a show of his displeasure. The dentist, a stern woman with a no-nonsense attitude, took one look at Gojo and sighed.

After a examining thoroughly, she confirmed that Gojo did indeed have a cavity. He groaned, sending you a glare as if you were to blame for this.

The dentist explained the procedure in detail, and Gojo looked at her with pure shock and disbelief, as if she had just announced the end of the world. Throughout the appointment, he winced at every sound of the equipment and complained about the discomfort constantly.

Once it was finally over, you couldn't help but smirk at Satoru's pout as you left the dentist's office together. "Feel better now?" you teased.

He grumbled with annoyance plastered over his face, "I still think ice cream would have been a better cure."

You laughed, "Well, maybe, try not to eat so many sweets. Or at least, floss regularly."

As you entered the car, he shot you a playful glare, "You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?"

You smiled, "Just consider it payback for all the times you've made my life difficult."

Despite the protests, Gojo couldn't deny that his toothache was finally taken care of. But he'd never admit it though. And maybe, just maybe, he would think twice before indulging in so many sweets in the future. No promises.

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reality-detective · 3 months

Text

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Add the ingredients you feel you need the most :

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- 🌿 (1Tsp) Rosemary & Sage: Protects gums, fights bacteria.

- 🌺 (1/2Tsp) Clove : Eases sensitivity, comforts teeth.

- Alternative Medicine 🤔

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superhoeva · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄

next chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist

⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")

⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3

⬩ word count 6.4k(!)

The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.

A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.

Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.

Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.

You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry, yes?”

She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”

Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.

“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”

“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”

There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”

“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”

Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds.

Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.

As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.

The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.

“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”

Well, fuck. Fuck.

The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.

You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.

“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”

“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”

You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”

Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.

“Thank you.”

The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.

He sniffs, clearing his throat.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”

You blink.

“You’re doing the… the stuff?”

Dr. Morales blinks.

“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”

“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”

A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments.

“Considering what?”

Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.

“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”

Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.

“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.

Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.

Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.

It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.

“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.

“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”

“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”

Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.

“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.

“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”

Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.

“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”

Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.

“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”

“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”

Dr. Morales laughs to himself.

“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.

“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”

Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.

“I don’t mind.”

Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.

His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.

Damn it.

“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?”

He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?”

“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.

“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”

.・゜゜・

You’re going to be the death of him.

He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.

Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.

Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.

“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.

“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”

You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.

“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”

Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.

Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.

“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”

Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.

He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.

The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”

You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.

“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”

“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”

Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.

“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”

“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”

Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.

“That’s perfectly fine.”

You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.

God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.

Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.

Of course.

“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”

“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”

“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”

Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.

It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.

“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”

Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.

“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”

Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.

“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”

The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.

“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”

There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.

You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.

A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.

Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

When you gasp again, he bites his lip.

“You like that? You like it when I say that?”

You nod.

“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.

“Yes, I like it when you say that.”

“When I say what?”

You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.

“A good girl.”

Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”

Your turn.

“You really like them?”

Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.

“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”

You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.

“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.

Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.

His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.

“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.

All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.

“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”

A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.

“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.

A pathetic nod from you.

“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.

Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.

You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”

It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.

“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”

Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.

“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”

He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.

Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.

Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.

He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.

Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.

The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.

Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.

“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”

God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.

Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.

After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.

Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.

He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand.

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”

Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.

“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.

Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.

He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.

“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”

“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.

“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”

“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.

His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”

You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.

Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break.

You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.

“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”

The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”

Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.

You’re close. You’re so close

“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”

Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit.

You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.

A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.

It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales.

His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.

“Fucking look at you, querida.”

“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”

“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”

Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.

The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.

“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.

Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?

“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”

“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.

The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.

Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.

“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”

He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.

“Is it required that I leave right away?”

Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.

“Really?” You blink at him.

“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”

Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.

“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.

“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.

His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”

That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–

No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.

“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”

It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.

“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #au: the study

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shou-jpeg · 8 months

Text

-Back on the Beat-

Part 4. 03

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

“Your teeth are going to rot at this rate, p’Kim," Chay says, eyeing Kim’s drink critically as they sit down at a table in the back corner of the tea shop.

“I’ve got a good dental plan,” Kim says, taking a sip. “And it’s worth the risk.”

Chay perks up, leaning forward in his chair eagerly. “You like the classic flavour then?”

Kim hums, looking down at his drink and using the straw to mix the little pearls around the bottom of the cup. “The tapioca pearls are a little weird, but the flavour of the tea is nice.”

Chay beams at him.

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

“I don’t really know what to do with myself. I still love music, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to pursue as a career after all. I wanted to be what your music was to me and help people and be there for them when they need it most... but I'm not sure being a musician is how I want to achieve that goal.”

Kim shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the piano, Chay’s guitar is abandoned to the side, long forgotten in the wake of their conversation. Kim doesn’t regret asking Chay about his gap year, but he wishes he didn’t feel so responsible for causing Chay to drop his university interview. Chay had just finished telling him about how Kim’s rejection was only one of several reasons he did so, but he still feels that responsibility like a sharp knife to his chest. He’s also unsure if Chay is just downplaying his involvement in light of their rekindled not-relationship.

