#minor dental surgery

[bintturaab]

I honestly can't remember the last time I was properly healthy, but seeing how our brothers and sisters are suffering in Palestine and everywhere else, I have nothing to complain about. At least I have access to medication and health care. I have money to afford it. I can go to the hospital without worrying about being bombed into oblivion or held hostage.

Seeing the situation of the ummah truly makes me realise how immensely blessed and privileged I am. Alhamdulillah, thumma Alhamdulillah.

May Allah allow us to use our blessings in aiding our brothers and sisters who are oppressed throughout the world, ameen.

[forcedhesitation]

I'm. nearly finished the cosmetic contest video. after...almost 13 hours of non-stop editing...

there is not even any respite from this madness in my immediate future...as corydalis' birthday is technically next week OTL

[ramblingeekette]

Went on a mini vacation to spend time with friends as it was much needed thanks to all the chaos that's been happening at work.

Which was going nice until I got a call yesterday that one of my team members passed away unexpectedly. He was one of our team members with special needs that we all adored and it's a huge shock to us all. So when I go back on Wednesday I'm going to try to see if I can get other stores to help with coverage for this weekend so we can go pay our respects at the funeral and try to make something meaningful for his family to show how much we appreciated him.

I'm just so so sad right now. He was one of my favorite people to work with and he was such a joy to have around.

[transexualpirate]

some people clearly still think that trauma can be magically healed overnight huh. been working on it for four months but im not well enough yet and it's as though some people genuinely believe i wasn't and am not working on it at all. slow progress is fucking still progress

[somecunttookmyurl]

you probably have the same liver issue i do but in the opposite direction bc i hate to tell you this but that is ALSO not a normal response to caffeine (but in the other direction). hi yang! im yin.

and as someone with chronic pain and adhd who is immune (or highly resistant) to painkillers, local anaesthetic, amphetamines, benzodiazepines, caffeine, and with an alcohol tolerance that has (if nothing else) won me several bets who is basically rawdogging life not by choice but by virtue of my liver being Just Such A Fucking Asshole About It i am alive through sheer spite

this is why i have a pair of booty shorts with "god won't let me die" on the ass

a fun and fucked up fact about me is that when i was in sixth form (16-18), approximately 10 years prior to being diagnosed ADHD, i drank SO MUCH store brand energy drink that 2 things happened

1) It became such an obvious and well known Thing about me that my tutors started putting "too much red bull can kill you" news articles on the walls. These were not present in rooms I didn't have classes in. It was not a college-wide initiative. That was for me, specifically. Nobody said it but we all knew.

2) Several friends suggested, in all seriousness, I contact the Guinness Book of Records to set a record for "most caffeine consumed with no physical effect" after I had 3x 1 litre bottles in about an hour and my heart rate was still exactly the same and nothing about my demeanour had changed at all. Meanwhile Ryan had 1 bottle and was physically vibrating. Because he's normal.

(I didn't do it because it would require having a medical professional present the whole time to verify and like absolutely nobody with a medical degree is going to do that in good conscience)

[msgexymunson]

Dr E. Munson, D.D.S

Description: praise from your dentist is the last thing you thought would stoke your passions. During another meeting, intoxicated after surgery, you accidently tell him how he makes you feel. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst and smut, my favourite trio. NSFW Minors DNI, reader mid 20s and Eddie mid to late 30s but not explicitly stated, no real time given implied 90s but written as open, reader is AFAB, no use of Y/N, tooth extraction (don’t worry it's not gory), little to no knowledge of the dental industry (please don't come for me I tried my best), fem oral receiving, overstimulation, massive praise kink, p in v protected sex.

A/N: Well, the tale of my praise kink being activated at the dentist appears to have struck a chord with you all, so as unbelievable as this is, just go with it. Eddie's a dentist. Not just a dentist, but a soft pleasure dom dentist ;) I tried to make it believable!! Also, I can't write short fics anymore. I gotta get elaborate before I get into the good ole porn. 

🖤 Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood, please reblog if you want me to keep writing, it really makes my day sweethearts. 🖤

8.8K words

Masterlist

Fidgeting restlessly with your rings, your leg shakes compulsively as you sit in the sterile waiting room. You really wish you didn't have to go through this alone, but your best friend Alex is working and you are far too old to be going to the dentist with your mom. 

Needs must, though. Yesterday, whilst you were eating one of your nieces candy suckers of all things, you bit down and shattered a wisdom tooth. Just thinking about it you can see Dr Burke's stern face, with his ridiculously bushy eyebrows and wrinkled frown, telling you off for eating too much sugar. 

When the perky receptionist calls your name and instructs you to go to room 2, you're a wobbling bubble of nerves. Walking over the cheap linoleum on click clack heels, you pause for a moment outside the door in confusion. 

The little plaque on the wooden door is different. It used to hold old Dr Burke's name on it, but it's changed. 

Dr E. Munson, D.D.S.

Swinging the door open, you see a much younger man sitting on a swivel stool looking over some notes. His hair is long and wavy, so long he's scraped it into a low ponytail, and there's a sprinkle of stubble over his face. As he looks up, you're met with the deepest, most soulful brown eyes you've ever seen. And is that, an eyebrow piercing? He flashes a grin, one filled with such mischief that for a second you forget why you're here. 

“Well hello! You must be my next patient. Take a seat right here.” 

He pats the treatment chair but you still stand gormlessly by the door. 

��You're not Dr Burke.”

Well done idiot, state the obvious.

“Seems your eyesights OK.” 

He shoots a wink at you which immediately turns your insides to jello. 

“Dr Burke retired actually. I'm Dr Munson, I just moved to the city. You can call me Eddie.” 

He extends a hand out to you. Shuffling forward in your pencil skirt you click your way over to him and take his hand. It's huge, enveloping your own, but he holds your hand with care and shakes it very gently. 

He lets go to wash his hands and put a pair of latex gloves on. 

“You know you don't have to dress up to go to the dentist, but it's appreciated.” 

Is he flirting with me? 

“I-I was at work this morning.” 

You perch on the seat and pull your legs up, sliding your handbag to the floor. 

“So, what seems to be the problem?” 

“I was, well…” 

“It's OK sweetheart, I ain't gonna tell you off.” 

Sweetheart? Oh Holy Shit. 

You found yourself clenching your toes in your heels. This guy is far too hot to be a dentist.

“I was eating a sucker and I, well, I bit down, broke my back right wisdom tooth. It shattered.”

He scoots his stool towards you and instructs you to open your mouth. As he examines you he hums, feeling inside your mouth with a gloved hand. 

“Yup, that's broken up alright. I'm sorry, that must be painful. Don't worry, I'll do my best to help. I'm gonna do an x-ray, that OK?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pulling a little plastic T instrument from his desk, he wheels back over.

“Now, this is going to be uncomfortable, and I'm real sorry. Open your mouth and I'll slide it in gently.” 

Face flickering a violent shade of red, you nod. Surely he's aware of how this sounds?

“OK, open wide, that's it.” 

He puts the little contraption in your mouth.

“OK, now bite down. I know, it's uncomfortable. It'll just take a second. That's it, just breathe for me.” 

It's not intolerable but it's not exactly nice. A moment before it would have been too much he takes it out. 

“That's it, did so good for me. Well done sweetheart.” 

Now, this is not the fucking time to have these sorts of feelings. A heat had started  spreading between your legs that you haven't felt for quite some time. 

“Hmm,” Eddie said as he looked at the x-ray, “I definitely need to remove those pieces. I'm a bit concerned about the tooth above it. That's got a cavity, it'll need to be removed, but it'll need surgery I'm sorry to say.” 

“Surgery? Oh God.” 

“Hey, it'll be alright. I'd do it now but it's too risky. Never had to go into surgery before?” 

Laughing nervously, you fiddle with your fingers. 

“I've never had a tooth removed! I'm a tooth removal virgin.” 

The words just flew out and there was nothing you could do to pull them back. Eddie leaned in a little, a cheeky glint in his eye. 

“Well, then I'll be extra gentle.” 

A stare that's a fraction too long, and he scoots back over to his desk. Not long after he's got a needle in his hand.

“Now, I'm gonna need to numb the area, and this is going to be painful. But once this is done, that's the worst of it. If you need me to stop at any point, you just raise your hand. That OK?” 

“Sure, do what you need to.”

“Atta girl, so brave for me. Open your mouth wide.” 

My good God this man and his words; you can picture yourself on your knees in front of him as he says the same things.

Atta girl, take it a little deeper, that's it, so good for me… 

Squirming hotly in your seat, you do as instructed and his gloved fingers invade your mouth once more. 

“OK, you're gonna feel a sharp scratch, it'll go on for a few seconds, doing it now… good girl.” 

As he says ‘good girl’ two things happen. He injects your gum, and you flood your panties. The pain is inconsequential at this point, you just want him to keep talking to you like that.

“OK, one more sweetheart… that's it, so brave, look at you, taking it so well.” 

He stares at you with those soft brown eyes and once again you forget entirely why you're here. 

“Now, you should start to feel your lips tingle, it'll mean it's working.” 

Your dirty mind can't help but think; which lips? 

As a numbness invades your mouth, you let him know. 

“Yeah, it's definitely working.”

“Good stuff. Now, I'm gonna feel in your mouth again, OK?”

You nod, beyond words, and he puts his fingers in your mouth. 

“Now, if you need me to stop, what do you do?” 

Sheepishly you hold your hand up.

“That's it, atta girl. Such a good listener.” 

Nothing you can do but beam inwardly at the praise.

“Now, you can feel me right here, but there should be no pain, yeah?” 

Resisting the urge to moan around his fingers, you make a sound akin to a muffled ‘uhuh’.

“Awesome, now just hold still, you'll hear some crunching and feel pressure, and then it'll be done.” 

As he pulls a shiny implement from a tray and starts working the tooth shards from your mouth, you focus on his forehead, at the look of total concentration. How the lines on his forehead furrow. How his beautiful eyes harden slightly. How his perfect pink tongue dips out… 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He laughs, a rich, bubbling thing, and nods.

“Yup. You're good. Need to make an appointment at the desk for the other tooth though.”

“Will you be doing that?” 

It rushes out in a blather which you can't control. 

“Sure thing sweetheart. Just ask at the desk for me.” 

“OK. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem. Got to be there for my favourite patient.” 

He flashes another wink at you which seems to rush straight to your knees as you get up and leave on newborn foal legs. Reaching the door, you hear his voice ring out behind you. 

“And what should we do with suckers next time?” 

Turning to face him, he raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response with the most serious expression he's given you so far. 

“I should… suck?” 

“Yeah you should.” 

A mind altering grin later and he's turning back to his desk. 

I should suck? What the hell is wrong with you! You need to get laid like, yesterday.

********************

It's a couple of weeks later and you're laying in the most unflattering hospital gown known to man with your best friend Alex who is trying to distract you. 

“Honey, you'll be fine, they're putting you under! It's like, free drugs!” 

You laugh at his antics, smiling with nerves. 

“It's not the surgery, its-” 

You hear mumbling in the doorway, two nurses gossiping in what they must think is out of earshot. 

“Did you hear? Dr Munsons performing the surgery?” 

“Yeah, he's not even supposed to be here. I hear Dr Stevens is pissed.” 

As they walk away, continuing their whispering, you look over to Alex who is smirking at you. 

“Oh, so he's not even supposed to be here? Ooh he likes you!” 

