#metal crown tooth

[christinejames34]

Puche Dental Labs' Superior Metal Crown Tooth Solutions

Puche Dental Labs is renowned as one of the best dental labs in Los Angeles. Our full metal crowns blend durability and aesthetics seamlessly, ensuring lasting comfort and functionality. Discover perfection at Puche Dental Labs

[quicksillver]

[image: The Pros and Cons of Teeth

an illustration of teeth

PRO: Grudgingly admit they are useful for eating CON: Will betray you in the most costly fashion imaginable]

[dental65]

Metal Free Zirconium treatment price in Kukatpally & KPHB

[smritirajdentistry]

Over the past decade, dental science has experienced significant advancements, thanks to evolving technology. With various dental crowns available, choosing the right one can be challenging. In this guide, we’ll explore the different types of dental crowns, highlighting their benefits and drawbacks to help you make an informed decision.

[orisdentalcenter]

Types of dental crowns for teeth and their benefits

Dental crowns are a common dental procedure that restores and protects damaged teeth. There are several options accessible, each with its own set of perks. Understanding the many forms of dental crowns for teeth will help you make an informed decision about your oral health. 

What are dental crowns?

Dental crowns are caps that replace broken or damaged teeth and restore their shape, strength, and appearance. They totally cover the visible portion of the tooth above the gumline.

They are used to protect fragile teeth, mend fractures, hold large fillings, fix dental bridges, cover implants, and improve the appearance of discolored or malformed teeth. 

Types of Dental Crowns:

1) Metal Crowns: 

Metal crowns are dental restorations made from a variety of metal alloys, including gold, palladium, nickel, and chrome. These crowns are well-known for their exceptional longevity and toughness, making them suitable for replacing severely damaged or decaying teeth, especially those located in the back of the mouth where chewing pressures are high.

2) Porcelain-Fused-to-Metal (PFM) Crowns

Porcelain-fused-to-metal (PFM) crowns are dental restorations that blend metal strength with a porcelain appearance. They consist of a metal base or substructure that has been covered or fused with layers of tooth-colored porcelain. PFM crowns are one of the most popular crown types because they mix strength and beauty.

3) All-Resin Crowns

All-resin crowns are dental restorations made completely of composite resin. They are commonly used as a short-term treatment for patients looking for a cheap option. These crowns are more prone to wear and fractures than metal or porcelain crowns, but they can be easily designed and coated to resemble genuine teeth.

4) All-Ceramic or All-Porcelain Crowns

All-ceramic or all-porcelain crowns are dental crowns made completely of ceramic or porcelain. They are popular candidates for front tooth restorations due to their natural appearance and ability to blend in with the color of the surrounding teeth. People who are allergic to or sensitive to metal can benefit from these metal-free crowns.

5) Pressed Ceramic Crowns

Pressed ceramic crowns are produced from a solid ceramic block that has been pressed and shaped to fit the tooth. These crowns are not only aesthetically pleasing, but also shock-resistant and long-lasting. Pressing them also provided for a precise fit and a natural appearance, so both professionals and patients picked them for anterior and posterior teeth. Pressed ceramic crowns are biocompatible and resistant to abrasion and discoloration.

Benefits of dental crowns

Restoring Tooth Structure and Functionality

Aesthetic enhancement

Longevity and durability

Versatility in applications

Pain Relief and Comfort.

Preservation of Oral Health

Customization and Personalization

Conclusion

To summarize, dental crowns for teeth are classified into numerous types, each with its unique set of attributes for tooth repair. There are various types of dental crowns available to fulfill your needs, whether you need to strengthen a weakened tooth, improve its appearance, or restore its function. Before having dental crowns, discuss this with your dentist. 

 Dental crowns are essential tools in modern dentistry, giving optimal functionality and aesthetics for a healthier, happier smile.

For more information read this full blog here: https://www.orisdentalcenter.ae/blog/dental-crowns-for-teeth

[drgarg-dental-clinic-delhi]

Cheap Metal Ceramic Crown

To get a cheap metal ceramic crown fixed by the best specialists in Delhi, visit Dr. Garg’s Multispeciality Dental Center. The prominent dental hospital with decades of existence has world-class facilities for fixing metal ceramic crowns strengthened with different alloy combinations.

[smiledentalclinicindore]

Other Dental Services Offered | Smile Dental Clinic - Dr Ashish Jain

We look forward to meeting you in person and address your questions and concerns. Our team of experts are always here to help you! Please fill out the following form to request an appointment or contact us directly on the provided details.