“Do you think you will go back next year?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Chay replies. “I want to, but I need to figure out everything else first. Music was a pipe dream to a future with hia that helped get us through some tough times, but it’s not a realistic future. Not for me anyway.”

Kim looks down at his hands.

“But.. I still want to keep making music, p’Kim. I like making music with you and coming here to jam regularly."

Kim looks up and makes eye contact with Chay's warm expression for a moment before looking away, unsure what to say. A light smile tugging at his lips and a warm feeling in his chest.

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

November 21st, 8:08pm

Kim has been strumming around on his guitar for hours now, feeling uninspired but with an unquenchable urge to create. His cat, Jimbo, has been sleeping on the sofa, only waking breifly every now and then to groom.

He thinks of his brothers.

Khun and his melodrama that at times feels more like a front than genuine feeling. Khun’s been messaging him recently with requests to come visit and watch a new series that dropped. Apparently it’s a BL that he just “has to watch, Kim. It’s about the mafia! It looks very cool and romantic!”

He should make time for him next week.

He thinks of Kinn, his desperate need to please their pa clouding his view forward. Kinn would resent him for saying it, so he doesn’t, but sometimes he thinks Kinn stands as more of a pawn to their father than he even realises. His agency a part of a larger, more complicated plan. Porsche is also part of that plan, though Kim isn't sure the romance had been anticipated.

Kim does his best to keep Kinn safe from a distance, the details of Kinn’s month’s schedule in a short, neat stack on his desk across the room.

He thinks of Chay and their developing not-relationship. He doesn’t know what to think of some of their interactions lately, but Kim has been feeling that simmering hope boil within him with each message, each not-date, each little smile…

He looks down at his note book, chords written down messily. They sound nice, but they feel a little hollow and unexciting.

Kim has an idea.

He hesitates a little, but then hits record on his voice recorder app, plays his notebook chords, and sends them to Chay before he can psyche himself out of it.

He loves making and talking music with Chay, why should he limit sharing that to their studio sessions? Chay has a habit of saying just the right thing that sparks Kim’s creative flow, and sometimes just talking to Chay gets him out of his head.

Kim smiles down at his phone softly. God.

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

November 22nd, 7:30pm

"Hey" Kim says into the his phone. He has it wedged between his cheek and his sholder while he uses both hands to chob vegetables.

"Hi!" Chay's chipper voice comes through the speaker, "what are you up to, p'Kim?"

He slides the chopped carrots into a small bowl, moving on to the red capsicum. "I'm cooking dinner. Pad Phak."

"P'Kim, you cook?" Chay sounds surprised which... okay fair. Kim is a child of wealth and living in the very building Kim grew up in, Chay has seen first hand how meal times tend to work.

"Mmm. I like it, it's fun."

"Oh my God" Chay breathes quietly into the mic. Kim isn't sure what to make of that. He thinks it's a good thing... Chay sounded almost awed. Does Chay like it that Kim can cook?

He suddenly feels a little proud of himself, and maybe slightly pompous. "I'll cook for you sometime," he says, "I make a really good pad kra pao."

"Yes!" Chay says excitedly, causing Kim to jump. He continues in a softer tone "I'd love that, p'Kim."

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

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First

Playlist

#kinnporsche #kimchay #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #porchay pachara #i want you bach au #i want you bach au part 4 #got it finished!#the real reason this is late is it was my best friends birthday yesterday and he decided what he wanted to do for that was #to spend all night playing video games with me and my other housemate #so i didn't get to finish this #updates to the playlist for this one!

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sokoviansimp · 10 months

Note

Package au 🥺

In the last fic you said about the habit of sucking her thumb. Maybe you could do something of wanda and Nat trying different things to get her to stop, pacifiers, chewies, ect and end it how you want

Bad Habits

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒ Summary: Wanda and Nat try different techniques to get you to stop sucking your thumb.

✒ Tags and Warnings: thumb-sucking, stubbornness, fluff

✒ Author's Note: I really appreciate the request! Sorry, it took so long.

✒ Word Count: 1815

✒ Read Time: 9 minutes

Masterlist : The Package AU : Socials

With all of the trauma that you had gone through thus far, one thing that you clung to like a security blanket was the habit of sucking your thumb. Wanda saw this as it happened but she acknowledged that it was normal for children your age to take part in such a coping mechanism so she didn’t bother interrupting your actions until now. She wanted to give you other ways to draw comfort from so that you wouldn’t become dependent on the action for so long that you can’t break it when you begin to lose your baby teeth.

Natasha and Wanda brainstormed different strategies to help you break this habit, knowing it was important for her dental health and overall well-being. Their first attempt you could call the gentle approach. Together they agreed that the next time they saw you take part in the action they would try to talk you out of it.

The opportunity first presented itself to Natasha as she was sitting with you in the common room watching cartoons. She sat next to you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "Sweetie, sucking your thumb isn’t healthy. We can work together to break this bad habit. How about we find a special toy or stuffed animal to cuddle with instead? Whenever you feel the urge to suck your thumb, you can hold onto your new friend."

You nodded, your eyes bright with enthusiasm. Together, you searched for the perfect companion—a fluffy teddy bear named Benny. You clutched Benny close, finding comfort in his soft embrace. Though the thumb-sucking lessened, it still lingered as a deeply ingrained habit.