You blush, thinking about the other day. 

“No! I… I asked for him, that's all. You know I don't like this sort of shit.”

“Ah, so you thought Dr Dreamy would make it bearable huh?” 

“Shut up!” 

Dr Munson walks in then, smiling that smile that held a firm grip on your panties. Alex's eyes widen as he mouths the word ‘hot’ to you. You subtly nod your agreement and then smile at Eddie.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” 

“Couldn't stay away,” you respond, rolling your eyes. He chuckles back and looks you up and down. 

“I told you sweetheart, no need to get dressed up for me.” 

“What, this old thing?”

You share a laugh whilst Alex's eyebrows raise practically through the roof. This is clearly crossing some line, this banter between you, but he's the doctor and he started it. 

Soon, the procedure has been explained and they're wheeling you out of there and putting you under anaesthesia. 

“OK, good job, such a brave girl. Now, countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten, nine, eight…” 

********************

Blinking bleary-eyed, you look around and catch the eye of your friend. 

“She's awake! You OK?” 

You are OK. In fact, you're fantastic. 

“I'm great! M'I goin’ in surgery now?” 

“You've been, it's done! It's all fine.”

“Huh?” 

A fantastically handsome man walks in, entirely distracting you. Long hair, sparkling eyes, a gorgeous smile, and a slender tall frame. He's so hot. Wait, you can just say he's hot, right? 

“Wow, wh'ryou? You're suuuper hot.” 

He laughs, looking a little embarrassed. 

“I'm Dr Munson, remember? Eddie. The er, drugs will wear off soon.” 

“Eddie!” 

You sit up immediately, despite the hands that shoot out to keep you still. 

“Now, take it easy, the ketamine makes people act a little funny. How are you feeling?”

“M’great! All… floaty like. S’good shit.” 

Eddie laughs as Alex holds his head in his hands. 

“Good to hear. It'll wear off soon, I'm sure your boyfriend will take good care of you.” 

“Nooo he's n’my’boyfrien’. He's suuuper gay. Ya’single? I no’had- not had any for nine months!” 

Alex pipes up. 

“Honey, you know I love you, so much, but you need to shut your mouth.” 

Eddie laughs, flashing his perfect teeth. 

“He's got a point. Glad you're doing good, the surgery went smoothly, so you'll be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thank's'much Eddie. God, you're s’gorgeous. Did I do good?” 

Eddie looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. 

“Course you did. The best. That's why you're my favourite patient.”

Holding your hand up to your mouth and doing the worst stage whisper known to man, you look at Alex. 

“See? Tol’ ya, his wors’ make me wet.” 

“...aaaand that's the line. Thanks for taking care of her Dr Munson, I'll get her home safe.” 

With protests from you, Eddie shuffles awkwardly out of the room. After a little while you're discharged, with Alex promising to look after you until you're back to normal.

********************

The strong coffee aroma assaults your nostrils; you take a massive inhale of your cup as if the caffeine could be absorbed by smell alone. The coffee shop was busy this Saturday morning but you'd managed to carve out your little comfy seat and tiny table so you can work on your writing. It was a relief after the busy week you've had to actually focus on something you love. 

The noises and chatter of the place wash over you as you zone out, thinking of how to handle the plot twist coming up. It needed to be thoughtful, but unforced, as if the characters… 

“Well, if it isn't my favourite patient.” 

“Huh?” 

You look up and see a very familiar pair of eyes. Eddie. The rest of him however, looks very different. 

Eddie's in an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, worn with age, and tight black jeans. A chain hangs low at his hip, and his large hands are adorned with silver rings. His hair is loose and unkept around his shoulders, but his signature smile still beams at you. His forearms are on display, covered in tattoos. It's certainly not what you were expecting. How did he just get even hotter? 

Remembering what Alex told you about how you made an utter fool of yourself brings you out of your revelry. The stuff you said to him after surgery makes you visibly cringe. You were torn between wanting to ask him out and wanting the ground to swallow you whole. 

Cheeks blazing with heat, you find your voice.

“Eddie! Er, hi.” 

“You mind if I sit here? It's pretty packed.”

Gesturing at him to make himself comfortable, he swings his leg over the stool opposite and sits down, mug of steaming coffee in his hands. 

“What brings you here?” 

“Well, I write. As a hobby, you know? Needed to get out of the house and get some done. And you?” 

He points a thick finger across the street and you gulp in your throat, remembering the feel of those fingers in your mouth. 

“There's a record store across the way, I was scouting for anything I've missed. Unlucky today it seems.” 

It was weird seeing him here. Like when you see a teacher in the wild. Except you're not a kid, and the teacher is fucking fine. 

You nod and share a very uncomfortable silence. 

“Listen, I'm sorry for anything I said-” 

“Hey, don't worry about it sweetheart, it was the drugs. Trust me I've heard some weird shit!”

He seems to shrug it off and you breathe a sigh of relief. The last few weeks all you've managed to think about is how much of a fool you've made of yourself. Hopefully he's chalked it all up to the drugs. No need for him to know you were speaking the truth.

“I gotta say, you don't look like a dentist.” 

Eddie laughs, a perfect deep laugh that has you squirming in your seat. 

“Yeah, I get that alot. I er, used to get beat up when I was a kid. I got punched real hard once, broke my jaw. It was wired shut for like six weeks. After that, well, you find some respect for dentistry. Thought I'd give it a shot, went to school. Seems I have a knack for it. I have an impeccable bedside manner, apparently. Or so I'm told.” 

I'll say. 

“I can- I can see that.” 

He blazes a grin at you that damn near combusts your insides. And that's what you blame for the thing that's about to fall out of your big mouth.

“Listen, I know this is crazy but can I have your number?” 

What the fuck are you doing?? Hitting on your dentist?

It seems your word vomit was indeed something that happened in real life and not just in your head. Eddie looks pained as he warms his hands on his coffee mug. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you're a very pretty girl but… I can't. It'd be wrong of me, you're my patient and-” 

“No, I get it, it was dumb, ignore me.” 

You grab your belongings at the speed of lightning and stuff everything into your bag. 

“Hey, sweetheart, wait, I literally ca-” 

Hell no. 

You've made more of an idiot of yourself than you're prepared to be comfortable with. Now, cheeks burning hotly you shoulder your heavy bag and bustle out of the store, leaving an open mouthed Eddie sitting there with his arm outstretched.

********************

Today was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake of embarrassment. You've never asked a guy for his number before and the first time you do you're shot down? Confidence well and truly knocked, you called around and found a new dentist, and then called your old dentist's office to let them know. There was no way you could face Eddie again after you'd made a fool of yourself three times. 

In an effort to cheer yourself up after that disastrous rendezvous, you'd dressed up, put on your highest heels paired with your shortest skirt and a red silk blouse, and went out for a night on the town. 

Now, you don't make a habit of sitting at the bar on your own. You've dealt with enough creeps in your time to know that it was a bad idea. However, when it comes to your friends, you can give a little leeway. 

Hence why you sat in your very short black skirt, heels tapping on the little rail on the bottom of the bar as you sip your Manhattan, watching your friend Alex out the corner of your eye have a make-out session with his new boyfriend. They were sitting at a table just to the right; you were on a barstool giving them a couple feet of privacy. 

It was getting a little old though. In the past half an hour three men had approached you. You can't lie to yourself, it was the reason you'd agreed to be a third wheel in the first place. Trying to manifest the right kind of man clearly wasn't working however. 

The first guy looked around twelve, with the wispiest facial hair you've ever seen. As he'd nervously bumbled a line at you, you told him you've never seen a theoretical moustache before. That saw the back of him. Contestant number two was the sleaziest douchebag in the whole bar, perhaps the entire city. He was the hardest to deal with; you'd ended up just turning away and ignoring him until he'd left. Number three was some balding, middle aged man with a pot belly and a stained tie. Exhausted by the previous two, you interrupted his practised line with one clear and concise ‘No’.

Almost certain that your date tonight would involve you with your vibrator, you order another cocktail. On your left directly next to you a guy starts leaning on the bar and calls to the bartender. 

“Hey Jack, can I get a beer please, and whatever this lovely girl is drinking.” 

Rolling your eyes and turning to look at contestant number four, ready to tell them to fuck right off, you realise its Eddie. Of course it fucking is. The universe seems to have a horrible sense of humour today. He's still in his jeans and boots, but now sporting a burgundy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Stupid dentist and his stupid hot tattooed forearms. 

“Are you following me? I don't need a pity drink thanks, I'm good.” 

You reach into your purse to pay for the drink you ordered but Eddie already has cash in his hand. He pays for it anyway and leans on the bar facing you. 

“It's not pity, it's an apology for earlier. And I think you're the one following me, I live two floors up.” 

Lips pressed into a firm line, you stir your drink with its cocktail stick and pretend that dentists don't exist.

“You can't just ignore me, you know.” 

Taking a sip of your drink you continue to stare resolutely forward. 

“OK, you can just ignore me, but I'd like it if you didn't.” 

Another sip, and you pull the little cherry off its stick and chew it. 

“So, you got a thing for dentists or is it just me, sweetheart?” 

That's it, you turn angrily to face him and scowl. 

“That's totally unfair you can't just-”

“Ha, got ya talking.” 

He's grinning at his little victory, laughter lines creasing near his eyes. If your eyes could shoot daggers you're sure he would have died from blood loss at this point. 

“Listen, I'm sorry, OK? I would have said yes in a fucking heartbeat, but I could lose my license.” 

Your eyes soften; he's clearly telling the truth and it does make sense. His licence hadn't even entered your mind. 

“I understand. Sorry for being rough on you.” 

“Don't worry about it. I just thought I better clear the air if I'm gonna be your dentist.” 

“Oh, don't worry about it. You're not.” 

“Huh?”

Looking down at the bar and drawing circles in the condensation from your drink with a finger, you explain. 

“I couldn't face seeing you again, so I, ha, ran off to a different dentist. It's a half hour out of my way, but never mind.” 

Eddie's posture changes immediately, standing fully to attention. 

“You're not my patient anymore?” 

“Nope,” you reply, and knock back the last of your drink, “I'm not.” 

“You're not my patient anymore.” 

You risk looking back at him; he's wide eyed, nodding in your direction, as if he's just told a joke that you didn't get. Face scrunched with confusion, you blink it away as a light bulb pings on inside your head. 

“Oh. I'm not your patient anymore.” 

The grin that slowly unfolds across Eddie's face is damn right sinful. 

“You wanna come upstairs?” 

“Hell yes.” 

Leaping lightly off of the bar stool, you turn to dislodge your coat from the back of Alex's chair and wave at him frantically to tell him you're leaving. He turns to you, then Eddie, then back to you with what can only be described as A Look. If you weren't so excited you would have admonished him, but who the fuck cares. 

Eddie grabs your hand firmly and pushes through the thronging crowd with you in tow. The cold night air hits you like a blow to the chest when you escape, as does your rash decision. 

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation. Pulling you into a doorway he grabs your other hand and looks at you. 

“Sweetheart, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to. We can just go upstairs, have a drink, or not, and chat. Really.” 

“Really?” You cock your head with the question as he licks his bottom lip with a pink tongue, dragging it to his perfect teeth to bite. He looks nervous, and for some reason, that is doing it for you right now. 

“Really. I'm just saying we don't have to rush-” 

The rest of his sentence is swallowed whole by your kiss as you tip your head up and push your lips against his firmly. Eddie grabs your waist with one hand, the other snaking into your hair to cradle your head. 