[shenu249]

Dental Clinic for Ceramic Metal Teeth Fixing

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[little-red-fool]

Lore dump time because I can’t help myself. It’s less of a codename and more of a sobriquet but Isaac originally started to get called “jackal” when he was still part of the Turkish military, it was mostly used derogatively because he was untrustworthy and selfish, and his commanders saw him as a coward despite being a skilled soldier. The “glass” part of his name was acquired after the military when he worked in a different mercenary organisation; on his first mission he was sent to raid an enemy base but as he was escaping some of the bombs him and his team had placed got set off too early and he got caught near the blast outside where the windows shattered and sent the glass flying, causing a lot of the shards to slice into his body, and it’s where most of his scars came from. After some time in the mercenary organisation he became a lot more callous and honed his skills more, earning a bit of a reputation in the area so the “jackal” part of his name started to become more associated with death—like in Egyptian mythology—as well as his speed and precision with weapons rather than as a demeaning insult.

Glass Jackal 🐾

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[cherryredstars]

was watching hamilton bcz I got a wisdom tooth removed and I was thinking... what about a miguel x reader that has the same narrative "that would be enough" portrays 😞👉🏻👈🏻

- 🦦

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, SFW

A/N: I am alive! I hope you’re doing okay 🦦 !

Unedited

Even through the closed door you can hear his soft curses and the clatter of tools.

It’s late into the night, and you went asleep in a vacant house. Even through your grogginess you smile, silently getting out of bed and to the one place that so much noise could be coming from. In the hallway, the light from the slightly ajar door created a yellow line up the wall, and it expands into a wide rectangle when you push the door open.

The man you know and love sits around his many toys, metal tools creating a circle around him as he works. LYLA flickers over his shoulders, peering down at his work and criticizing every movement of his large hands. His shoulders are hunched in the most awkward of positions, and you can feel the aches blooming from his spine on your own back.

Your feet dodge the small obstacle course to get to him, kneeling behind him before you wrap your arms around the large brute. He doesn’t directly acknowledge your presence, but he leans into your touch.

“Miguel,” you whisper, voice floating in the space like a soft harmony. “Aren’t you tired?”

Miguel grunts, turning to look over his shoulder at you. The concentrated furrow between his brows softens just slightly, melting into the familiar man that loves to care for you.

“I have to get this fixed.” He replies, his attempt at a whisper more gruff and sandpaper like.

“That’s not what I asked.” You hum, gently beginning to massage at the large knots braided across his shoulders.

He sighs gratefully, straightening and rolling his muscles that release hissing pops. He hisses at the ones that ripple under his skin, the pops thundering under the layers of corded muscle and skin. You smile to yourself, soothing the longer tingles with soft kisses that cause the large man to sigh.

“I have a surprise for you in the morning.” You say suddenly, a gentle coax to get him to leave his workshop. “Sleeping will make it come faster.”

“So will my work.” Miguel half-heartedly argues, already beginning to gather the loose screwdrivers and wrenches from his floor.

You smile drops slightly, face deadpan as you stare at him. He chuckles when he peaks at your expression, lifting his hand to grab your face before you slap it away. You’re more aware of the streaks of tool grease clinging to his fingers than he is, and he settles for a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be in bed soon, cariño.” He whispers into the flat skin, lips tickling.

“I’m not leaving until you do. You’ll just find something else to work on.” You knowingly chide, watching as he puts away the mess he’s made in the time he’s been home. “You work too much, it’s nonstop.”

He smiles, the satisfying snap of his tool kit masking the popping of his knees as he stands. “I have to if I don’t want the world to turn upside down.”

You shake your head at him, “What you do is already enough. Come to bed early for once.”

He sighs softly, holding out his elbow to help you get up. You take it gracefully, checking yourself for dust and grease before guiding him out of the room. You make sure to open the doors for him, refusing to spend the next morning wiping away grease from doorknobs.

Once he’s washed up and in bed, he pulls you close. Instead of sawdust and oily metal, he’s met with the calming, homey smell that makes his brain more aware of the callings of sleep creeping at the corners of his mind.

“What’s the surprise?” He whispers into the sacred space between the two of you, large fingers pushing away the hair obscuring your face.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” You hum, closing your eyes with a soft smile. “Wait for morning, we aren’t running out of time.”

Miguel thins his lips, accepting defeat. He crowns your victory with another soft kiss to your warm flesh, body bending to wrap around you.

He can wait for morning.

[druidwolf21]

Interrogation

I said I'd do it

I'm doing it

Smut below

CW:rough handling

Wolf priest/f!reader

I guess he's an OC now????

@jaghatai-khock @beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @artemisareia

Smoke, hot and tinged with iron filled your lungs, clouded your nose and stung your eyes. Flashes of movement just out of your vision drew your attention before a firm hand pushed your head back down. Your feet dragged across cold cobbles as you shuffled along the cold brick corridor until you were brought before a large wrought iron door. You were heaved gracelessly through the door, palms scraping the rough floor as you fell forward and hurried to rise back to your feet scowling around the dank room.