Sometimes it happened without you even realizing it, and other times, well, you just couldn't help yourself. Whenever Wanda or Nat noticed you sucking your thumb, they gently reminded you to take it out and explained the reasons why it's important to stop. They spoke about how it could affect your teeth and shared stories of other children who successfully stopped thumb-sucking.

“Y/N, detka, come here,” Wanda cooed as she gently took your thumb from your mouth and cuddled you into her side, “Do you remember what Nat told you about sucking your thumb?”

You nodded, recalling your earlier interaction with Natasha, “Natty say, no good” you answered

Wanda confirmed your answer, “That’s right, what can you do instead of sucking your thumb?”

You thought long and hard trying to remember what Nat had suggested, “uhm- OH! BENNY!” You exclaimed as you scooted off of the couch and darted over to grab your cuddly stuffed bear and then return to Wanda. She couldn't help but smile at your excitement to substitute Benny for your bad habit.

Some days it wasn’t that easy though, you preferred sucking your thumb over any substitution that Nat and Wanda offered up. Despite Wanda and Nat's best efforts, there were times when you became particularly stubborn and refused to stop sucking on your thumb. They had tried other things like pacifiers and thumb guards, but eventually they always found you using your thumb instead.

One evening when Wanda and Nat sat down with you to have a calm conversation about the habit. They explained the reasons why it was important to stop and how it could affect her teeth and oral health as they had before. Their strategy was to help create awareness for you anytime you had fallen back on the habit. Nat had read in a parenting book that increasing the child's awareness of the habit can help them recognize when they do it unconsciously.

However, instead of listening attentively this time, you crossed your arms and stubbornly shook your head, "No, I no want stop," you declared defiantly with your thumb firmly pressed against the roof of your mouth.

Wanda exchanged a concerned glance with Nat, realizing that their usual techniques might not work this time. They knew they had to approach this situation differently, with a balance of firmness and understanding.

Wanda took a deep breath and knelt down to your level, gently taking both of your hands into her own. "Y/N, we understand that you enjoy sucking your thumb, but it's important for your teeth and overall health that we find a way to stop. We love you so much, and we want to help you grow up strong and healthy."

“NOO, MAMA!” you screeched as you ran away from both Wanda and Nat and headed up the stairs to your room, quickly scurrying under the covers to provide a barrier from eyesight when they inevitably would follow you into the room a few moments later.

The two women could tell that you were overtired and lashing out because of it. They debated whether the fight was worth it or if they should just let you sleep it off. In the end, they decided to give you time alone to cool off before they trailed upstairs behind you. Gently knocking at the door, they entered the room to find you passed out under the covers in the fetal position with your thumb in your mouth.

As adorable as they found you, It was time for them to come up with a new plan, instead of making you aware of the bad habit and hoping you would break it purely by recognizing it, or distraction. It was time to turn it into a game.

During breakfast the next morning, Wanda and Nat brought up your poor behavior the night before. It was important to them that you were aware of when your actions were inappropriate, and instead of scolding or grounding you, they simply spoke to you about it. It was a constructive conversation to help you learn that even though you feel tired, lashing out is not the proper way to handle things.

Of course, it’s expected at your age and they don’t fault you for it, but they know how smart and well-behaved you are typically. Wanda wanted to start nipping bad behavior in the bud as soon as it showed its face so that it didn’t end up spiraling out of control in the coming months.

"Y/N, we know change can be hard, and it's okay to feel unsure. But we believe in you, and we know you're capable of breaking this habit. Let's work together to find a solution that makes you feel comfortable." Nat said genuinely as the two of you chomped on pancakes.

Your expression softened as you looked into the caring eyes of Wanda and Nat. They had always been there for you, supporting you in every step of your journey. Slowly, you let out a sigh and nodded, signaling your willingness to explore alternatives. It’s not that you didn’t want to try for them, in fact, you have been, but bad habits are just so easy to fall back on.

Throughout breakfast, they explained a new system that they would implement. Wanda and Nat created a special "Thumb-Free" chart for you. Every day that you refrained from thumb-sucking, you would earn a star sticker. Once you collected a certain number of stars, you would receive a small reward or a special outing with Wanda and Nat. There would be different options of rewards that you could choose from and this made you excited for all the possibilities. Through patience and understanding with you, Wanda and Nat helped you realize that breaking the habit was not about taking something away but instead, about gaining control and embracing new experiences.

In the weeks that followed, there were still moments of resistance, but Wanda and Nat continued to provide unwavering support. They reminded you of your own strength and encouraged you to persevere. With their love and patience, you slowly began to let go of the thumb-sucking habit, replacing it with healthier alternatives and finding comfort in their embrace.

It was a journey that required time, understanding, and a deep bond between the three of you. Through your collective efforts, they overcame your stubbornness and nurtured your growth and independence, reminding you that they would always be there to guide you through life's challenges with love and support.

As Wanda was organizing some books in the living room, she stumbled upon a stack of parenting books on the coffee table. Curiosity piqued, she picked one up and flipped through its pages. The book was filled with insights, advice, and practical tips for co-parenting.