For a moment you forget about the cold, about the fact that anyone can see you like this right now. All that matters is the pounding heat of his body smashing against yours and the passion pouring from his tongue as it swipes and rolls and fills your mouth with unexpected moans.

Nails digging into his back, as if attempting to claw under his clothes, you force his body against the wall in the wanton desire to be closer. His hand massages the silk of your blouse at your waist, warmth spreading from his palm into your very flesh and seeping down between your legs. 

You'd have him, right here, against this wall, right now, if he hadn't pulled your head back softly to break the kiss. The tips of your noses rub together as you both gasp for the same air. He's smiling and biting his lip again, but this time it looks like a distraction to stop himself from devouring you. Eddie breaks the feral spell first.

“So, just a chat, yeah?” 

You both laugh, a giddy silly thing reserved for the two of you. 

“Yeah, you're probably right. Don't want to rush these things.” 

Nodding sagely, you take his proffered hand and let him lead you inside and up the stairs. 

You're not sure what you expect his place to look like, but you're pleasantly surprised at how open and spacious it is. Hardwood floors, big windows, a big black sofa, and an open kitchen area with a little breakfast bar. There's a wall of shelves with what must be hundreds of records, CDs and tapes on it, all neatly organised and displayed, and an expensive looking sound system. Two guitars sit by the couch as if they'd been played recently, along with an amp that seems to be doubling as a side table. There's a small pile of boxes over by one wall that have yet to be unpacked. And that's it.

No wonder it looks so spacious, there's nothing in it. 

“Eddie, it's a great place, but er, where's all your stuff?” 

He looks a little sheepish as he flicks a standing lamp on and shuts the curtains. 

“Yeah. Got the basics sorted; kitchen, bedroom, music. Honestly, never lived anywhere this big before, and my last place came furnished.” 

He gestures widely at the sofa with a swing of his arm and you perch on it, ankles crossed, fully aware of how short your skirt is. 

“So, you wanna drink? Unfortunately I can't make a Manhattan but I’ve got rum, some vodka, sodas, maybe a beer?” 

“What do you mean you can't make a Manhattan? What sort of establishment is this?” 

You huff dramatically, folding your arms. 

“I'm terribly sorry Ma’am, I shall have a word with the management.” 

Eddie falls to one knee in a low bow, a mock plea for your forgiveness and the sheer goofiness makes your heart do a little hop inside your chest. 

“What can I possibly do to make it up to you?” 

His eyes are open, honest and sincere. But the grin fighting to crawl over his face is naughtiness personified.

“Well I shall have a beer now, and maybe you can make it up to me later?” 

Smirking, he presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another, to the side of it. Letting his teeth drag further he playfully nips at the outside of your thigh and smooths the area with a lick. 

Breathe. Remember, you need oxygen to live. 

You take a harsh, ragged breath in as if inhaling for the first time and try to concentrate on slowing your heart rate. This is madness, you feel wrecked from a sprinkling of kisses. 

Feeling Eddie's soft chuckle as the air from it dances on your thigh, he gets back up looking far too pleased with himself. 

“You know, you shouldn't be that forward with a lady.” 

Throwing his head back and laughing loudly he walks around the back of the couch. Directly behind you, he begins talking again. 

“I don't see a lady here.” 

Whipping your head around to reprimand him, he bends to your level and whispers in your exposed ear. 

“I see a very good girl.” 

Words die in your throat having never reached your tongue. There's no witty repartee, just an odd noise that blurts out of you, halfway between a whimper and a squeak. 

Eddie walks away towards the fridge to grab your drink, no doubt with a very smug look on his face. In his absence you fan yourself to try to quench some of the raging heat within, but at this point it's like throwing a water bomb at a house fire. Undoing one button on your blouse, you let the girls have a little air at least. 

He returns, drinks in hand, and offers one to you with a bow of his head. 

“Milady.” 

You take it and sip as Eddie sits next to you. 

“I thought I wasn't a lady?”

“You are right, absolutely right,” he responds, shuffling closer to put an arm around you, and nuzzles your neck teasingly, “and I am not a gentleman.” 

You reach out to the side, and realise there's nowhere to put your beer. 

“Eddie, you need a coffee table or something.” 

“Just, put it on the floor.” 

Placing it gently on the floor, wincing as you do so, you mumble half to yourself, “if my mother could see me now…” 

“I'm sure she'd have more important things to say than about the lack of coasters, sweetheart.” 

“You have a very good point.” 

Eddie holds your jaw, softly turning your face to his own, and presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, and finally to your lips. It's more gentle than the searing heat of the last one; a languid spell of tongues finding their way against each other. 

As you both break away, Eddie strokes your bare thigh, whispering in your ear as he does so. 

“God, when you walked in my office, I thought I might have to switch professions. I just wanted to hike that tight skirt up and bury my face right here.” 

His hand moves up your leg, a finger ghosting over the top of your panties that makes a shiver work all its way to the tips of your toes. It's a bold move, and one you wouldn't stand for usually, but this is Eddie. You've been fantasising about this for the last two months. Hell, this scene has played in your brain so long it was almost like it didn't feel like the first time.

So, if he's going to be that bold, then bold it is.

“Well, I gotta confess, it took a lot for me to not moan around your fingers in my mouth.” 

Eddie groans loud, throwing his head against the back of the couch. 

“Fuck that's so hot. C'mere.” 

He's coaxing you into his lap and you follow his lead, swinging your leg across him and most likely giving him a choice view of your lacy underwear. His large hands wander over your frame, mapping out your curves with his eyes as well as his fingers. 

“Eddie.” 

You breathe it out, your hands resting on his shoulders. He's getting hard beneath you, you can feel it as your hips start to move back and forth of their own accord. 

“Hmm?” 

He doesn't look up, busy stroking your sides, thumb brushing your breasts with each pass. Every nerve feels like a live wire, feeling more needy than you think you've ever been. 

“Eddie, please, just kiss me.” 

“No.” 

“No?”

He does look at you then, giving you a cheeky smile.

“I think I've got the hottest girl in the city on my lap right now, let me savour it a little.” 

Rolling your eyes, you reach to the front of your blouse and start unbuttoning it slowly, letting the silky fabric fall off your shoulders and away. The fates seem to be in your favour for once; this is your best bra, adorned in satin and black lace.

“Well, someone's eager. Were you looking to get lucky tonight?” 

Eddie says as he smirks at you, a hand stroking up, over your laced covered chest, coming to rest on the side of your throat. 

“It's been a while Eddie, forgive me for being keen.” 

“Oh yeah, what was it? Nine months, right?” 

Cringing at his words whilst he chuckles, you rest your forehead on his shoulder to hide your face. 

“Technically no.” It's muffled into the fabric of his shirt.

“No?”

Still unwilling to look at him, you reply, “that was a few weeks ago. It's ten now.” 

Pulling you upright again, he playfully pouts, a little mocking face that's making your insides pulse. 

“Aw, poor, poor baby. Guess I shouldn't tease so much. Why don't you take this ridiculous skirt off and sit for me sweetheart.” 

It's comical how quickly you follow his directions, shuffling your skirt off and laying back on the sofa, ass near the edge, as he drops to his knees on the floor in front of you. 

“That's it, right there. Such a good listener.”

As he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs, you spread your legs to make room for him, breath quickening in anticipation. 

“I suppose I better check,” he says as he looks up at you with a serious expression, pierced eyebrow arching. 

“Check what?” 

“How wet my words made you.” 

��Oh God!” you squeak, hiding in your hands, “I can't believe you remembered that!” 

“Remembered it? I can't think of anything else.” 

His thick rough fingertips reach higher and higher; he slips two under your panties, hooking them to one side as his digits glide through your wetness. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're soaked. That must be uncomfortable. Don't worry I'm gonna do something about that.” 

You're thinking of something clever to say back but your mind empties entirely as his touch moves to your clit and rubs slow, deliberate circles. 

The relief of him finally stroking just where you need it has you near tears, breathy gasps pulling from your chest and rushing out your mouth. 

His fingers leave you suddenly and you resist the urge to stamp your foot like an impatient toddler, fists tight at your sides. Eddie raises up on his knees, leaning toward your chest. 

“I'm gonna take this off first, that OK sweetheart?” 

He runs a finger between the valley of your breasts as he speaks, making your back arch into the hint of a touch. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Atta girl.” 

He reaches behind you and flicks your bra clasp, opening it with such ease that it makes you question internally how many times he's done that before. Then, he pulls the straps down slowly and with such reverence that you forget your thoughts. 

“Jesus Christ, you are just perfect aren't you.” 

Solid knuckles rub gently over a pebbled nipple making you whimper and bite your lip. Leaning in, his mouth is wet and warm, almost leisurely massaging your nipple, then giving the same amount of care and attention to the other. 

When his teeth graze you an unfiltered moan shoots out from you, entirely unbidden. 

“Wow, you're really sensitive,” he says when he unlatches his mouth. He pinches one abruptly and you cry out, hand grasping at his bicep in pleasurable shock. Licking his lips, he grins at you. 

“Oh we are gonna have a lot of fun sweetheart.” 

Running a finger just under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down as you assist him, lifting your ass to give him room. He shakes his head, biting his lip as he takes all of you in with his eyes now that you're entirely exposed, as if he can’t believe his luck. 

Kissing down your quivering form, he finally slips that overbold tongue of his between your folds, running it back and forth over your sensitive nub. His tongue searches you, taking care to leave no spot untouched. It's deliberate; a slow and intense exploration of your sex, as if mapping out every sweet spot, spurred on by the moans spilling from your lips with ever increasing frequency. 

Each sound you make is echoed, mirrored by Eddie, as if he was taking as much enjoyment in eating you out as you were in receiving it. The build up is as slow as his movements, but that certainly isn't a bad thing. Far from it. The feeling fizzing in your very blood is deep and profound, and it keeps building. 

Until Eddie does this twirling thing with his tongue that makes your eyes cross, that sets each one of your nerves on fire, fingers desperately grasping at his soft waves as you moan even louder. 

“Fuck, Eddie! Right there!” 

His words are muffled, a hint of amusement in them, but you're sure he says “yes ma'am.”

Then he does it again, and again, tongue twisting like it's independent from his body, swirling you into a deep pool of overwashing ecstasy. Back leaving the soft confines of the couch you clutch at his hair as your hoarse moans pound out of you, until you flop back down, a glistening panting mess. 

Eddie's still kissing your delicate parts, leaving soft, almost innocent kisses. He presses his lips to your clit again and you squirm, trying to get out of his gentle, grasping hands. It's a soft touch, but his hands are immovable, like velvet wrapped around a steel bar. 

“Eddie, fuck, I-I'm really sensitive-” 

“Oh I know sweetheart,” he says, pressing his mouth against you over and over, “but we're not done.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, he lifts one hand, ring and middle finger outstretched, and brushes the tips of them to your kiss bitten bottom lip. 

“Can you get these nice and wet for me sweetheart?”

Parting your lips slightly, he slips the fingers inside and you do as instructed, licking and suckling on them, surprised by how fiercely you wanted to. They felt rough and heavy on your tongue. Eddie's staring at you with a burning admiration in his eyes, still pushing his lips to you. He suckles softly at your clit making you writhe and moan around him. As he pulls his fingers out you call to him. 