The walls were grey, or just worn, you couldn't tell in the faint flickering light of the lit bracket to your side, each gentle breeze causing shadows to dance along the crevices of the stone interior. A thick oak desk sat bolted to the corner next to a metal bedframe, a flimsy decaying mattress barely covering the rusted springs. Your eyes finally trained on your jailer as he entered the room.

He closed the door with a loud clang and slowly turned to face you. You were met with a cold red stare of a fenrisian wolf skull, sharp toothed and stark white in the dark. The iron lower jaw welded shut in a jagged line of fangs and steel. Runes cast in ethereal blue coiled around the eye socket and crest of the bone. You recoiled as the long muzzle cocked to the side, a low metallic growl echoing through the bone. The hulking mass of cybernetics and metal looming over you in the gloom.

Ashen Ceremite groaned as his armoured hands raised to his head, releasing his helm with a hiss of decompression. His hair, trimmed short at the side, was twisted into a long dirty blonde braid down the crown of his head accentuating a handsome young face, marred only by a long scar across the bridge of his nose to the corner of his slightly down turned lips. His cropped beard hugged a tight jawline and eyes of sapphire blue stared down at you, wide and bright as they reflected the poor light of the torches.

You swallowed dryly as he stepped forwards, a scowl gracing his chiseled features as looked down at you.

"you will answer all questions immediately, you will not speak unless directed to, do you understand" he barked, his voice thick with a fenrisian growl.

You nodded, eyes wide as he prowled towards you and grabbed your chin, wretching your gaze to meet his own.

"you are aware why you are here, thrall?" He shook your jaw roughly when you didn't respond right away. "Answer"

"yes, my lord, you believe there may be a traitor amongst the serfs"

"correct" he growled, releasing your chin, your eyes still trained on his carved features as he spoke. "A data slate has been stolen and when I find who took it.." His teeth bared in a snarl, his threat hung in the air.

"now tell me where you were evening last"

"my lord, I was in the armoury, I was cleaning lord ragnars armour"

His blonde brows twitched in recognition at the name and he stooped low, almost eye to eye.

" The black wolf?" He took your head in his hand again, this time gently, turning your head too and fro as if inspecting you. "And what did you do to earn such an honor"

You quivered in his grasp, eyes tearing up slightly as his fingers began to tighten.

"I don't know, my lord, I was feeding the wolves one day and he found me, told me I was assigned to him now"

His fingers were now bruising tight around your mouth as he continued to eye you up, you felt heat rising in your cheeks, feeling like a mouse caught by a cat.

You staggered slightly at the sudden release as the astartes rose back to his full impressive height and stepped back, his eyes never leaving you as he nodded to himself, his hand resting on his own chin, as if in thought.

"my lord please I would nev.."

Your breath left your body as a clawed gauntlet found your throat, lifting you and slamming you against the desk your backside sliding onto the cold metal.

"Be silent" he hissed, his face inches from your as he held you. His fingers squeezed your throat to emphasize his demand

You moaned into his touch.

The room fell silent.

Embarrassment flushed your system, turning your pink cheeks scarlet as you pawed at his forearm. His glacial eyes had turned dark as he looked down at you, writhing under his grip, lips parted in a slight pant as you desperately tried to press your legs together, only to be stopped by his own thigh pressed between them when he grabbed you.

"my lord"

Your breath hitched as he leant in close, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers as he inhaled your scent, his other hand remaining firm on your throat as he nosed into your neck. His index and ring finger trailed from your hair, tentatively tracing a line down your side before his palm came to rest at your hip.

He pulled back from your nape, gazing down into your teary eyes, his pupils dilated to darken his returning stare.

"perhaps I should see why blackmane is so interested in you" he muttered, his hand dropping from your neck to caress your thigh. Your heart pounded in your chest as his face grew closer and you closed your eyes and sighed into him as his lips met yours, far gentler than you expected. You reached tentatively and tangled your fingers into his braid and clipped hair, feeling the beads and silver rings he had tangled into his yellow mane as you played with the texture. His tongue ran across your lower lip and you parted to his touch, savoring the flavour of wood fire and mulled spice on the heat of his tongue as he tasted you.

He pulled away from your lips and you huffed, leaning towards him chasing his taste of smoke and sweet honey mead.

"Ulryk" he murmured, fingers teasing the edge of your dress. "My name is Ulryk"

His fingers gripped the material and suddenly hoisted it over your head, leaving you naked to the chill of the cell. Your nipples stiff and pebbled against the sudden cold, you gasped as a fanged mouth found them, his hot tongue running across your sensitive nubs and his canine grazing you skin

A low moan was pulled from you as his groping hands gripped high up your thigh and he paused, leaning away from you with an inquisitive look in his eye. He trailed his sight down your bare body until he noticed the faint wet shine between your thighs.