Some of the pages were marked with highlighter and notes were written about your behavior in the margins. She immediately recognized this as Natasha’s handwriting. As Wanda delved deeper into the book, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of admiration for Natasha. It wasn't just the fact that Natasha cared enough to educate herself on the intricacies of co-parenting, but also the realization that Natasha wanted to be the best guardian she could be for you.

A smile tugged at the corners of Wanda's lips as she thought about Natasha's dedication and the countless hours she must’ve spent studying those pages. She found it incredibly attractive to see someone so committed to their role as a co-parent, taking the time to understand and navigate the complexities of raising a child. Co-parent. Is that what they were? They hadn’t made it official but they sure were acting the roles.

In that moment, Wanda's heart swelled with affection for Natasha. She admired her friend's determination, compassion, and unwavering love for you. It made her see Natasha in a whole new light, awakening feelings that had been igniting more and more lately.

Unable to contain her excitement, Wanda hurriedly made her way to the kitchen, where she found Natasha preparing a snack for you. With a twinkle in her eyes, Wanda held the parenting book behind her back and teased, "Oh Nat, guess what I found?"

Natasha turned, curiosity evident in her eyes. "What is it, Wanda?"

Wanda grinned, her voice filled with affection. "I found these parenting books you've been reading. I had no idea you were so invested in co-parenting Y/N"

Natasha's cheeks flushed, a mix of surprise and sheepishness. "Oh, those... Yeah, I've been trying to gather as much knowledge as possible. I want to make sure we're doing everything we can for her.”

Wanda stepped closer, her gaze unwavering as she spoke slowly, "Natasha, your dedication to Y/N's well-being, your commitment to learning and growing as a co-parent—it's incredibly” attractive. She wanted to say it, but she swerved at the last second, “thoughtful” she blurted out and released eye contact as she internally scolded herself for almost going too far.

A moment of silence hung in the air as Natasha could tell that wasn’t the word she wanted to say. Figuring that the other word would be something along the lines of teasing, Natasha chose not to pry it out and instead took the compliment with a smile.

Taglist: @mymommawanda@livslifeonline@reggierizzoli@mythixmagic@lesbicentism@marvelogic@katethewriter @inluvwithfictionalwomen @spooky-reader1 @marvelogic @kissforvoid

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asteroidtroglodyte · 4 months

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My Fellow Americans. Too long have we been a nation in dentures. We find ourselves suffering from a great moral, and oral, decay. Together, we must bite the bullet, and cross over into the bridgework, and I believe that together, we can make America a sea of shining smiles from sea to shining sea.

Now, my Fellow Americans, there are those that say that my Mandatory Toothbrushing Initiative is too extreme. But I tell you now; it is not about the secret dental police who spy on you in your homes to ensure that you have brushed. It is not about the preventative dental maintenance detention facilities, no, I assure you. It is not about the dental reeducation camps, nor is it secretly about government labs splicing pigeons and raccoons to create a private army of “tooth fairies.”

No, My Fellow Americans, my Mandatory Toothbrushing Initiative is about strengthening America, in spirit, and incisor.

I am a friendly fascist; a tyrant you can trust, and you should put me in charge of your entire life, because I do know what is best for you.

Thank you for your attention

#troglodyte thoughts #free range sustainable shitpost #vermin supreme

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creatingsmilesdental · 2 months

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"Gum disease, also known as periodontal disease, is a common yet preventable oral health issue that affects millions of people worldwide. Characterized by inflammation of the gums and potential damage to the surrounding structures that support the teeth, gum disease can lead to serious complications if left untreated. However, by implementing a few simple yet effective strategies, you can significantly reduce your risk of developing gum disease and maintain optimal oral health."

#dentist #st. petersburg dentist #dentist st. petersburg #dental office st. petersburg #creating smiles dental #stpetersburgdentist

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creatingsmilesdentalclearwater · 4 months

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Maintaining Oral Health: Clearwater's Best Dental Hygiene Practices

Creating Smiles Dental is a reputable dental practice located in Clearwater, Florida, dedicated to enhancing your oral health and overall well-being. Maintaining good dental health is crucial to a happy and healthy life. The greatest dental hygiene procedures in Clearwater will be covered in this post to help you keep a radiant, self-assured smile.

Regular Dental Checkups: Routine dental examinations are essential for maintaining optimal oral health. In order to guarantee early identification of any possible problems, we at Creating Smiles Dental advise biannual checkups. Our skilled team's meticulous inspections and professional cleanings help stop little issues from growing into bigger ones.

Brushing Techniques: Using the right brushing techniques is essential to keeping your teeth healthy. We suggest that patients use fluoride toothpaste and a delicate seethed toothbrush to clean their teeth something like two times every day. To guarantee a complete clean, spend at least two minutes brushing, paying close attention to the gum line.

Flossing Matters: Although it's sometimes forgotten, flossing is just as vital as brushing. It aids in cleaning hard-to-reach places where your toothbrush can miss food particles and grime. At Creating Smiles Dental, our dental professionals stress the need of flossing every day to stave off cavities and gum disease.

Nutrition and Oral Health: Oral health benefits greatly from a balanced diet. Lessening your admission of sweet food varieties and beverages can assist with halting tooth rot. Strong teeth and gums are encouraged by diets high in calcium, such as dairy products and vitamin-rich fruits and vegetables. For a healthy smile, our Clearwater dentist office promotes a comprehensive approach to diet.