“Eddie, I can't it's too much-” 

“Shhh, princess, do you really want me to stop?” 

A little drop of shame trickles down your throat at the thought. 

“No,” you whisper. 

“That's what I thought,” he says as his fingers circle your silken entrance, “be good for me sweetheart, good girls come twice.” 

You're not sure if the heady moan that you release is due to his fingers slipping inside you, or his words. It could be a combination of both. Stroking at you incessantly, his fingers drive into you, perpetually caressing that soft spot inside that makes your toes curl. 

Your release creeps up unsurprisingly fast. It's all force and pressure, a tightening, full feeling that's gripping your insides in its strong claws. One minute you're holding on to reality and the next, you're gone, floating away as the pressure melts and cascades from you like stardust. 

Your vision unblurring, you realise what's happened when the sound of it reaches your ears. That squelching, soaking noise of Eddie's fingers working you through the last throes of your pleasure. 

As you look down Eddie's staring at your dripping pussy with awe, having to pull his fingers out of you with a bit of force since you don't seem to want to let go. He sits back on his heels with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cats, absolutely coated in your juices. It's covering his face, his hand, and it's even darkened the front and sleeve of his shirt. 

An apology nestles on the tip of your tongue, but it stays there when Eddie speaks. 

“Atta girl, did so good for me. Fuck, I kinda want to see if you can do that again.” 

Opening your mouth for a witty remark, it escapes you. Your usually sharp mind is now the consistency of spray cheese. All that comes out is a soft little noise, a cross between a hum and a thank you. 

“Stay right there, I'll be back.” 

You giggle a little as he runs off. Where on earth does he think you'll go? And more importantly, how? 

When he returns his face and hands are clean, and crucially, he's shirtless. Lean muscle gleams in the low light, decorated with a dozen or so tattoos. He's got a cloth in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. 

“Here, drink up sweetheart, you need it.” 

You search for a hint of playfulness or smugness in his face and come up empty. In fact, he's staring, waiting for you to take a sip. When you do, he smiles, and goes about wiping the tops of your thighs. The cloth is even warm. You've never been given a warm cloth before, the closest being a handful of scrunched up tissues. 

“Eddie, where have you been all my life?” 

Laughing loudly, he sits next to you, stealing a sip of your water. 

“I came as quickly as I could.” 

It was a cheesy line, but you're beyond caring, a goofy grin smeared all over your face. 

“Can I take you to the bedroom?” 

You nod and before you can get up he's scooping you into his arms. 

“Eddie, I can walk you know,” you say as you drape your arms around his neck. 

“Oh I know, I just want to take care of you.” 

Fuck. You could move in tomorrow. 

The only things you notice about the bedroom are the soft blue of the duvet as he places you gently on top of it and the bedside lamps he flicks on that bathe the room in a warm glow. The rest doesn't matter, not right now. Your eyes are on him as he stands at the edge of the bed, looking at you as if you were a beautiful sculpture carved from the finest marble. 

Getting up on your knees, you smile cheekily up at him as you hook your fingers into the worn denim and pop the top button. 

“And what do you think you're doing?” He asks, hand moving up to cradle your face. 

“I was going to return the favour.” 

You unzip the fly and pull them down, eyes widening at the swollen bulge in his trunks. They're tight, leaving little room for the imagination, but anything you may have imagined couldn't possibly compare to the real thing. 

“Not tonight sweetheart. Like I said, I want to take care of you.” 

He turns to the nightstand and rummages around, pulling out a packet of condoms. It's new, you notice, as he unwraps the film and takes one out, placing it on the side whilst he rolls his underwear off.

As he's putting it on you gawp shamelessly, truly wondering if it's actually going to fit. No wonder he's so confident. 

“Did you actually just turn down a blow job?” 

He smiles, crawling between your legs and caging your head between his arms. 

“What can I say, I'm a giver.” 

He stops for a moment, knuckles stroking your cheek. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” 

Smiling gently, you reach down and grasp his solid member making him jolt, and rub the tip through your slick. 

“Yes.” 

You line him up and his smile turns into an open mouthed groan, eyebrows knitting together as he starts slipping inside of you. 

“Eddie, holy- fuck.” 

“You're OK sweetheart, doing such a good job for me.” 

He pushes in further and you realise why all the foreplay was necessary. Clearly, he enjoyed it too, but you're not sure you could have taken him without it. When he's finally sitting flush inside you wince a little, hands tight on his shoulders. 

“You feel incredible, so tight for me.” 

Whimpering, you can feel your cheeks heat with the praise. 

“God you really do like my words don't you?” 

Grinning mischievously, he plants a soft kiss to your lips. It weirdly feels more intimate than him being inside you. 

“Y-yeah, it's really sexy Eddie.” 

His cock kicks up inside you, making you gasp a little. 

“You're really sexy. The little sounds you make, your moans.”

As if demonstrating that, he pulls out a little and thrusts in gently, forcing a quivering sigh from you. 

“See? Fucking perfect sweetheart.” 

He begins rolling his hips into you, never pulling out too much, as if he couldn't stand to be any further apart. 

One of his sinewy arms snakes its way underneath you, holding you close as he playfully nips your earlobe and breathing whispers into your ear. 

“How many times?” 

“Huh?” You respond, utterly lost in the feel of him dragging against your gripping walls. 

“How many times do you want to come?” 

You giggle, despite the situation, or maybe because of it.

“I don't usually, oh, get t-to choose, is there a- oh fuck- there a menu or something?” 

He chuckles and slows down just slightly, pushing into you devastatingly deep. 

“What's the most you've managed?” 

He's so thick, and the feel of him is otherworldly; it had you wondering how it'd feel without the layer of latex between you. 

“I can't- fuck- I can't think- like two?”

He stops, looking at you incredulously  with a furrowed brow.

“Two? We can do better than that.” 

He speeds up, leaning on one arm as his other hand finds its way down your torso and begins to rub your clit. That pulse inside you is sent into overdrive, mouth open and panting as you cling to his back, nails digging into his skin. 

Your release swells inside, growing, and intensifying, until it suddenly pops, showering you in pleasure. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as you moan out your release an inch from his face.

“Atta girl,” Eddie says as he nudges you with his nose, “do that again.” 

Your clit feels a little sore, swollen and sensitive after so much pleasure. His touch is gentle, but it's still overwhelming. 

“Eddie, I-I can't, please-” 

“You want me to stop? I'll stop if you want that sweetheart.” 

The sharp feeling begins to dull, making way for another wave of euphoria that washes over your whole body. Legs twitching uncontrollably, you whine long and low, a flood of noises bursting from you that no damn could ever stop. 

“That a no, sweetheart?” 

“Don't stop don't stop don’t stop - oh!” 

You'd be embarrassed by the crazy noise you made as you come again, if you were even aware of it. A screeching loud moan, eyes scrunched as your body leaves the bed and your nails drag across his bare back. 

“That's it, knew you could, so good for me. Fuck, nearly lost it.” 

He does stop then, biting his lip to stop himself from unleashing his own orgasm as his breath comes in short huffs. 

“Eddie, you don't have to- ohmygod!”

The last of your sentence evaporates on your tongue as he hooks his arms under your legs and pushes your thighs flush to your chest. It seems even Eddie has lost the power of speech, dirty moans pouring from his mouth that rival your own. 

He's so deep, impossibly deep; as if he were in your guts at this point. You've never felt so full in all your life. Your third release is almost there, a tightening string wound around you, pulling and twisting and contorting your body into a writhing sweaty shambles. 

You're clenching and convulsing around his pumping length as he twitches inside you, his groans and grunts spurring you on. It's faster now, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Sweat clings to the very air, the heat in the room creating this cloying humidity that dampens each breath out, making hair stick to skin and creating loud slapping sounds of your conjunction. 

Eddie's face is red with effort, teeth gritted and lips tight. 

“Are you gonna come again? I can feel you. Please, sweetheart, please- fuck- I need it, I need it, come with me!” 

You let go. The tight string breaks and your orgasm spreads through your very soul; it's so profound and savage that tears spill out and down your cheeks with its intensity. Eddie joins you, coming as one with a drawn out groan that borders on feral. 

For a moment, you both revel in it, just panting, feeling sticky skin against skin, heartbeats slowing, muscles unwinding and relaxing. 

He finally unhooks his arms from your legs and you lay them shakily on the down as he clambers off, collapsing next to you on the bed. 

“You OK sweetheart?” 

“Hmm.”

It's all you can reply with, a little satisfied noise. Scooting closer to him, you place your hand hesitantly on his chest. 

“Hang on a sec.” 

He gets up and disposes of the condom, slowly padding out the room. Returning again with another glass of water for you, he hands it over with a raise of an eyebrow. This time you take it gratefully, chugging half of it before passing it back. 

A moment of panic grips your chest, followed by shame. You barely know him, yet you'd gone to his place with hardly any hesitation. 

As he lays back down next to you, scooping his arm around your back, you clear your throat. 

“I just, er, wanted you to know I don't usually do this.” 

“Hey, it's alright. Neither do I.”

Feeling slightly less trampy, you stroke his chest with delicate fingers, wishing for the moment to last but knowing it can't. 

“I don't think my legs work anymore, I think you'll have to call me a taxi.”

Eddie sits up suddenly, looking at you with anguish written all over his face. 

“You're not leaving, are you?” 

“Well, I don't fancy doing the walk of shame tomorrow in that outfit.” 

He pouts, looking much younger than he is. 

“Oh. Well, you can always borrow something to wear?” 

“That's even worse!” You laugh, hitting his chest softly. 

“Fine, then I'll go out in the morning and buy you something to wear.” 

Staring at him wide eyed, you realise he's not joking. 

“Really?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd buy you a whole new wardrobe if it meant you’d stay.” 

Heart beating just that little bit faster in your chest, you fight the tears that want to build up. 

“I just thought, you know, well, we don't know each other that well and that you might think this was just, a thing.” 

“You mean a one night thing?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. 

“C'mere.” 

Melting into his open arms, he kisses the top of your head.

“I want you to stay. I'll take you home Monday and-” 

“Eddie, tomorrow's Sunday.” 

“I know.” 

“Eddie, I have to work Monday. So do you!” 

You laugh, trying to break free of his arms but he doesn't let up. 

“Fine, I'll take you home tomorrow. Late. Then see you Monday night.” 

Face hurting from smiling, you settle into the cuddle, the swell of feeling in your chest almost too much for you right now. 

“Eddie I can't stay. I don't have a toothbrush.” 

You say it jokingly, and he squeezes you. 

“It's fine, I've got like 20 of them from work.” 

“Thief.” 

“I prefer to think of it as resourceful.” 

Suddenly he pulls you on top of him making you squeal. 

“So you gonna stay?” 

“Yeah, fine I'll stay.” You try to say it in a mocking manner but your silly grin belies your rolling eyes. 

“Good.” 

Holding you close, Eddie breathes such a sigh of relief; a deep one, one that sounds like he's been holding in for some time. A sigh that makes you feel special. 

Permanent Taglist (couple of these are assumed, if you want off let me know! Same if you want to be added sweethearts)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[thewinter-eden]

Don't Look At Me Like That

images are mine (except middle HH pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 4 of the skz crack!horror series (this concludes the Hyung Line).

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you.

warnings: Terminal illness, smoking, asshole family, political family, angst, unrealistic trust fund, drugs, implications of overdose, implications of involuntary overdose, assault, discussion of surgery, depictions of cysts/tumors, USD instead of Korean Won, Gossip Girl reference, some language, kidnapping.

