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miguelhugger2099 · 3 months

Note

miguel x reader where he never knew has back dermals. like one day theyre chilling in the kitchen and she goes to reach something high up and they start showing and it drives miguel crazyyyy he’s all “i never knew you had these carino” ughhh

Special Surprise

ngl i had to google back dermals 😭😭 but they're so cute omg i know miggys a slut for some piercings this is the shortest writing i've made yet so lmk if you'd like more

Miguel x Reader, Suggestive, Word Count: 677

After a tiring week of work, you and Miguel had both decided to unwind for a couple of drinks. He was on his fourth bottle–he downs them down like water–none of it taking effect until maybe his sixth or seventh drink. You settle for a bit of wine and a couple of sips from Miguel’s drinks that he offers. You sit in his lap, his arm around your waist while your arm wrapped around his shoulder. You twirl the red liquid in your glass cup as you chat quietly amongst yourselves, sharing kisses and sweet nothings to tease each other. After kissing his temple, you lifted yourself off of his lap with a grunt. “Okay, I think I want some juice now. Maybe some water. Want some?” You ask, turning your head over your shoulder to meet his eyes. Miguel shakes his head before taking another chug of his bottle. He shakes it around a bit, not hearing anything swish inside. “No, but I do want another one of these. Gracias, bella.” He leans over to place the empty glass next to his chair where his other finished ones stood. You hum and open up the cupboard to grab a regular cup for yourself, standing on your tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. “Dammit, Miguel. Did you place all the cups here to piss me off again?” You groan and stretch your arm up higher and higher.

Miguel chuckles and looks at you struggling. “No, I didn’t. I forgot how short you are when I washed the dishes earlier. My bad.” He was about to stand up when something caught his eye. Your shirt had ridden up with you as your arm stretched up. With it, showed the two silver dots on your lower back where your back dimples would be. The piercings glint in the low warm lighting of the kitchen and Miguel covers his mouth, rubbing his chin as he takes in the scene of you and your piercings. Miguel clears his throat, resisting his mind that had gone wild with desire. He blames the alcohol. “Mama, are those–did you get new piercings?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing when your shirt fell back over the cute dots. “Huh?” You turn your head over your shoulder after finally grabbing a cup and look where Miguel’s eyes were staring at. You lifted up your shirt from the back to see what he was talking about. “Oh. Oh, no. They’re like, uh, almost two years old?” You were unsure, looking up in thought to collect your memory. “Uh-huh…” He mumbles, barely paying attention and instead focusing once more on your piercings. Miguel stands up from his seat and walks over to you. You had just begun to open the door to the fridge.

His hands place themselves on your hips. You bend over slightly to reach one of the alcohol bottles from the bottom. Miguel’s pupils blow wide and he leans back to get a better view. “I never knew you had these, cariño.” He murmurs, using one hand to lift up the hem of your shirt. You stand back up and look back to see him staring shamelessly. You scoff a small laugh to yourself and lean back on his chest. Miguel nestles himself in your neck, kissing you softly while his thumbs graze the small silver piercings and slowly becomes obsessed. “They’re pretty hidden and only really look good in low-rise jeans.” You explain, reveling in the attention he’s giving you. Maybe he’s a little tipsy. You tap the cold drink to his head and he raises himself up. His hand leaves your hip to grab the bottle with a sly smirk. “Y cómo se ven estos cuando estás en cuatro patas? Igual de hermosa?” He teases, his lips brushing up against your ears and his voice deepens to a husky rumble. You feel your heart stutter and let out a chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment and desire brewing in your stomach. Guess he has tonight to find out.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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ghouljams · 8 months

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GOING MAD FOR PIERCER KÖNIG, PLEASE WRITE MORE THE WAY YOU RIGHT HIM IS SO YUMMY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I need another au like I need a hole in my head. For some perspective I have 26 couples I am writing for currently 😔 here's the actual piercer au, which I will probably never write.

Piercer!reader and Ghost

Ghost comes in every time he's on leave for something new. It's kind of weird how he will only get one thing at a time but he tips well and sits like a rock so whatever. He's told you a million times he has to keep everything regulation for the military so nothing that can be seen. No problem. You've done his tongue, his nipples, his belly button, even a dermal bar on the back of his neck, now you're working your way (slowly) through a Jacob's ladder piercing.

It's kind of cool seeing all the piercings come together and Ghost's deployments usually line up with healing times so you haven't had much cause to worry about your work. It is absolutely driving you crazy every time he drops his pants but you're fine, you're professional, you're not fucking this man in the studio. I think reader knows he wants to ask them out. The way he hesitates when he pays before forking over more than enough is kind of telling. But they're waiting on him to make a move because it's kind of hard to ask people out when you've put a needle through their dick.

Ghost meanwhile did not mean to get all this metal stuck in him. He saw you walking on the street one day, thought you were cute, and followed you into your shop with the intention of asking for your number. How was he supposed to know you'd tell him you had time for a piercing then and could take him as a walk in. Was he supposed to say no??? He figured he could ask after the piercing but then he had a needle through his tongue and there wasn't much talking after that.

Thankfully he heals up well during deployments, but he keeps coming back thinking this is going to be the time he asks you out but you're so damn chipper and professional he can't get a word in about it. He's got your number so you can make time for him when he's on leave, but every time he thinks about texting you for personal reasons it comes off sounding stupid so he just deletes the text. He's better in person, he swears he is better in person.

Obviously they get together, idk how. Maybe reader sends him a drunk text, maybe Ghost finally decides fuck it and asks reader out. Just goes to the shop without an appointment and tells them he's taking them out for lunch. Idk idk idk

I just need that man to have piercings, and I will not cave on that point. I want him to have enough that someone has said something and Price had to ask him if they were going to impede his work. I need Soap to stare at him in the shower and ask "is that new?" So that Ghost can tell him "eyes on your own work."