Stay Hydrated: It is not only good for your general health but also for your dental hygiene to drink enough water. Water aids in the removal of food particles and germs, reducing the likelihood of cavities and promoting fresh breath. Drink water instead of other liquids for the best possible dental health.

Quit Smoking and Limit Alcohol: Oral health suffers from both excessive alcohol use and tobacco use. Smoking raises the risk of gum disease, tooth decay, and oral cancer. Creating Smiles Dental actively recommends its patients to quit smoking and drink less alcohol in order to maintain good oral and overall health.

Mouthguards for Protection: Whether you grind your teeth at night or participate in contact sports, wearing a mouthguard helps shield your teeth from potential harm. Our dental professionals can create a mouthguard that suits you comfortably and provide the required protection without endangering your oral health.

Proper Dental Care Products: For good oral hygiene, selecting the appropriate dental care items is essential. The American Dental Association (ADA)-approved toothbrush, fluoride toothpaste, and antimicrobial mouthwash are all advised by our staff. Making the appropriate product choices improves your everyday oral hygiene regimen.

Educational Outreach: At Creating Smiles Dental, we think that education is the key to empowering our patients. Our staff helps you make educated decisions about your dental health by offering educational materials on good oral hygiene habits. Our goal is to be your partners in maintaining a healthy smile by providing you with individualized guidance and educational brochures.

Conclusion: A happier, healthier life is a dedication to maintaining dental health. In addition to offering complete dental care, Creating Smiles Dental in Clearwater, Florida also counsels patients on the best ways to maintain good oral hygiene. It is possible to get and maintain a bright, self-assured grin via putting routine dental exams first, adopting good brushing and flossing practices, choosing healthy foods, and giving up bad habits. Recall that you are the first step in having a healthy smile, and we are here to help you every step of the way. Make an appointment at Creating Smiles Dental or your trusted Clearwater dentist right now, and let us accompany you on your path to optimal dental health for the rest of your life.

#Creating Smiles Dental #dentist #dentist clearwater #dentist in clearwater

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princess-sof-time · 10 months

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Please may I have a Oshi no ko headcanon of Ai hoshino with a male S/O who was kinda still under anesthesia after a enamel tooth repair surgery and S/O didn't really recognise his wife (Ai hoshino) under a whack load of anesthetic and asked who the pretty woman was sitting by the bed..and Ai replied that she was his wife and S/O said something along the lines of that he couldn't believe how he has a beautiful angel as a wife and it was a dream come true..and all that.

S/O was absolutely mortified afterwards and apologised sincerely to his wife if he said something to offend her after the anesthesia wore off completely and he was himself again.

Ai Hoshino never died Au and she is married to an S/O who loves her for who she truly is and her S/O has a positive relationship with the twins. Ai and S/O are pretty much adults..

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

🄰🄸 🄷🄾🅂🄷🄸🄽🄾

• S/O ends up undergoing routine dental repair surgery and being placed under anesthesia. Upon awakening from the procedure, he finds himself in a groggy state, temporarily unaware of his surroundings.

• In his haze, S/O gazes at the figure of a woman sitting by his bedside, captivated by her beauty. He musters the strength to speak and, with a sense of awe, he addresses her as the "pretty woman." It's in this moment that Ai, his beloved wife, recognizes the effects of the anesthesia and understands that S/O doesn't immediately recognize her.

• Ai responds with grace and a warm smile, realizing the importance of providing reassurance and comfort to her beloved S/O. She gently reminds him that she is, in fact, his wife, the person he loves and cherishes deeply. S/O, still under the influence of the anesthesia, can hardly believe his luck. He expresses his disbelief at having such an exquisite angel as his wife, describing it as a dream come true.

• Ai's heart swells with love upon hearing S/O's words. She leans in closer, her voice tender and sincere, as she assures him that she feels the same way about him. Their connection deepens in that moment, fueled by a mutual appreciation for one another's beauty, both inside and out.

• However, as S/O fully recovers from the anesthesia, a sense of mortification washes over him. He becomes acutely aware of the possibility that he may have said something offensive or embarrassing while under the influence of the medication. In a genuine display of remorse, he sincerely apologizes to Ai, expressing his embarrassment and regret.

• But Ai, being the loving and understanding partner that she is, quickly dismisses her concerns. She holds his hand tenderly, looking into his eyes with warmth and reassurance. She tells him that her words brought him immense joy and that she was deeply touched by his sincere praise. Ai emphasizes that she knows he meant no harm and that she values him as much as he values her.

• Their bond, already strong, only grows stronger after this incident. S/O's vulnerability and willingness to acknowledge his mistake, combined with Ai's unconditional love and forgiveness, deepen their connection. They continue to support and cherish one another in their adult lives, navigating life's ups and downs as a united front.

• Together, Ai and S/O create a loving and harmonious family. Their positive relationship sets a beautiful example for their children, demonstrating the importance of love, understanding, and forgiveness. They foster a happy and nurturing home, where their twins flourish under the guidance of their caring and compassionate parents.

• Ai Hoshino brings her radiant spirit and unwavering love to her marriage to S/O. They face life's challenges with unwavering support for one another, celebrating each other's successes and providing solace in difficult times. Their relationship serves as a testament to the power of love, resilience and the extraordinary bond that can be forged between two souls.