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

The first igniting drags of your cigarette feel like a second glass of wine. For a second, you’re lighter than air and the world tips on its axis.

Your family hates your penchant for cigarettes. They call you disgusting; unhygienic; stupid.

Although, In a way, your literal toxic trait has actually strengthened your personal hygiene—a rigorous unskippable skincare routine, to fight the weathering of your face, expensive and regular dental care to prevent the yellowing of teeth, your hands under a constant layer of hand sanitizer and scented perfume to combat the clinging stench of smoke, every surface of your bedroom cleaned daily and your laundry crisply pressed and regularly washed—just because you’re a shameless human chimney doesn’t mean you intend to wear the grime of cigarette smoke as an accessory.

Not that any of that matters anymore.

You take another drag and feel your body settle into the familiar rhythm. In front of you, on the other side of your glass cage (read: bedroom window) the city stretches out in front of you, lights poking holes in the blanket of darkness that covers it.

The clock reads 6 PM.

Lifting one hand, tapping a black-polished nail against the glass, watching your arm tremble, you give a resigned sigh and blow a puff of smoke through the opening. The plume rises and disperses into the atmosphere, vanishing before your eyes.

You finish your cigarette and crush the filter into your ash tray, yanking the curtains closed. The next few minutes are muscle memory—shrugging out of your robe, spritzing it with vodka to remove the smoke smell, exfoliating your hands and arms with a sugar scrub, brushing and whitening your teeth, covering yourself head to toe in moisturizer.

All for the sake of appearances.

When you close yourself into the bathroom to change half an hour later, all you smell is coffee from the sugar scrub and the sickly sweet aroma of your flowery lotion.

“You’re coming, right?” Your best friend Lisa’s voice booms through the phone, the sound of pounding music and raucous laughter filling the background.

You’re already dressed, brushing excess highlighter and powder off your face as you stand before your mirror. “Of course I’m coming, I promised you I would. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” You take a second to check your watch.

Lisa had made plans with you to meet at the party at 8, but she always arrives early enough to be four or five drinks ahead by the time you show up. This inevitably leads to her finding someone to spend an hour in the closest lockable room with and you calling your dad’s driver to take you home.

It’s not that you don’t ever want a hook up or a boyfriend or anything, it’s just that you’re the seventeen-year-old daughter of a politician and you have rules.

You can’t be out after 11, you can’t be seen with mile-deep cleavage or thigh-high hems, and you certainly can’t be drunk in public—especially as a minor. So you smooth the fabric of the just barely appropriate outfit you’ve chosen and check your reflection one last time.

It takes a second to convince yourself that the heaviness of your eyes isn’t because of your dark liner, that the dullness in your expression isn’t obvious.

“Well hurry on over. I’ve found someone you just have to meet.”

When you arrive, you’re wading through a house that’s teeming with high schoolers, the walls reverberating with pounding music. You find Lisa near the kitchen, one arm slung around the neck of one of her friends, the other hand clutching a plastic cup.

When her eyes land on you, she all but screeches your name over the clamor and reaches for you. The girl that she was just leaning on takes the opportunity to pull away and stretch her arms upward, trying to correct the awkward hunch that Lisa had put her in. She shoots you a grateful smile and disappears into the crowd, looking for her boyfriend.

Lisa’s in your face in the next second, her breath already reeking. She catches you in a tight, sloppy hug, the contents of her cup splashing your shoulder as she trips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” She says, and if her body language says drunk, her voice certainly doesn’t. Her lipstick is smeared and she’s staggering a little but her voice is crisp and sharp. “I was worried you’d change your mind again.”

She runs a hand up the back of your neck and playfully squeezes the knot of your hair that you’ve taken the time to elegantly pin.

It’s a ritual at this point.

You have the worst habits—smoking and drinking and slipping your curfew after everyone’s asleep—but you don’t go anywhere without a Princess Grace-like appearance. Because it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re not shitfaced on the front page the next morning. Even if you’ve snuck out at night to meet a boyfriend, when the cameras catch you on the streets you’re perfectly coiffed and sleekly styled.

Even now, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a high school party so much as a cocktail one, but Lisa tells you it makes you look more like Blair Waldorf than the homeschooler you’re always worried you emulate.

You push her hand out of your hair and check to make sure the pins haven’t come out. “Did you get me one of those?” You nod towards the cup in her hand and her eyes light up.

She nods towards the kitchen. “I got you, babe, come with me.”

You follow her, one hand reaching for her hip to steady her when she falls off one of her high heels, and then you’re in the kitchen and the noise of the party is muffled behind the heavy swinging door.

There’s one other person in the room with you, a tall, slender guy near the sink, shoulders hunched slightly as he gazes out the window. You’re still trailing after Lisa, but your eyes are taking in the long black hair that the guy has pulled back in a half pony, the slim-cut jacket with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the ripped jeans that cinch at his small waist and hang loosely around his legs.

When the two of you enter, his head turns, and you see the sharpness of his jaw, the definition of his features. There’s a flutter in your chest when his dark eyes land on you, and you whip your head away, crowding yourself behind Lisa.

She’s crushing something with a spoon, dumping it in the cup she’s just poured for you. Then she spins on one heel—surprisingly stable as she does—and passes it to you. “Here.”

You stare at the powder floating on top, and then back at her. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing heavy.” She assures you, and knocks back a couple of the tablets herself. “Just something to take the edge off. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t matter anyway.

You drink, sucking in the yeasty beer with fervor, trying your hardest not to taste it as it goes down. Before you can finish the cup, Lisa catches your arm and turns you towards the man at the window. She introduces you without giving you a chance to question her, and tells you his name is Hyunjin—the guy she wanted you to meet.

He turns to you fully, eyes tracing you head to toe. There’s a gentle smile on his full lips as he notices the blush that rushes to your face. “Nice to meet you,” He says kindly. “I think I’ve seen you on TV.”

As the words reach your ears, you feel yourself growing more guarded despite the opposite effects of the alcohol. You’re used to being recognized, you’re used to being used for your dad’s fame and fortune. You’ve been burned before, and you have no intention of using this time to be manipulated again.

So you pull yourself up into a respectful posture and prepare to treat him like the occasional politically-conscious “fan” who asks you to take a picture. It doesn’t happen often, but you do tend to be popular amongst the poli-sci students at the local college.

“He’s a senior.” Lisa says, and gives you a nudge towards him. “He’s going to study art.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, and you look over Hyunjin again. At second glance, he does look the type. He’s effortlessly fashionable, quiet, reserved—at least on first impression. You extend your hand politely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you a practitioner or a history buff?”

At your strictly professional tone, Hyunjin laughs under his breath and steps in to take your hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “A little of both, I suppose. I sketch and paint. Lisa tells me you’re quite the watercolorist?”

You blush a little at the recognition of your most intimate hobby. “I play around with it a little, but it’s just for fun.” When you notice he’s still grasping your palm, you gently pull your hand back.

Lisa grips your arm again, and leans in so close that you can smell the cologne of the last boy she had her hands on. “Why don’t you two hang out a little? You’re both the same about parties, so I figured you’d get along. Cool? I’m going to go find Mingyu.”

There’s nothing you can say to make her stay, even if you could think of the words to try. So you just watch her disappear, the noise of the party warbling strangely as the door swings back and forth behind her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes snap back to Hyunjin. “What?”

“When I said I’d seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” You pull another long sip from your drink and wince. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re standing like you’re at a press conference.” His eyes are alive with mirth as he watches you subtly try to shuffle your posture, brows lowering.

You’re coming back to yourself, your body acclimatizing to the atmosphere and whatever it was that Lisa put in your drink, your nerves no longer responding to every little glance that Hyunjin gives you. So you just shrug a shoulder and search the kitchen for your drink of choice. “I’m not uncomfortable as long as you’re not interested in some kind of fifteen minutes of fame bullshit.”

There it is.

You drain your beer as Hyunjin chuckles behind you and rinse your cup of the vile liquid, instead filling it with about four ounces of whiskey from a glass cabinet.

Hyunjin watches your movements with an eyebrow cocked. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to be a party favor.”

You nurse the drink slowly, settling into the comfort of the initial burn. “You gonna tell on me?”

He examines you again, shaking his head. “Not if you pour me one.”

You do, and then settle back against the counter. “Why come to a party if you’re going to hide in the kitchen?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Kinda surprised your dad lets you come to something like this.”

You used to be, too. Now you just huff. “As long as I’m not a scandalous headline tomorrow, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. And I don’t usually hide in the kitchen.” It’s true, you don’t. There’s a handful of people out there that you like to talk to, a couple of them you even like to dance with if the occasion calls for it, but right now you’re not itching to leave where you’re at.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you, and he glances towards the door. “Then why—”

“Because I’m talking to you.” The confidence comes with the whiskey. The taste of it in the back of your throat distracts you from the blush you would ordinarily be fighting if you had said those words soberly to someone as attractive as Hyunjin, and right now you’re just enjoying the way his eyes crinkle and the sweet smile explodes across his face.

It’s cute.

He’s cute.

He shuffles his feet beneath him for a second, the air between you comfortable as he lets the effects of your statement fade. When the flustered state is mostly gone from his face, he glances up at you again, almost shyly. “You’re really pretty.” And then, feeling the weight of his own words as they drop off his tongue, his eyes widen and he hastens to soften their impact. “I like your earrings.”

But you just smile, watching the pink in his cheeks as he swallows a regrettably large gulp of whiskey.

“You’re really pretty, too.” You say, and his head snaps around to you.

For a long second, he just stares at you.

It’s not often that you find yourself talking to someone you want to open yourself up to, someone you like to see so flustered, but he’s so completely enchanting that you can’t take your eyes off him and you don’t want to stop saying things that make him look at you like that.

There are only so many things that you can enjoy in a life like yours, and you want to enjoy this.

Hyunjin pours you both another drink.

You’re grateful, especially because there’s a nagging part of you telling you to go outside and smoke a cigarette, so instead you bring your cup to your lips and sip. You move to reach for a bottle of lemon juice and it puts you right next to him, feeling the radiating warmth of his side as you mix your drink into a whiskey sour.

He doesn’t move away.

Out of the corner of your eyes you catch the faintest tremble of his hand, and a smirk curves your lips.

His eyes are on you as you pinch a sprinkle of sugar into the drink and then suck the granules off your thumb.

You turn slightly, so close that you don’t even have to reach to offer him your drink. “Want to try?”

His eyes flick from yours, to the drink, and back to your face. Hyunjin’s tongue appears to swipe across his lower lip, and then he nods, taking the cup from you.

You thoroughly enjoy the swirling in your stomach when his fingers brush yours.

He drinks from your cup, face scrunching slightly as he takes in the taste of it.

At the crumpling of his eyebrows, you frown, suddenly interrupted from the sense of control you feel. “You don’t like it?”

Hyunjin lowers the cup from his lips with a look of surprise, shaking his head. “I love it.” He holds it out to you. “Would you show me how you made it?”

It’s not a complicated drink, the whiskey sour.

You find yourself smirking again, and push the cup back towards him. “Keep it. I’ll make myself another one.” And you take his whiskey from him, turning to fix yourself another drink. When he just stands there, mentally processing how he somehow ended up trading drinks with you, you know you have him.