Firmly gripping your legs, he pulled them apart and gazed at your slick. Ignoring your weak attempt to slide your legs back together to hide yourself, he ran a ceremite digit across your slit, cocking his head as you hummed at his touch. Dropping to his knees, he watched your wetness coat the metal as he continued to toy with you, a feral grin creasing his features as you shuddered when he found your clit.

"perhaps you are a traitor" he mused, running is index finger over your entrance "A slaaneshi whore sent to ruin us"

"n no I swear my lord I... aaahhh"

You cried out as he slid a single finger inside you, the size of the digit and the sudden chill ripped a yelp from you as you struggled to adjust.

"say my name" he growled, sliding his finger deeper inside you.

"Ulryk" you cried as he thrust in and out of you, embarrassment burying itself under the heated bliss you were feeling as he fucked his finger inside you, your hands clawing at his face as he leant in, tonguing at your clit.

He growled into your crotch as he tasted you, marveling at how his silvered finger disappeared inside your pink flesh. He felt you plush of your thighs pressing against his head as you squirmed, the coarse brush of his beard leaving red marks across your delicate skin as he devoured you. He slipped his finger from your wet, ignoring your weak protests as he replaced it with his tongue, twisting and swirling it around your cunt to savour your taste. His own arousal pressing painfully into his suit as he rutted angrily against nothing.

You lay back across the table, helpless as your body moved on its own, grinding into Ulryks face until giant hands pinned you still. You head fell to the side and you found yourself face to face with the helm he had worn in, bone shining in the now faltered embers.

The helm he had worn as he dragged you here to mask his face.

The face now buried between your thighs.

You gasped as you felt the knot in your gut beginning to unravel. Your back arched and your fingers pulled at the knots of Ulryks head as you came, crying out his name as your body twitched and spasmed under his ministration.

Ulryk moaned into your cunt, feeling your muscles contracting around his tongue as he lapped at you until you stilled. Listening to your panting breaths and admiring the sheen that covered your body, he rose back to his feet, swiping his gauntlet across his face as he reached over and grasped his helmet.

You lay still, gasping for air for a moment before propping yourself up on your elbows, body still flushed with arousal as you gazed up at the warrior before you as he reconnected his headgear with a buzz and vacuum of air.

The eyes flashed with a red light as his heads up display reconnected and his sight turned to you.

"I may have more questions for you" came the snarling mechanised voice. "I will find you soon to continue this ..discussion"

"at your pleasure, my lord Ulryk"

[dental65]

Metal free Zirconium crown in Kondapur, Hyderabad

[forgottenarthur]

Storm at the Gates | Arthur & Aria

"They're out there!" Arthur stabbed a finger in the direction. "They're at our gates! This requires a resolution and I can give it! Please! Father! Now is the time! Let me--"

"NO!" boomed the emperor. Roderick Varmont's gaze was steel, tooth to tooth in full snarl. "You will do nothing of the sort. This is not a matter requiring imperial intervention."

Breath hissed between his clenched teeth. "Once before, Father, I stood in this position while a riot overtook the people in my charge. I cannot stand by--"

"MY charge!" declared Roderick, rising from his throne. "These people are no concern of yours, boy! And there is no trouble here! You will report to safety and you will do nothing. That is an order!"

Arthur's shoulders hunched. He couldn't slow the pounding in his chest. He tore his gaze away, towards the sandstone floor. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," he bit out, at last, tracing a cursory bow and stalking out of the room.

All around him, shrieks echoed through the corridors. This was wrong, he thought. All wrong. All his life, Arthur had trained, sword in hand, heavy armor banding his body like a steel glove. He was meant to be a warlord. He was meant to fight, not to cower behind stone. The gates boomed. They were pushing against them.

Even at Kil-Kennar he'd not hidden. At Kil-Kennar, he'd led the charge, when he might have quelled them, instead. The great gates shook. Arthur balled his fists. He was naked without his sword. Without his armor. And Kil-Kennar was all around him. He smelled the metallic tang of blood. The battered gates boomed in his chest. Screams echoed in his earts. It was all come again. Aine's bright red blood splashed upon Daybreak's gleaming blade and too-hot upon his own face. Weeping, screaming. Even then he might have spared lives. Even then...

Boom, boom! The gates clanked and clattered and Arthur had not even a sword.

'Hold fast!' some past version of him had barked to his men. The people howled outside. They wanted blood, red as the banners he'd used to claim Kil-Kennar. His men were praying. Pleading. There were far too few.

'We fight for our emperor!' Arthur had shouted. 'We fight for our lives! And we fight for our god! Hold fast and take heart, for there are no greater warriors in all the world! Today, all who raise their swords with me are sons of our divine emperor, my own brothers in bloodshed! Emmissaries of the true god, your deeds shall never be forgot!' He had them, now. He could feel it. When he had finished speaking, Arthur unsheathed Daybreak, turning towards the shivering gates. 'Those men are calling for blood. Let's give it to them!'