Pinterest: Credits of used icons : jijii_ ame

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ──────

#oshi no ko x reader #ai hoshino x reader #anime x reader #fluff #headcanons

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coughloop · 1 year

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taking your child to the dentists office and everythings going great. Your daughter has been remembering to floss, the dental hygienist even said this would be a particularly short cleaning because her teeth are all already so immaculate. When the dentist comes in she does the usual inspection. No cavities, no unaligned snarlers, wisdom teeth not close to being even a conversation.

To celebrate your faughters beautiful teeth and another cavity free year the dentist offers to take a polaroid picture of your daughter smiling to add to a collage of all the "perfect patients" as the doc likes to call them. "what could be the harm?" you think, "everyone loves to look at smiling children, and maybe it'll keep my girl motivated to keep flossing every night". The dentist snaps your daughters picture, the black glossy rectangle prints out and the hygienist who is still in the room catches it and begins to shake it to develop. A perfect shot! didn't need to say cheese or anything! The hygenist brings the picture behind you, and for the first time you and your daughter turn around and notice the "perfect patients" board.

the Hygienist pins the image to the bottom, creating a new row. As she does so, you hear your daughter yelp, but you do not look. You hear the sound of flesh melding and tearing. you hear the sound of change.

A meek british man's voice whispers from the dentist's seat behind you that your daughter was in only moments ago. "daddy, can we go home now, i want to spongebob on the telly". You do not turn around

#not proofreading this

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 years

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Can't Help Falling In Love Chapter 1: Hemingway

Synopsis: As Y/N prepares for his wedding, he receives an unexpected surprise from his bride-to-be.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Y/N

Characters: Y/N, Tony Stark, Laura Barton

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of alcohol, fluffy fluff fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

“Shit,” Y/N said as he yet again failed to tie his bowtie. YouTube made it look so easy. Fold this, make a knot here, add a loop-de-loop, push this end through that and presto! The men in these videos, however, weren’t accounting for one thing: wedding day jitters. Shaky hands and a lingering sense of anxiety and pressure made even the simplest of tasks all the more difficult. He undid the floppy, lopsided bow and attempted to try again.

“You know, for someone who’s getting married in an hour, you look extremely unhappy.”

Y/N jumped. He was so focused on getting his bowtie perfect (which it wasn’t) that he hadn’t noticed Tony looming behind him in the mirror.

“Jesus!” Y/N exclaimed. “Don’t do that!”

“Not too late to back out if you want. Wait another hour and it’s going to get massively more expensive to say no. Either way you’re a dead man, but it’s better to die debt-free than owing god knows what in legal fees.” He was shockingly casual as he tied Y/N’s bowtie. Y/N resigned himself to the indignation of being unable to tie his own tie on this wedding day, allowing his arms to hang limply by his side as Tony Stark tied his bowtie for him.

“Thanks…I think?”

“Thank me now, thank me later, all I can say is: you’re welcome.” He straightened the bowtie and patted Y/N’s shoulders. “Bit nervous I see. Cold feet?”

Y/N sighed. “No, not cold feet. I mean yeah, I’m terrified, but I’m going to marry her.” He smoother the front of his vest. “Little late to back out now, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember, shoot me a nod and I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. create a diversion so you can slip out through a suit. Either that or, gee I don’t know, I’ll think of something. Drop my papers, throw the rings, object to the wedding myself.”

“Yeah, umm…I think we’ll be good there, Tony, but thanks for the offer.”

“Alrighty then, guess I’ll head out.” He dropped his voice to an almost whisper. “Told Laura I’d finish hanging the lights up in the barn before everyone got here. Don’t want to upset the taskmaster.” He motioned with his hand like he was cracking an imaginary whip. “Need anything before I go? Snack? Dental floss? Liquid courage?” He pulled a small silver flask from his inside jacket pocket.

“Nah, I’m good,” Y/N said as he shook his head. “Thanks, though.”

Tony took a swig from his flask. “Oh well, more for me,” he grinned. He leaned to the right and craned his neck to peer out the window. “I don’t see her out there…hopefully she’s not looking for me. But what the hell, no one’s gonna notice if there’s fairy lights or not, right?” He turned and headed for the bedroom door.

“Hey Tony?” Tony turned and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows cocked.

“Mmmm?”

“I, uhh, I just wanted to say, well, thanks. Thanks for doing this. It…it means a lot to me, umm, us. It means a lot to us. So thank you.”

Tony smiled. “You might want to wait until after my speech at the reception to thank me because there’s a good chance you’ll change your mind after that.”

“Oh, I’m sure Wanda will be thrilled,” Y/N retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Absolutely.” With that Tony left. Y/N chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Leave it to Tony to be his usual, quasi-annoying self on someone else’s wedding day. His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Must’ve forgotten some other quip he wanted to make, he thought. But it wasn’t Tony at the door. It was Laura.

“Hi Y/N! Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Tony?” she asked. She was already dressed for the wedding in a stunning green dress, but she vowed to work until the last possible moment to ensure that Y/N and Wanda had the most perfect wedding day ever.