So when he edges closer, the heat of his body flooding into your skin, you’re not surprised. You keep your hands moving, your eyes on your drink, pretending you don’t notice the way he’s suddenly leaning into your side.

“You smell good,” He says lowly, and your heart does a flip.

But you play it off casually, focused on getting the lid off the lemon juice bottle. “You like it? I’m not so sure yet.”

It’s gotta be the oldest trick in the book, but he takes the opportunity like it’s a written permission slip and then his face is at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the whisper of his breath on your skin.

“I like it,” He murmurs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place his cup on the counter next to you, and then both of his hands settle on your arms. His touch is light, gentle, his thumbs smoothing questioning strokes against your sleeves, asking permission.

When you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, it’s a yes.

His lips are on your shoulder then, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arms.

Your entire body heats up.

He’s leaning into you, trailing his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, then slowly up your throat until your head is edging back, leaning against his shoulder, giving him access. Hyunjin’s hand slides up one arm, cupping the curve of your neck as he litters wet kisses across your jaw, and his other hand reaches around to cover both of yours where you realize that at some point you abandoned your efforts to make a drink.

He turns you around and you let him, throwing your head back as his mouth leaves a glistening trail across your collarbones and up your throat, moving up to suck gently at the point of your jaw beneath your ear. “I really do like your earrings.” He whispers, and you feel him flick the dangling gemstone with his tongue.

You’re trembling under his hands, and you wish you could say it’s from his highly effective ministrations, but you know it’s not. You peel your eyes open, all but panting as his arm circles your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead drops against yours, and you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“Can we move this somewhere more private?” He whispers, and then he’s sucking at your jaw on the other side, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips.

You can’t help a laugh. “More private than the closed kitchen where it’s just us?”

“Please?” He whimpers against your throat.

You have absolutely no reason to protest. You’re nodding, aching, allowing him to push you towards the kitchen door, because this could be it. This could be your last. He’s every fantasy you’ve ever had, the absolute embodiment of beauty and seduction, and even one night with him could be everything.

What do you have to lose?

You stand to lose more by turning him down at this point.

So when his hands guide you through the living room, your ears barraged by music and laughter, your eyes assaulted by the flashes of too much skin and way too much pda, you just lean into his touch around your waist and let him find a room to duck into.

That’s how you find yourself pushed onto your back on someone’s bed, your heart in your ears as Hyunjin straddles you, his face returning to its spot against your throat, kissing his way towards your collar.

You feel his hands trail up your sides, his thumbs sweeping at the swell of your breasts, and for a second, you panic.

You’re not sure what he’ll think of you, how he’ll react to you when he finally gets his hands on you, but you can’t even worry about it for long because he’s nipping at your throat, his hands dragging your arms above your head.

Breathing in gasps, heart hammering as he laces the fingers of one hand through both of yours, trapping your hands above your head, you arch yourself into him as his free hand comes back towards his hip.

“You really are very pretty,” Hyunjin breathes into your ear, and then he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I just want you to know that.” Still holding your hands, he settles his weight back on your hips and pulls something out of his pocket.

You frown at him, chest heaving with breathlessness, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin brings his free hand back into view, now holding something cylindrical. Bringing the end of it to his mouth, prying off a plastic cap with his teeth, you can see the object as it catches the light.

A hypodermic needle, filled with something.

He spits the cap out of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in concentration. “Don’t move, angel, this doesn’t have to hurt.”

But you’re not moving, you’re just staring at the needle, trying desperately to make sense of the complete shift in atmosphere. You’re no longer trapped in a lovers’ embrace, you’re trapped. He has your hands immobilized, your lower body caught beneath his own, completely vulnerable.

He arches his body, reaching to slip the needle into a vein in your arm, and you understand.

You understand.

A deep sigh rushes out of your lungs.

You thought you’d have more time, but at this point, what does it matter?

Just before the needle pricks your flesh, Hyunjin seems to realize that you’re not fighting him at all. His eyes flick down to you, and he finds you blinking solemnly at his shoulder, not a single emotion on your face.

He pauses.

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath, and let it out.

There’s no fear, no more surprise, no apprehension.

Just exhaustion; resignation.

It doesn’t matter. He leans in towards your arm again, angling the needle to prod your vein. You don’t even flinch as it pricks your skin, sliding into your flesh. His thumb hovers over the plunger, but doesn’t press.

He’s never had a mark just lay there.

They’ve never just…accepted it.

He glances at your face again. “Angel…do you know what’s happening right now?” You had only had a few drinks, and the flush of your face could be from the drugs or the drink or his lips on your throat, but surely you should be a little concerned by the sheer volume of what he’s about to push into your bloodstream.

“I know,” You respond flatly. “He shouldn’t have bothered, honestly, but it’s not like he knew.”

Hyunjin’s brain stutters with confusion. “He?”

“My father,” You say, and your eyes meet his. “He wasted his money, hiring you to kill me.”

Huh.

That’s not at all how he expected this to go.

“I guess he’s paying Lisa, too, since she started with the pills.” It stings, knowing your best friend would accept cash to kill you, but you also know that your father wouldn’t have offered an insignificant sum.

Whatever he’s paying Lisa will set her up for life.

“So they’ll find me, tonight or tomorrow, just another stupid teenager who tried to have too much fun, and the two of you are just the dumb high school friends to corroborate that it was just an accident. Right?”

You don’t cry, you don’t fight, you don’t yell.

He stares at you, shocked. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You don’t seem apprehensive about killing a girl for money.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “It’s my job.”

“So you don’t go to this high school, then.” You mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t go to any high school.” Then he catches your gaze again. “But it really is my job. It’s not like it’s personal.”

You take a second, absorbing the reality of what’s happening to you. It’s over.

It’s over.

This is it.

Forget three months.

It’s over now.

You weren’t prepared for this timeframe, but you are prepared. You have coped.

It’s not a new idea.

So you just nod. “Okay.”

It’s like he starts to lean to finish the job, and then pulls himself back. “Why did you say he shouldn’t have bothered?”

You laugh then, a loud, inelegant burst of laughter, almost directly into his chest.

He’s startled, eyes wide, leaning back on your hips to stare down at you. “Angel, I’m literally about to kill you, why the hell are you laughing? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”

And you’re not.

The sheer adrenaline of his lips on your skin burned through that alcohol what seems like hours ago, and now you’re just sinking into oblivion, still laughing.

Finally, tears of irony in your eyes, you wheeze up at him. “Go ahead and finish it, Hyunjin, or whoever you are. It doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m alright. Finish it.” You nod upwards, towards the direction of your joined hands, and wish that the scent of his skin wasn’t still making your head swim.

It’s really not the time to be attracted to the assassin whom your father hired to murder you.

But he’s stuck, indecisive.

Because you’re laying underneath him, sniffling past a rush of humor—of all things—completely unconcerned and telling him that you’re alright with him killing you. That you’re alright with him subjecting you to a drug overdose that’s going to be painful and terrifying and the end of your life.

At this point, you seem to be more alright with it than he is.

And then you’re smiling at him. “Thanks for being nice about it.”

His heart lurches. “What the hell.” He yanks the needle out of your skin, releases your hands, and sits back on your hips again, eyes wide and unbelieving. “I mean—what the hell? What is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes. “He must not be paying you much if you’re willing to back out just because I’m pitiful.”

Which isn’t true, he’s supposed to be paid quite a lot for this job, but he just can’t comprehend how you’re reacting.

“Why shouldn’t he have bothered?”

You’re no longer trapped except for the way he’s straddling your hips, so now you’re just laying against an uncomfortable pair of pillows, feeling the pins of your updo poking into your neck. If he’s supposed to kill you, why won’t he just do it? You search his eyes, finding only confusion and concern.

Sighing, you reach for his hand—the empty one that used to be holding both of yours against the headboard.

Oh, how you expected a very different outcome from this situation.

He flinches as he suddenly finds you bringing his hand towards your chest, jerking it back when you lay his palm over your breast.

It’s almost comical the way his face heats up.

Clearly, his earlier show of attraction towards you had been aided by a hurriedly consumed volume of alcohol and a professionally put-on flustered attitude, but now, when you made him touch you, he seems genuinely awkward.

And, for your side of things, you were going to let him feel you up anyway, so what’s the difference now?

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you for anything, just give me your hand.”

He doesn’t protest when you catch his hand again, his cheeks flushed pink, until you drag his fingers across the slope of your breast and they trip over a lump of flesh that’s hard as a rock. The flustered color drains from his face, and then he’s frowning, leaning in, moving of his own accord to swipe his fingers over the place once more, as though he wasn’t sure he felt it the first time.

You let him.

When he pulls his hand back into his lap and stares at you, you just smile. “Did you know, in the early days of breast cancer surgery, a woman went in to have a lump removed, and when she came out of anesthesia, she was missing an entire breast, some ribs, and like half of the muscle wall of her chest? And the fuckass doctors were like “we got it!” Like, you don’t burn down the house in order to kill a spider and then say, “Don’t worry, we got it!””

Hyunjin blinks at you, mentally parsing your unexpected rambling. “They’ve, uh…come a long way in terms of cancer surgeries, I think.”

A puff of breath escapes your lips, another sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that. It’s in my bones, my lymphatic, everywhere. I got to it too late.” You roll your eyes and press a palm to your forehead. “So, yeah, he shouldn’t have bothered. Three months and I would have been out of his hair for free.”

A few seconds pass as you process the words you haven’t yet admitted out loud to anyone, as he processes what you’re telling him.

He’s trying to kill a girl who’s already dying.

No wonder she didn’t care.

“So, how much is he paying you?” You question lightly, eyes searching for the syringe. You assume he’ll finish the job—everybody has to pay the rent, and it’s not like you’ve got your life ahead of you anyway.

Hyunjin scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Three million.”

You outright scoff at that, shocking him once again. “He’s ripping you off, dude. Did he tell you why he hired you?”

“I don’t ask. I am a professional, you know.” He brings his hand to his chest like he’s offended, and allows the slightest smile to twist his lips when you roll your eyes again.

You wedge your hands under you. “Can I sit up? I need to smoke and you’re killing my back.” You wiggle your hips and try to scoot yourself back. As he lifts his own hips off of you, you raise an eyebrow. “Not that I mind.”

At that, he flushes again.

Laughing softly, you pull yourself up to sit against the headboard, dragging your knees to your chest, and watch as he sits himself in front of you, cross-legged. For the time that it takes you to slide a cigarette from your purse and light it between your lips, he’s silent, watching you.

The syringe is at his side, laying between the wrinkles in the blanket, forgotten.

“My trust fund defaults back to him if I die before I hit eighteen.” You inform him. “And it’s 25 million dollars.”

His mouth falls open. “Why the hell is your trust fund so much money?”

“When my mom was dying, my father promised her he would help her allot her estate into a trust fund for me, plus a hefty sum from his own assets as a romantic gesture. For all his faults, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved her.” You scoff, sucking in a comforting drag of smoke. You’re careful to blow it away from him, to knock your ashes into the ring tray on the bedside table instead of allowing them to fall into the carpet. “But that was fifteen years ago, and I guess he forgot that he loved her once.”

“So he wants your trust fund.” Hyunjin says, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm. “Because he forgot he loves you too?”

Your lips pinch. “I’m just a reminder of when he used to be a better man.”

Silence ticks between you, and the smell of your cigarette permeates the air. You can’t care enough to apologize to him for your filthy habit, because if it’s the last cigarette you’re ever going to have, you might as well enjoy it.