His words has swayed them. He knew it well. The cowering men had taken heart, rising, a hundred swords unsheathing with his own. But the consequences had been terrible. They were all of them -- soldier and rioter, alike -- his people. His responsibility. Every drop of blood had been his own, every broken bone, and every life forever altered. If he had only spoken out to the crowd...

He still might. They were at the gates, again, crying out for justice. He had taken justice from them before. But this time...this time it could all put to rights. Aine's life could not be restored, but the Stafford name could! How could it be worth all this bloodshed? Arthur turned back towards the room he'd just left, about to march back into his father's presence, but he recalled, then, his emperor's final words. If he spoke, now, it would not be with the voice of the god. It would be his own mortal hubris. It would be a sacreligious betrayal of his own true emperor, the God's own Champion. He could not.

Still and half shivering, Arthur turned his back upon the shuddering gate. He felt sick, nausea rising towards the crown of his heart with each heartbeat. He darted for the stairs. There was nothing he could do out there but, he reminded himself, there was something he might still do within these high walls. He knew where the women and children would be sheltered. he could take charge of the guard, he could see to it that they were all kept safe within the walls. He breathed a little easier at the thought, yet still the booms shrieked in his ears. Up and up and up he wound, mind turning over to his mother, his sister...and to Aria. The Queen and the Princess would be well protected, he had no doubt, his father's men would die defending them, if needs must, but Aria? Where was she? Who would look to her safety beyond keeping charge over some kind of prize?

Sucking in a deep breath, Arthur ran up and up and up, taking two stairs at a time. He had to find her. The first two places he looked, she was not, but at last he came to a small room, high above and replete with windows. Fear was a bird hovering just at his heart, weightier and weightier with every room he checked. God, he prayed. God, save her. He couldn't let her be hurt no matter what, but even worse to think of her injured with the way they'd left things after the Ice Ball! Yet, as he came into the room, his prayers were answered. There stood Eilionora and Aria. His heart was in his mouth to see her so close to danger.

"What are you thinking?!" barked Arthur at the guards, storming into the room. "Get them away from the windows! These rabble-rousers have projectiles! It's not safe!"

Eyes widening, the guards jumped to attention, moving in towards the women, but as soon as they moved to draw them from the windows, Eilionora resisted. Arthur ignored them all, stepping up to Aria, himself, and pulling her away, towards a dark corner of the room while the soldiers dealt with her struggling sister.

"What were you thinking?!" demanded Arthur, hands fluttering anxious across her waist, her arms, her shoulders, her head with its crown of ebony hair, searching for any wounds. She was so slight, her eyes wide, and his heart was a hammer, hands frantic in their search. What would he do if something had happened?

But he couln't think of that, couldn't think at all, as the weight of her eyes fell upon his. His questing hands slowed. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. She looked at him. He couldn't breathe. Her breath was warm. One hand stopped at her waist, pulling her close. The other touched her face. The heat of her satin skin. His thumb gently traced the sweep of her cheek. He tucked a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "Are you all right?"

[ninibeingdelulu]

mello x female reader fanfic please

The only one who understand ✧

Plot: You have to care of his injured hands, since you’re the only one he don’t seems to loathe.

A/N: tyy for requesting,I made it quite long (I love Mello🙈).

The fortified sanctuary's hectic ambiance assaulted your senses the second you slipped back through the concealed entrance.

A cacophony of enraged shouts and visceral clatters erupted from every direction amidst the disorienting smokescreen of frenzied bodies scattering haphazardly underfoot like panicked rodents.

Grunting curses laced the stale air already thick with undertones of sweat, gunpowder and lingering cigarette haze.

Each booming impact and deafening crash colliding throughout the labyrinthine corridors reverberated exponentially more jarring than the last ricocheting against your rattled equilibrium.

It didn't require much investigative prowess to deduce Mello had predictably detonated into another hellish tempest once again thrashing a path of destruction throughout their illicit headquarters.

The volatile blond tempering every waking breath with constant reminders of his sworn vengeance against Near while pursuing that insatiable obsession to crown himself the true successor surpassing L's sacred legacy...

Sure enough, the first henchman stumbling within reach instantly recognized you gripped your sleeve yanking you directly into the ensuing chaos sweeping through their stronghold.

Their coarse raspy shouts strained against the cacophony struggled conveying intel about Mello raging ballistic yet again pummeling anything within reach while berating the whole incompetent crew over their latest "intolerable failure" chasing down potential Kira leads that could help thwart Near.

Until eventually the tantrum crescendoed into the unhinged maniac turning those pistol-whipping fists against his own physicality thrashing against every available surface amidst a frenzy of indiscriminate impacts until that unmistakable crimson liquid began splattering across his immediate radius.

"Just go talk some damn sense into that lunatic before he decimates the whole goddamn place!"

The grunt spat venom-laced demands punctuated by another tooth-rattling clang in the distance.