“Yeah he was just here but he left. I’m not sure where he was going, but he kept talking about avoiding both you and some fairy lights.”

Laura sighed as she brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, that sounds about right…Alrighty, thanks anyways.” She began to shut the door but stopped abruptly. “Oh, geez, I almost forgot what I came here for. Wanda wanted me to give this to you.” She handed him a small white envelope. He grabbed the envelope and looked at it quizzically.

“What is it?” he wondered aloud.

“Something you’re going to want to hold on to for a long time,” she said as she tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really happy for you two, Y/N. Today’s going to go by so fast, so just remember to stop, take a breath, and just live in the moment. You two have your whole lives ahead of you. And if there’s one piece of unsolicited marriage advice Clint and I could give you, it’s to remember that you are each other’s best friend. The way you two love each other will change as you grow older, but if you remember that she is your best friend through it all you two will make it through anything that comes your way. And have fun, have so much fun together. You’re young, you’re in love, this is one of the best chapters of your life.” Laura smiled. “Sorry, look at me getting all sentimental,” she sniffled. “But go read it! We’ve still got an hour until the ceremony and I know you two want to do a first look beforehand, so someone will come get you in about half an hour, okay?” Y/N nodded. “Well okay, I’ll go find Tony, you go read that,” Laura gestured to the note in Y/N’s hand as she spoke. She left the room, carefully closing the door as she exited.

Y/N sat down at the foot of the bed. He examined the envelope carefully, looking at it with the wonder of a newborn baby. Envelopes were common items. He stuffed official Avengers reports into them on an almost daily basis. Yet this was different. It was from Wanda to him on their wedding day. That made it different. It was more personal, more intimate. It was meant for him and him alone. He smiled, thinking of how much love and care his soon-to-be wife poured into such a simple yet meaningful gesture. Writing wasn’t something that came easily to her. Feelings yes, but actually articulating those feelings on paper no. Words, poetry, prose…that was more of his thing. It’s not something that helped him with the Avengers, but Wanda found that side of him fascinating and romantic. Taking extra care to not tear the envelope, he opened it and removed the folded stationery paper from inside. Opening the note, he began to read:

Dear Y/N,

In a few short hours we’ll be married and headed off on our honeymoon as husband and wife. I cannot believe this day is finally here! It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to marry you. Even though we’ve been together forever we have the rest of our lives to go and I get to spend it with my best friend! I promise to be yours if you promise to be mine. I love you to the ends of the earth and back, my darling Hemingway, and I’ll never let go.

Love Always,

Your Wanda

PS. I found this idea on Pinterest and thought it would be so cute :)

That did it. That sent him over the edge. Every single emotion he was feeling about finally marrying Wanda Maximoff was hitting him all at once. He sobbed. He was grateful he was alone and he continued to sob. How was it possible to love another human being this much? She was everything to him and so much more. She knew that, of course, but he wanted her to know that right now. He frantically looked around the room. It was one of the guest rooms in Clint and Laura’s safe house in the middle of nowhere. He spied the small desk in the back corner of the room which was nestled in between the wardrobe and the window. Shuffling through the contents of each drawer he rummaged until he found an unused ‘Happy Birthday’ card, a matching envelope, and a green gel pen. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I think she’ll still appreciate the gesture, he thought. Y/N sat at the small desk as sunlight and the muffled sounds of last minute wedding preparations poured through the window. Uncapping the pen, he crossed out the word ‘birthday’ and wrote ‘wedding’ right above. He chuckled. He pictured Wanda reading the front of the card and giggling at her fiance's lack of preparation. Pen tapping against the desk and leg anxiously bouncing up and down, he began to write to his beloved.

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ghoulodont · 6 months

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Born Unwise

What’s a little impromptu dental exam between friends?

Relationship: Swiss/Dew Words: 1338 Tags: Ghoul Lore, Teeth, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Read below or on AO3

“I’m telling you, humans don’t have fangs.” Swiss leans back against his hands where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Dewdrop had been sitting next to him, but is now lying down with his legs dangling over the edge.

“Not true. They just don’t have these ones.” Dew taps his pointed lateral incisor.

“No, the other ones aren’t the same either. Look it up or something.”

“Fine.” Dew types human teeth into his phone. He scrolls through the search results and enlarges one clinical-looking photograph. He holds up his phone to Swiss.

“See? I told you,” Swiss gloats.

“What? Look at that.” Dew zooms in on the upper left canine and pushes his phone closer to Swiss’ face. “Is this not a fang?”

“No, no, it’s not sharp enough. It’s different.”

Dew holds his phone screen over his face so he can look at it while he presses the tip of his finger against the cusp of his own upper canine. It is sharp. If he pressed harder he could probably draw blood.

“For humans, none of them are sharp like that. All of their teeth are like our lower ones.”

“Really?” Dew moves his exploring finger to the opposing lower canine. He’s never put any real thought into it, but indeed, it’s much less sharp than the upper one. It comes to a point, but the point is rounded.

He looks closer at the image on his phone. He switches to another photo and zooms in on that one too. It’s hard to tell from just a picture, but what Swiss says is plausible.

“Here, look.” Swiss opens his mouth slightly and points to one lower canine.