But he doesn’t seem put off by it, instead wrapping his hands around your ankles and pulling your feet into the criss-cross of his legs so he can scoot closer to you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You’re surprised, but not displeased with the gentle embrace of your legs.

“I don’t want to kill you, angel,” He says, and rests his chin on your knees.

It’s too much, the doe-eyed boy staring at you through the dim light, holding you close to him and running his hands up and down your thighs, fingers sweeping low enough to run across your hips.

You can’t look at him.

Turning your eyes away, you knock the ash off the end of your cigarette and laugh. “That’s so kind, thanks.” You drop the rest of the butt into the tray and brush your hands together. “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s get you paid.” You scoop up the syringe and hold it out to him, eyes wide and inviting.

He takes it from you, but he doesn’t take your arm again.

In the quiet of his indecision, you can’t help yourself. Your fingers find the soft swoop of his hair falling over his forehead, letting a few strands slide through your fingers before you pull yourself together and extend your arm to him. “Do it, Hyunjin.” You say softly, ignoring the way your movements made him look at you. “If you don’t do it, he’ll hire someone else. His campaign isn’t doing well, he’s facing asset forfeiture—he needs the money. If you don’t kill me, someone else will.”

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours, his fingertips smoothing up the underside of your forearm towards that vein that he found earlier. A drop of blood has gathered where he pricked you, the trail where it dripped dry and crusted.

You’re not scared, you’re not worried.

You’re a little relieved, actually, that you don’t have to pretend anymore. Because you’ve known for months that your time is running out. You’ve known for months that no one would care even if you told them.

The pounding of the music outside the door fills the space, reminding you that you were supposed to come in here to have the night of your life, and now, instead, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen is going to inject poison into your bloodstream and leave you to die on a stranger’s bed.

That does dishearten you a little bit.

He presses his thumb against the vein. His eyes flick up to yours. “When is your birthday?”

You cock your head curiously, wondering. “Next month.”

Hyunjin lets the vein go and sets the syringe down near his hip. “I’ll make you a deal.” He takes your other hand, too, peering into your face with sincerity. “If I keep you alive until your birthday, we split the trust fund, 70-30. Then at least you don’t let your dad win, and maybe you can see if there’s some super expensive doctor who can help you. Or something. What do you think?”

You blink. “You’re going to trade being an assassin for being a bodyguard just for eight million dollars?”

He smirks, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Seven and a half, actually. And it’s a better gig than killing a dying seventeen-year-old just so her asshole father can take her trust fund. So, what do you say?”

You’re almost a hundred percent sure there’s no doctor or surgeon in the world who can fix your cancer at this point. All the ones you’ve spoken to so far won’t even recommend radiation or chemo, because there’s no point. They keep saying things like “quality of life” and “keep you comfortable,” not, “if only you had more money.”

But it’s interesting, this deal he’s put forward.

Die tonight or spend a month with a gorgeous young assassin?

Is it even a choice?

“We split it 50-50.” You say. “All I want to do with my half is give it to cancer research.”

He’s surprised again, his mind now struggling to grasp an influx of almost thirteen million dollars, and he nods slowly. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

He’s already holding your hands, so you can’t exactly shake on it, but you nod with a shrug. “Deal.”

You’ve never seen a smile as sweet as the one he gives you after that. “Good. Get your coat, angel—you’re coming home with me.”

Eyebrows skyrocketing, you follow his movements as he bounds off the bed and scoops up your purse. “So you’re going to kidnap me instead of murdering me?”

He holds out a hand and waits for you to take it. “Are you arguing?”

You let him haul you off the bed and find yourself laughing as his arm circles your waist and he hurries you out of the room. “Not in the slightest.”

Comment a request to be tagged! Han's is next :)

PART 2 INFO

Let me know what you think!!

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[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam at the dentist HCs/incorrect quotes, please?? 🤲 I have a big surgery coming up and I'm terrified

Dick: What's up, doc?

Leslie: What are you doing?

Dick: Daffy Duck. I'm thinking of a new career as a voice actor.

Leslie: Okay but can you not do it with a mouthful of sharp objects?

———————

Cass: *brings a punch card and a knocked-out tooth*

Leslie, sighing: Here we go again.

Leslie: *stamps the card*

Leslie: Your next one is free.

———————

Leslie: *in the middle of the checkup*

Steph, getting up: Hang on, my Uber Eats is here.

Leslie: You ordered takeout to a dental appointment?

Steph: Efficiency.

———————

Leslie: You have a helmet. How did you still break your tooth?

Jason: *flashback to throwing his helmet at Dick, missing, and it bouncing back*

Jason: Enough with the questions, okay?

———————

Leslie: Ever consider braces?

Kate: I don't want any part of me to be straight.

———————

Leslie: Oh, you're early! Just check in with the receptionist and take a seat until I call you.

Bette: *goes up to the receptionist*

Bette: Checking in for Bette Kane.

The receptionist: Sorry, I don't have you down here.

Bette: Maybe try my full name? Mary Elizabeth Kane?

The receptionist: Still don't see you.

Bette: I should have an appointment for 2:00 today.

The receptionist: *typing*

The receptionist: I see you now. The doctor's right, you are early. Your appointment is tomorrow.

———————

Selina: *using cat claws as a toothpick*

Leslie: This might be an issue.

———————

Leslie: Say "ahh."

Tim: *screams*

———————

Leslie: You're bleeding because you don't floss.

Harper, who came in after a mission: ...

———————

Leslie: —but I cannot stress this enough, it's important to wear a mouthguard for all contact sports. And some non-contact sports. And training. And patrol. And walking through Gotham. And whenever you're around the Waynes. Actually, I'm just gonna give you the box. Take your time. Pick whatever colors you want. If you need me, I'm gonna be in my office questioning my life choices.

Luke:

Luke: ...I just asked how her day was.

———————

Bruce: Are you sure there's no tooth fairy? Because the Justice League has state-of-the-art tracking system that can locate them. I really think we can form a contract to expand social programs for children.

Leslie: Just shut up and let me do my job.

———————

Leslie: Everything's looking good except for a few minor spots.

Barbara: Yeah, well, call me when they invent stainless coffee.

———————

Leslie: I recommend removing your wisdom teeth.

Alfred: But that's where I keep my wisdom.

———————

Leslie: I see you still have one last baby tooth. It should've come out by now.

Damian: Father said to keep it in.

Leslie: Why?

Damian: He wants me to stay a baby.

———————

Leslie: Cullen, you're next.

Cullen: *climbing out the skylight*

Leslie: Wow.

Leslie: That's actually impressive for a non-vigilante.

———————

Leslie: Hey, Helena. I thought you were off duty this week. How'd you knock a molar loose?

[earlier]

Students: *fighting in the hall*

Helena: Break it up! All of you go to the office! And delete that video!

[present]

Helena: I need a raise.

———————

Carrie: I don't get it. I brush twice a day AND floss. How do I still have cavities?

Leslie: What do you brush with?

Carrie: Toothpaste, obviously.

Leslie: And what do you floss with?

Carrie:

Leslie: Carrie...

Carrie: The British call it candy floss for a reason, don't they?

———————

Leslie: Well done today, Duke. Have a sticker.

Duke: Why are they all the Justice League?

Leslie: Funding comes with a catch.

Duke:

Duke: *picks the Flash*

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

This is Jinx: my brother found her after she was abandoned at a local park, but he scooped her up and brought her home; she has a neurological disorder that impairs her ability to walk properly, and thanks to a birth defect, she doesn't have any teeth

In addition to the neurological disorder and the dental defect, Jinx also has some minor deformities in one of her eyes, her tail is kinked, she's a runt, and she apparently had a botched spay procedure at some point in her life. She's mostly just heart-stoppingly adorable, though.

Here is a video of her trying to be ferocious:

My brother brought her home about three years ago, after he found her sitting in the parking lot of a local park. When he first approached her, she tried to run away, but she immediately fell over and then struggled to get back up again. My brother just assumed that she was injured, so he scooped her up and carried her back home.

When we took her to the vet, we learned that she wasn't injured, but that her balance issues are likely the result of a disorder known as cerebellar hypoplasia (CH), which is sometimes referred to as "wobbly cat syndrome." It's a developmental disorder in which the cerebellum (the part of the brain that controls movement and balance) fails to develop properly in utero. The disorder affects her ability to stand, walk, jump, etc.

Cats with CH can have mild, moderate, or severe disabilities, but Jinx's impairments are on the mild/moderate side of that scale -- she can walk, but she is very uncoordinated, and she frequently staggers, sways, or tips over, especially when she's startled or in distress. She then has a lot of trouble regaining control of her limbs and getting back up again, which sort of makes her look like a "fainting goat." It's hard for her to keep her head steady, so she repeatedly "bops" her nose against anything that she's trying to sniff or eat.

The bobbing motion means that she is a very messy eater, and that issue is made even worse by the fact that she doesn't have any teeth and she generally forgets to close her mouth. Her toothlessness is the result of another congenital defect known as oligodontia, meaning that her teeth failed to develop, aside from a couple of tiny, mishapen "toothlets" near the front of her mouth.

She also seems to have had a botched spay procedure at some point, because there's evidence that another vet attempted to spay her (and she has the scar to prove it) but she still goes into heat at erratic intervals, and it seems to cause her much more distress than you'd normally see in a healthy cat. Our veterinarian suspects that the person who performed her surgery accidentally left behind some of the ovarian tissue, thereby wreaking havoc on her hormones.

Given the circumstances, we're pretty sure that someone deliberately abandoned her. The lot in which she was found is located in the middle of a very large park, and it's surrounded by several acres of pine forest, densely packed thickets, thorns, tall grass, and muddy terrain. Given her mobility issues, there's no way that she could have traversed all of those obstacles on her own, especially not without getting at least a little bit disheveled and dirty, but her fur was still clean and well-groomed when we found her...which means that someone must have driven her there and then left.

She's an absolute sweetheart, though. She has some peculiar habits, but she is still incredibly affectionate. She literally comes running to greet me every time I open my bedroom door, and she does the same thing with my brother.

She always sleeps next to my Dad at night, too, and as soon as he goes to bed, she follows him in and says "goodnight" to him by snuggling up to his neck, kneading his shoulder, and kissing his face (tho her kisses are kind of messy, because the toothlessness means that she drools a lot and almost always leaves her mouth hanging open).

Edit: Jinx was diagnosed with CH, but there's a possibility that her symptoms are the result of a congenital vestibular dysfunction instead, because both disorders are known to cause issues with balance, movement, and posture, but she has some symptoms that are more closely associated with CH, and others that are more closely associated with vestibular disorders. CH is still the likelier culprit, tho.

[antlershade]

suffered a minor but very painful dental injury last night- since its related to a semi-botched wisdom tooth surgery years ago i will need to eat only soft foods for a few days. but i'm broke after rent, so i will need a little bit of help to get soft foods and pain medicine.