"You're the only one crazy enough he'll actually listen to instead of putting a fucking bullet between your eyes..."

True enough.

Throughout the countless weeks since becoming embroiled within Mello's ultra-clandestine syndicate operation, you'd cultivated an inexplicable rapport with the unstable wildcard harboring tempestuous complexities rivaling the most virulent hurricane season.

While the rest of his enlisted underlings cowered under the unrelenting brunt of those psychopathic tirades and physical outbursts on an almost daily cycle, somehow Mello left you largely untouched whenever his metal instabilities detonated.

Almost like he intuitively sensed any attempts to direct that scorching tempest your way would be met with an immovable force absorbing the impact rather than recoiling in fear.

Either out of calculating pragmatism assessing the futility after your first few indifferent brushes with those demonic bellows...or potentially recognizing shards of that same jagged internal shrapnel lodged within your own calloused essence resonating against those manic frequencies - you'd never really invested much thought deciphering the unspoken détente arising between you both.

Most days it simply existed lingering in the background behind those evasive glares and minimal exchanges required between two strangers bound by shared circumstance pursuing their own shadowy agendas.

Nothing more, nothing less - just the unspoken rules observed out of mutual indifference rather than genuine kinship.

Of course, that dynamic abruptly transformed whenever Mello erupted yet again unleashing those ungodly furies with even more ballistic intensity than usual.

Where his go-to lieutenants knew better than courting that explosive volatility's blast radius themselves, instead redirecting you towards diffusing those pressurized tensions threatening to rupture the entire syndicate apart through sheer centrifugal forces alone.

Your boots thumped across the reinforced steel grating resonating against every immobilized soul cowering under whatever futile shelter from Mello's path of destruction by the time you reached that familiar threshold outside his personal quarters.

Cautiously extending your knuckles against the cold slab you initiated the requisite succession of coded rapping signalings before easing the barrier open inch-by-inch.

"Mello, it's me..."

You murmured evenly keeping your tone deliberately hushed despite straining against the eardrum-pounding roars shuddering through every supportive crossbeam.

The shadowy silhouette towering past six feet instantly whipped around piercing straight through you from across that lightless chamber.

More sounds erupted reverberating against your ribs like shockwaves detonating directly behind that shrouded outline undulating with each strangled inhalation raging against whatever internal vortex still consumed every iota of Mello's essence.

Until a single gnarled fist suddenly slammed down splintering the heavy oaken desk's reinforced surface signaling that same rapt focal point now gravitating your direction with unmistakable intensity.

Even before any true details crystallized Mello's omnipresent perfume of melding tobacco resin and dark chocolate immediately smothered your sinuses simultaneously triggering a euphoric blisswave correlated with inhaling the mere ambrosial traces surrounding that masculine presence alone.

Physical sensations subconsciously registering beyond just his visually imposing specimen beneath those apocalyptic leathers concealing taut musculature undulating with each sinuous movement.

Despite the abyssal darkness veiling his striking features under those tousled blonde hair, the second those emerald daggers flashed into sharp focus drilling straight into your psyche's core something instinctual stirred to visceral awakening beyond just the typical detached placidness required during these outbursts' aftermaths.

Something primal and ancient roiled against those scorching radiations searing across your exposed meridians shattering every remaining pretense keeping those protective barriers upright.

At least until the full reality slammed home precisely what caused Mello to detonate into his latest raging furor this time unleashed against his own physicality.

"Your hands, Mello...oh fuck, what did you do?"

You muttered weakly in dismay tracking the thick crimson rivulets still oozing a fresh spiderweb of intricate tributaries across the backs of his knuckles speckled with mottled contusions already purpling the surrounding tissue.

The subterranean baritone emitting from his larynx rumbled seismic-grade frequencies rattling directly through your core nearly causing you to crumble under the inexorable gravitas.

"I've done nothing to deserve the time wasted worrying over anything so insignificant."

His lethally contemptuous rasp corroded any remaining self-composure away into atomic vapor particles along with the last vestiges restraining your own deep-rooted instincts.

Pupils blown wide you immediately closed the proximity chasm separating you both without conscious navigation permitting your impulses to seize the controls untethered from rational faculties.

"Insignificant to you maybe...but not to me. I'm not just going to stand back and watch you self-destruct whenever another inner demon you can't contain possesses you into violence."

You snapped with startling vehemence, already retrieving the medkit lashed around your shin before unzipping the storage pouches scouring for the necessary disinfectant swabs and gauzes.

Remaining hyperfocused through the flickering peripherals tracking his imperious silhouette rigid like a statuesque pillar appraising your sudden shift into unfamiliar dominance with an unspoken curiosity even amidst this latest eruption's chaotic maelstrom still encircling you both within its shadowy epicenter.