Dew sits up and peers into Swiss’ mouth. He holds up his phone to compare. Yes, the lower canine looks like the one in the image. And yes, even visibly, the upper one is much sharper. The diagonal edges are almost beveled like a knife, and those edges meet at a stark angle at the cusp. It looks like a weapon, something intentionally created to cut. In comparison, the human canines on his phone look like stones worn smooth by a river.

Dew puts his finger on the front of Swiss’ fang and slides it down to press against the side of the sharp tip. Then he places the pad of his finger the tip of the opposing lower canine.

Swiss bites down on his finger.

“Hey.” Dew snatches his hand back.

Swiss grins. The teeth past his incisors are offset from each other to form a perfect zigzag, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

Dew pivots on one knee and puts his opposite leg over Swiss’ body so that he’s sitting on his thighs, facing him. “I wasn’t done.”

“Continue, then.” Swiss is still grinning.

Dew drops his phone on the bed. He presses his thumb against Swiss’ lower lip and his fingers below the point of his jaw. It doesn’t take much force to make his mouth drop open.

He returns the index finger of his other hand to the cusp of Swiss’ upper canine. He slides his finger to the adjacent first premolar. Its outer cusp, the one adjacent to his cheek, is just as sharp as the canine but not quite as long. The cusp closer to his tongue is shorter than the other one, and not sharp at all. His second premolar is similar, shorter than the first but only slightly. Behind that, his molars also have pointed cusps, but only in a human way, natural, like a mountain ridge.

Dew sweeps his finger back in the other direction, over his premolars to his canine, then to his lateral incisor. Unlike a human’s, it’s pointed. This is the most distinctive feature of a ghoul’s smile — the fang that humans don’t have. Despite that, it isn’t actually very sharp. Dew feels the canine again to compare.

Swiss’ central incisors are perfectly human, with a flat horizontal edge that feels smooth against Dew’s fingertip. Opposite them, his four identical lower incisors are also flat and smooth. His lower canine is pointed, but not sharp, and so are his lower premolars.

Dew runs his finger over Swiss’ upper teeth again. Flat incisors, pointed lateral incisor like a human canine, sharp canine like a dagger. Sharp premolars, but only on the side closer to his cheek. And then regular human molars.

He drops his hands to Swiss’ shoulders and leans back a little. Swiss closes his jaw, goes back to grinning.

Obviously this isn’t Dew’s first time seeing a ghoul’s teeth. It also isn’t the first time he’s seen Swiss’ teeth up this close. Nor is it the first time he’s touched Swiss’s teeth; he had done that quite intimately, actually. But he had never paid this kind of attention to them. He had never really inspected them like that. The multisensory fusion of sight and feeling is greater than the sum of its parts.

His own teeth, though, he had inspected those. He would never tell anyone about it, but it’s one of the handful of clear memories he has from being summoned. In the bathroom, alone, on unsteady legs, he remembers leaning in close to the mirror over the sink and examining himself, his face, his horns, his teeth, his few ghoulish traits.

Somehow, he understood much of the world around him from his first moment of awareness. He already knew what a mirror did, what to use a sink for, what horns and teeth were. But he saw himself — his face, his horns, his teeth — for the first time. It was like he had lived an entire life he had no memory of, and the only things left of it were objective and impersonal.

He was in that bathroom long enough that an attendant had to come by and knock on the door to check if he was still alive.

Regardless, he had been alive long enough now — eaten so many meals, brushed his teeth however many hundreds of times, all of those mundane things — that he knew what his own teeth were like. And what they were not like.

“How are they so… straight.”

Swiss shrugs, pushing Dew’s hands up with his shoulders. “Just grew that way, I guess.”

Dew’s teeth didn’t grow that way. They all ended up in the right place, more or less, but some of them are rotated, some of the adjacent ones overlap. One of his upper lateral incisors is tipped to the side, pointing more towards the middle of his chin than straight down.

It’s never caused him any issues. It’s just something else he’s never never paid much attention to.

“Aw, are you self conscious?” Swiss teases. He cups Dew’s jaw with both hands and pushes back his lips with his thumbs, forcing Dew’s face into an awkward imitation of his own expression.

Dew isn’t self conscious, honestly. Some of the other ghouls have teeth like his, and so do some humans. And some humans get their teeth moved around in their mouths to make them less like his. He’s not sure why, if it’s just for cosmetic reasons or for something else. But he sees no reason to fix what isn’t broken.

“You’re not self conscious, are you?” Swiss’ smile falters. He loosens his pull against Dew’s mouth.

“I’m not, it’s just interesting.” Some of the consonants in Dew’s answer are distorted around Swiss’ thumbs.

“I think everything about you is perfect.” Swiss runs one of his thumbs over Dew’s teeth, over one crooked fang.

“Stop, I said I’m not. Don’t be gross.” Dew can’t tell if Swiss is still teasing, pushing his buttons, intentionally saying things that he knows will make Dew squirm.

But Swiss is looking at him like he really means it. His eyes are soft and his smile is gentle now, having relaxed from his characteristic impish grin.

Dew presses his body weight against Swiss’s shoulders until he leans back, the two of them tipping over together and tumbling onto the bed.

#swissdew #ghost band fanfic #fic i wrote #THIS IS OLD.... sorry

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