[san-marzano]

birthday month sale!!

hey guys, i’m doing a little bday month sale :) i’m trying to afford school for my brother and myself along with housing, food, utilities and a minor dental surgery, and unfortunately i am not able to pay for all of these things with the money i have right now. i’d be really grateful if you’d help to support me!!

i do(for ych):

oc x oc

oc x canon

canon x canon

client x partner

yume ships/self ships

friends/queerplatonic

straight passing/ally

furry/mech

suggestive(18+ only!)

while the ych was meant for pride, the flags can be removed/changed!!

i do(for non ych):

ships listed above

ocs

canon characters

furry/mech

redesign

pfp

nsfw(18+ only!)

if there’s something not on here you want drawn, just let me know!!

extra fees:

extra details (think hoyoverse/genshin character level of detail) - +$5

scenic background - +$3

if you do not want to pay for the extra details you must be okay with the design being simplified!!

methods of payment:

v3nm0

p@yp@l

kofi

c@sh@pp

tat will depend on how soon you place a commission. i am taking the time to work on previous commissions and other personal work, so i may not start working on yours until after the first week of august. send me a dm if you have any questions or are interested!!

[ladyimaginarium]

fellas. canadian fellas. canadian folx. canada. y'all better fucking vote for the ndp in october 2025. we're not like in america where there's only two major parties & a few minority parties, there's more than two major political parties to choose from ! the ndp specifically are fighting for all of these things:

like. idk about y'all but all of this seems a lot better than what we have rn. if you give a fuck about indigenous peoples, if you give a fuck about black people, if you give a fuck about asian people, if you give a fuck about people of color & racialized people, if you give a fuck about human rights, if you give a fuck about queer rights, if you give a fuck about two spirit rights, if you give a fuck about trans rights (ALL trans rights, they've called for specific care approaches for trans girls & trans women, trans boys & trans men & for nonbinary people too!), if you give a fuck about intersex rights (they support the ban of intersex genital mutilation until intersex children are old enough to consent if they want cosmetic surgery or not & have spoken about intersex issues!), if you give a fuck about women's rights, if you give a fuck about reproductive rights, if you give a fuck about feminism, if you give a fuck about intersectionality, if you give a fuck about religious freedom, if you give a fuck about multiculturalism, if you give a fuck about workers' rights, if you give a fuck about farmers, if you give a fuck about sex workers' rights (they support the decriminalization of sex work & stigma of sex work!), if you give a fuck about addicts (they support decriminalization of drugs & stigma of drug addiction!), if you give a fuck about the poor & the homeless, if you give a fuck about people with HIV/AIDS, if you give a fuck about disabled & neurodivergent people, if you give a fuck about autistic people, if you give a fuck about the environment & the earth sea & sky, if you give a fuck about palestine (they support the statehood of palestine & have been actively been calling out antipalestinian racism & have been calling the government to stop sending & selling weapons to the israeli government & have called for a ceasefire!), if you give a fuck about lebanon, if you give a fuck about sudan & congo (they actively support the sudanese & congolese people!), if you give a fuck about armenia, if you give a fuck about ukraine, if you give a fuck about jewish lives (they adamantly are against antisemitism & have spoken out about protecting jewish people & bringing the israeli hostages home to their families!), if you give a fuck about arab & muslim lives (they have actively spoken out against antiarab racism & islamophobia!), if you give a fuck about international peace, if you give a fuck about immigrants, refugees & asylum seekers, if you give a fuck about prisoner's rights, if you give a fuck about people living in rural & remote & reservation & northern communities, if you give a fuck about free universal healthcare, if you give a fuck about free mental healthcare, if you give a fuck about free eye & free hearing care & free dental care & infertility procedures & prescription drugs, if you give a fuck about food sovereignty, if you give a fuck about antiterrorism & antiextremism & deradicalization, if you give a fuck about the demilitarization of the police & using alternative methods like social workers & psychologists, if you give a fuck about taxing the ultra rich & billionaires & polluters, if you give a fuck about renewable energy, if you give a fuck about affordable childcare & housing & abolishing the poverty line, if you give a fuck about affordable post-secondary education & affordable quality internet & cellphone service & transportation all across the country, if you give a fuck about affordable groceries so everyone can feed their families, if you give a fuck about healthy food in every community, if you give a fuck about your children, if you give a fuck about the elders in your community, you'll vote for these guys. & on TOP of that? the leader of the ndp, jagmeet singh, is a son of immigrants & an indian punjabi man of color & a SIKH, he's not some privileged ass white guy, he's been on the ground himself as an activist & has actively been fighting for all these rights with quite literally everything i've seen so far. noncanadians are also encouraged to reblog too!

[lifewithchronicpain]

I have been watching the Curious Case of Natalia Grace, mainly for the second season where Natalia actually gets to speak for herself. It is so beyond upsetting, do not watch unless you're ready to rage.

There is a Lot to the story but I will sum it up as best I can. Natalia is a Ukrainian orphan with dwarfism, specifically Spondyloepiphyseal dysplasia congenita. Because of her disability she would need many surgeries for her feet, and money concerns related to this is considered one potential cause for what was to happen. After being passed around, a family called the Barnett's adopted her.

According them, Natalia was really an adult that was secretly trying to kill them. If it sounds familiar it's because it's the plot of the movie Orphan. This poor girl wound up with an incredibly abusive family that eventually decided they didn't want her but because the mother was so concerned with her image, she couldn't be seen as getting rid of a disabled child. So she tried to pass Natalia off as an adult pretending to be kid, and after lies and faked drama the Barnett's actually got Natalia legally re-aged to 22.

Natalia was actually about 8 years old. Dental records, DNA tests, doctor's records, her own biological mother, who gave her up because she couldn't care for a disabled child, all say she was born in 2003 and was a child at the time of these events.

So Natalia was put in an apt at age 8, and Mrs Barnett forced her to tell people she was 22. Ableism and ignorance of little people plays a huge part here, otherwise no one would have believed her age was 22 nor would it have been legally changed. Even though neighbors thought she was young, they went with the lie and proceeded to view entirely childish behavior as weird and annoying. Because she lacked the fucking boundaries and sense of stranger danger of a typical 8 year old!!!!! They also said she said a lot of sexually stuff, and I don't know why I should need to explain to you what 8 year olds do when they hear things!!! An 8 year old with no adult, looking to anyone for company and just help. It's beyond upsetting to think of what it must have been like for her during this time.

Natalia was evicted after a year and moved to another apartment. Not too long after being there she met a family that recognized she was a fucking child, took her in, and called the goddamn cops. First people in Natalia's poor life to do something for her. She is still with them to this day, with what looks like a beautiful loving family.

The Barnett's were charged, the husband was ables to get acquitted in part because the judge decided her Legal age would stand, and he could only be accused of abandoning a disabled person and not a minor. Meanwhile no one could let the jury know she was really a minor when this happened. Huge miscarriage of justice and the wife was never taken to trial.

It's a hard documentary to watch, especially when you get a lot of the Barnett's story first without much dissecting of the facts. But then you do get Natalia's side, and the Barnett's lies are laid to waste. One of them being that Natalia had pubic hair and a period. She never did, the wife made her say it to the husband. I mean, there's a lot of fucked up shit that happened to Natalia that I have not mentioned. I'm also not getting into the drama within the Barnett family except to say the husband tried to blame it all on the wife, claims he was abuse and avoids accountability, and is the most pathetic excuse for a human being, honestly. The wife is no better, she's just a monster.

The thing that pisses me off so much though are the attorneys, especially this one guy that Knows Natalia was a child and acts like she has to take accountability for being a troubled child. Of course he offers up all excuses for his client.

And that's the rub, Natalia had her childhood robbed from her, then and now. She's not ever granted the view of her behavior as mitigated by being a child. They even showed one of her neighbors refuses to accept she was 8 and not 22, and she knows for sure because she was hussy and just knows how to put on an act. It just amazes me how quick we are to jump to the most negative explanation for something and ignore any evidence to the contrary.

I'm just glad Natalia was able to have a voice in this drama, and that she finally has the family she had always wanted.

[spirngakawening]

Ruth Fleming wears headgear so I briefly researched ✨️Orthodontic Headgear✨️:

Used (in combination with braces) to correct jaw misalignment & dental crowding - helps avoid corrective jaw surgery later on

Basically comprised of a metal frame that's in some way attached to the teeth (metal/elastic to braces) and strapped to the head

There are a few different types of headgear:

cervical pull (for overbite/overjet)

reverse-pull (underbite/crossbite)

high-pull (open bite)

Ruth's looks like the reverse-pull type without a chin cup... I didn't find any images of real faceframes that exactly matched Ruth's tho

Must be worn for at least 12 hours daily - the more you wear it, the more effective, & skipping a day undoes progress

Can't be worn while eating - Ruth may remove her headgear to eat, not eat at school, or drink her lunch through a straw

Can't be worn during any activity that could involve impact to the face - Ruth may be exempt from gym lessons

Wearing overnight is encouraged

Maintenance

Headgear adjustments call for pain medication & soft foods

Hard parts are washed daily, soft pads/straps washed every few days - must dry before wearing again

Correction can take 1-2 years, sometimes longer

Usually people start wearing headgear as preteens, so Ruth either started later or has been wearing it for longer than usual

Adults usually wear headgear for minor misalignment correction or after an accident that affected the teeth/jaw (eg lost some teeth & is prepping for dental implants/dentures)

It's not impossible that Ruth needs headgear because Max wrecked her jaw/teeth

And/or Max may have extended Ruth's time in headgear by hitting her in the face while she was wearing it

[qadoshqadoshqadosh]

you shouldn’t make a kink out of hypnosis it’s actually really serious and could be used as a promising alternative to anesthesia for some minority of people in dental surgery scenarios. but only a really small number of people, larger however than the number of people who are society-detrimentally and critically dependent on a latex cowboy puppet. so we can see why it’s so much more appropriate to make a kink out of this one.

[foxgirltail]

And the worst part of all of this is that, for all intents and purposes I'm perfectly fine!

I'm living with my gf and her cat and it's lovely! My job is remote, accommodating, not too crushing, theoretically useful, and pays the bills! I'm on hrt and am finally out to my immediate family! I am in a semi-regular (albeit long-distance) ttrpg with friends! I started Adderall and that's made multiple things (especially work) in my life easier! I'm (theoretically) working on a videogame with some friends! I'm eating much better than I was last year!

And yet my anxiety is worse than it almost ever has been and my depression also seems to be getting worse. I don't feel like a person most of the time.

My main (conscious & regular) concerns at this point are:

I wish I had more local friends.

I wish my gf could find a job that paid better, treated her better, and wouldn't destroy her body.

I sorta wish I could get transferred to another department at my work so I was actually working in my field, rather than being just tangentially adjacent

I'm a little concerned that my body is falling apart, which plays into my next point:

I wish I was more internally motivated and could do more of the things that I want to do or feel like I should be doing. I want to care for my exterior more consistently (eg showers and hair and dental care). I want to keep our living space cleaner. I want to start exercising, and particularly strengthen up muscles around my knees, wrists, and lower back. I want to start streaming again, even if I know nobody will tune in. I want to code stuff for my own projects. I want to do art in various forms, usually drawing but crossstitch is also alluring. I want to read. But I can't get myself to do any of these with any sort of regularity or anything approaching what someone would call "a habit" or "a schedule" and I don't know how to get myself to that

I'm worried about the stupid shit the president is doing

I don't really like the way my body looks, and am hoping estrogen will help change that. I don't know how else I can make my body habitable if it (or bottom surgery) doesn't

And all this honestly (sans the president) seems more minor, fewer, or otherwise lesser than concerns I've had in the past. And maybe my misery now only feels worse because it's much further to fall from recent heights than it was in the past.

I was just starting to feel like I was real for a bit, and I want to go back to that