Despite the constant looming threat of triggering another powder keg detonation you refused to shrink under that oppressive umbra's scrutiny practically seething the contemptuous disregard for anything resembling self-preservation.

Instead doubling down upon stabilizing Mello's talons into your grasp before methodically dabbing their lacerations with the sterilizing solution triggering that sharp intake of breath fracturing the stiff facade momentarily.

"Why the fuck do you even care at all?"

He growled through gritted dentals straining under the sting's potent stinging allowing you to complete the field dressings against his other hand now.

"None of you mewling curs grasps the full stakes or reasons driving this crusade in the first place!"

You instantly halted meeting his pyroclastic glare directly without flinching away from the radioactive fury threatening to incinerate you at any second like damned souls tempting Hellfire's roiling oblivion up close.

A series of rapid blinks sluggishly tamped down the rising embers threatening to reignite your own internal inferno awakening from slumber at last after Mello's latest incendiary provocation...

"You're right - I don't understand whatever personal retribution possesses you into pushing everything toward these explosive breaking. But it’s maybe because I just don’t want to know.”

The shrouded lair's stifling ambience thickened into a dense miasma permeating every exposed surface while you instinctively held Mello's seething glare locked within your own.

Two disparate yet intrinsically carved souls simultaneously drinking deep from the other's darkest wellsprings momentarily exposed amidst this latest eruption.

Tension crackled against every ion reverberating between you both amplifying exponentially with each passing nanosecond.

Until eventually your defiant breaths steadied enough to puncture the loaded silence catalyzing Mello to finally break first.

"You really don't fear pushing any of my buttons at all, do you?"

He sneered in that distinctive raspy baritone simultaneously fascinating and petrifying in its lethality.

"Even knowing full well the kinds of primal savagery I'm capable of unleashing without hesitation."

His defined jaw clenched fractionally tighter enhancing each subsequent word's razor-edged enunciation slicing through the densely charged atmosphere.

"Yet here you remain unflinching while the rest scurry like cockroaches instead of honoring the reasons behind what fuels my relentless pursuit for justice against a world crumbling under its own corruption and depravity."

You imperceptibly gulped forcing down the electrified pulses igniting across your dermis from the scorching intensities radiating off Mello's magnificent towering specimen in such perilously close proximity now.

Still you refused ceding even an iota of faltering resolution keeping your vocals modulated towards an evenness defying the inferno singeing away the last vestiges of self-restraint.

"I don't understand whatever haunts the darkest recesses of your psyche propelling these obsessions to attain vindication at all costs."

You stated softly while unconsciously caressing the fresh dressings swaddling his pulverized hands stained with the evidence.

His piercing emerald orbs ignited brighter than any starburst you'd ever witnessed coring straight through into your essence's deepest marrow while both bodies slanted imperceptibly closer again.

Magnetically drawn into reigniting these raging pulsations coursing between your polarized charged fields once more.

"However I do comprehend the pain lying behind those cathartic outbursts all too intimately after enduring my own similar methods failing to purge those internal demons from my core."

You inhaled sharply maintaining eye contact while Mello's incendiary glower bored deeper dissecting each syllable.

"Recklessly lashing out against whatever targets are convenient for unleashing the full force of those turbulent tempests doesn't eliminate the hurt fueling them. It only propels perpetuating darker cycles consuming everything and everyone still possessed by those untamed torments."

The faintest flicker danced across his irises momentarily fracturing the obsidian mask's density with something unreadable yet distinctly...human?

Resonating against your own vulnerabilities before Mello regained that facade siphoning the potency back under ironclad subjugation immediately.

His nostrils flared fractionally while slowly rearing up until the imposing frame radiated down at you like an indomitable fortress's ramparts eclipsing everything else into insignificance by comparison.

That penetrating smolder remained affixed scorching away layer-by-layer until both essences bled together again forged solely through the primal fire's merciless crucible alone...

"You really don't fear me at all, do you....?"

The raspy whisper materialized directly against your ear's sensitized shell detonating shockwaves rattling every gaslit ganglion again.

Mello's muscular silhouette blotted away any remaining light bleeding through the chamber's partitions until just that singular immense corona remained glowing behind your retinae now.

Lording over everything with an intensity seizing away all self-possession spiraling your descent into purely instinctual compulsions alone surrendering to the unyielding gravitic force drawing you both closer...closer...until...

The scalding friction of his rough fingertips impacted your jaw trembling through the delicate musculature leaving smoldering trails in their wake while your irises rolled back overwhelmed by such potent sensory overload.

They traced upwards towards those angular crimson-kissed contours lingering within the crest before his forehead crashed against yours sending fractal sunbursts detonating outward against the rapidly contracting peripherals.

"You are the only one who doesn't run away petrified whenever I tear off the final mask restraining my most primal nature..."

He snarled under scorched breath dripping directly between your rapidly shallowing gasps.

"Instead you challenge the beast by refusing to submit or break no matter how intensely I provoke you towards unleashing your own inner demons in turn. Perhaps that is the real justice we both ultimately crave most of all..."

You bit your lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the sudden proximity of your bodies. Then, something snapped in him, realizing he let his emotions shown. Again.

First anger then, God he didn’t even know why, with you vulnerability.

He simply inhaled sharply, before storming out of his private room. Leaving you alone, your mind racing with questions you knew you will never have the answers.

[ghostlysoaps]

Nothing behind the eyes

Simon had thought himself equipped to handle it, the world crumbling down, but even Ghost can’t shield him from the sight of Johnny falling in a hail of crimson, blood pooling around his head like a jagged crown, nor the feeling of stillness as he presses his fingers to the side of his neck.

They leave him there, though he fights tooth and nail against the grip on his vest. They’re not even in the clear when the facility blows. His ears hadn’t stopped ringing since the gunshot and the explosion after helps none. Debris scatters with unbridled force, yet he doesn’t feel the gauges they carve through him until Price presses down on the weeping wounds.

He’d been the lucky one out of them, their captain. Ghost had needed stitches and Gaz a lengthy hospital stay on top of physical therapy before he was fit for fight again, albeit with new shadows haunting his eyes.

Ghost hands his resignation in soon after and does what he does best.

Disappear.

His new flat sees more life than his last one ever did. In the daylight hours he walks shambling trails on the already worn floor, tries to keep his mind and body busy, to acclimate to the sounds and scents of a smaller town where he’s not yet mapped the streets in their entirety. At night it hears him choking on gasps, sees his stirring limbs and the heaving of breaths as he jerks awake, again and again, from nightmares so vivid the taste of gravedirt lingers on his tongue and Johnny’s corpse, grinning from within a coffin his sergeant hadn’t seen, is still imprinted on the backs of his closed eyelids. 

The only torture worse than seeing Soap broken, being the one to further desecrate his corpse to free himself, is seeing him happy. When he’s hail and whole and reaching for Simon with laughter pouring like gold from his mouth. Because he’ll wake from those moments of false tranquillity, where all is right again, only to face a reality wherein it never came to fruition.

-

It’s a small thing. A creak of the floorboards. Something shifting close by. Simon is surprised to have heard it over the low whine in his ears, but instinct is a formidable thing even while on the cusp of sleep.

Ghost catches the steel-bearing arm when it careens for his neck and twists himself out of bed as he works to unsteady the assailant. They’re trained well. When he hooks one foot behind their leg to take them to the floor, they retaliate by grappling him in a move Ghost remembers teaching countless others. He’s at a disadvantage. The person going for his throat is strong and he’s dressed in tactical gear. Heavy where he struggles to pin Ghost down enough to wring his neck or slice the scar running down his chest back open again. 

But he’s not the only one armed, not when Ghost has knives stashed within reach and he manages to fumble one into his palm and drag it down his assailant’s thigh.

The distraction it brings allows him to flip their positions, to bash the man’s head against the floor until his eyes grow dazed.

He’s wearing a mask to shield his lower face, metal akin to a muzzle, and Ghost hesitates when those green irises catch his own – the shade of them unfamiliar though the shape of the eyes carrying them are not.

Cognisance is returning rapidly in that hollow gaze so Ghost does the only logical thing. 

He knocks him unconscious.

It gives him a momentary breather and Ghost uses that time to strip the assailant of his gear, of any hidden weaponry, and to tie him up with firm bands of rope made from hastily repurposed sheets. He doesn’t touch the mask until the overhead light is switched on. It feels sacrilegious to rid someone else of  the very thing Simon had used to protect himself for so long.

Soap stares back at him from beneath it. His mouth and jawline, his facial hair messier than he’d seen before. Ghost’s body had felt it the moment he had his thighs wrapped around the shadowed figure standing over his bed, had known, deep down, and had denied it until the proof was irrefutable. Dread creeps up his spine the longer he stares. Messy locks of brown hair covers his temple and Ghost very nearly rips it out of his scalp in his haste to bare it. A gnarled scar rests underneath, free of new growth, spanning nearly the length of his profiled head.

Pain blooms over his forearm and Ghost hisses, training kicking in to shove the appendage deeper into the teeth lodged there rather than tearing it (and a chunk of his flesh) away. His remaining hand digs fingers into the hinge of Soap’s jaw until it falls open, teeth bloodied and frothing with saliva. Yet the expression on his face barely changes. It remains terrifyingly placid. The way a rabies-stricken animal can go sweet and comfort seeking before the inevitable decline. They stare at one another for a beat, Ghost’s hand now gentled on his face – though a pale show of one considering how he’d been born for violence alone.

“Soap?”

No response.

He goes through every name he remembers them calling him and nothing sparks so much as a blink.

-

Prompts by @whumperless-whump-event and @seth-whumps