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #piercer au

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ioniansunsets · 6 months

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who in heartsteel would be willing to get matching piercings with reader 👉👈 and if so, where? 👁️👅👁️

[[Yes yes I have piercings I know licking them is bad but its sexy ok we close our eyes. Also I stopped writing NSFW like 10 years ago but this is tempting me to return..............deleted content in the comments.]]

✖ Heartsteel Matching Piercings ✖

Yone would get a tongue piercing with you. Sneaky smiles hidden under his cool collected exterior. Eyes narrowing, a smug smirk as he sticks his tongue out at you from across the room, the metal but a small teasing glimmer. No one else in Heartsteel knows about it. Just you. A very, interesting little secret between you two. In private Yone would also really like to delicately run his thumb across your lower lip, pulling it down just a little, voice low and soft as he asks you to stick out your tongue for him as he checks on how it is healing. Yone would then smile to himself as he looks at you and your matching piercing before pulling you in for a passionate kiss and enjoying the feeling of your piercing hitting his as your tongues intertwine.

Ezreal would get a naval piercing. He already has piercings all over his ears. But his tummy is sensitive and if you go with him. Run your hands up and down his abs. Ask nicely. Alright. He'll do it with you. A blush on his face as he gets a piercing with your colors while you get one with a green ball. He would pepper your tummy with little kisses, careful to avoid the freshly done piercing as his hands roam across your chest. Ezreal loves to see your exposed midriff as much as he likes showing off his to you, so the piercings were a nice way to add to that. When they heal? Ezreal is the kind to lick a trail up from the waist of your underwear to the piercing and lightly kiss it before giving you a smug laugh. He knows what he's doing.

Aphelios would get an eyebrow piercing over his right eye. Nothing too obvious. Only when you run your hands through his hair and lift up his bangs then you can see them. Two little metal balls neatly placed to mirror his eyebrow slit on the other brow. It's very cute. He is the kind to lovingly sneak soft kisses on your brow when you two were alone, so now with the piercings there, it kind of feels more special. Aphelios personally finding it nice to lightly run his fingers across the metal and gently touch them while he kisses you. Does he do it knowingly or unconsciously? You honestly still can't tell. The little trickster would also give you a knowing smirk as his runs His fingers through your hair, lightly tugging as he holds your hair up to inspect your piercings before he pulls you in for another kiss.

Sett would get an industrial on one ear and maybe a few helix piercings sprinkled in, however helix piercings work for his cute little ears. They would twitch expectantly as you gently help him care for it post piercing. Almost purring as you clean the piercings for him as your lightly rub and scratch the fur at the base as a treat. He would help you do the same, gently whispering how sexy you are with those piercings into your ears as his cleans them for you after a bath. Sett would also like lightly blowing hair out of the way, or carefully tucking your hair behind your ears as he admires the metal on your skin. After they heal? He is definitely the kind of guy to lick the edges of your ears, enjoying the cool metal of your piercings against his warm tongue.

K'Sante would get a dermal piercing on his collarbone. If you got one on the right his is on the left. It's nothing obvious and usually hidden under his clothes. It's something cute that only you get to see when he takes off his top in front of you. Or when he teasingly pulls the collar down to expose his piercings just to bully you with his bare skin and that nice decorative metal. In private, he likes how its perfectly where the tips of his fingers would rest when he puts his arms around your shoulder, gently circling around the piercing as the two of you snuggle and chat. He also loves it if you were to gently kiss his collarbone near the piercing while looking up at him with all the love in your eyes, hands slowly lifting up his top the admire the piercing better.

Kayn already has a bunch but would love to get snakebites with you. It is badass and honestly very sexy, he loves how the metal clinks against yours when you two kiss. The kind of fucker to bite on your piercings and pull on them. Loving the way your lips would part and how it would hurt just a little. Of course he takes care of it too, hands holding your face as he looks at you with a calm, almost serious expression as he helps your clean the piercings after he plays with them. He would be the kind to sit on your lap, hovering over you as his hands dexterously fondle with the metal, helping you change the accessories after they heal. When he's feeling a little special, he would look away all shy and embarrassed before lightly kissing each piercing.

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shojizbae · 9 months

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Hobie's Innocent Girlfriend

Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

♛♜

Can you just imagine Hobie with a super innocent type of girlfriend? not that creepy type of couple where a guy dates someone younger than him and she's all infantilized. His girlfriend is actually older than him but she was raised in a conservative protestant house (the national religion of Britain) and hasn't shaken her upbringing despite being in university. They met in a guitar class, (her being classically trained and wanting to expand her skills) Hobie was there because he could sneak in and figure out a riff that he hadn't yet nailed.

She was instantly fascinated by him because he looked so different than what she was used to seeing. Heavy chains that rattled with every step and scratched pin on a sleeveless jacket caught her eye. He spotted her because she looked like something off of a private school pamphlet. neat long coiffed hair, thin gold wristwatch and pleated skirt. everything about her screamed elitist old money.

He was shocked though when she walked over at the end of the class. She told him his name and pointed to a pin on his denim vest.

"What is a sex pistol?" she folds her hand behind her back.

"It's a band. They yell at rich pricks for acting like they are better than the rest of everyone."

"Cool!" he tries to carry on the conversation but she continues to get pissed off by her. Everything she is is everything he stands against. ad going against his grain is pretty rocking. She is one bonnie. He claims that he slowly seduced her. In actuality, she was the one who accidentally got him hook, line, and sinker. They start dating after a month or two of knowing each other.

Hobie is so irredeemably in love with her. And they look so out of place with each other. Half of her belongings are pink all of her socks have ruffles. Hobart is so grungy and dirty compared to her. But (Y/n) is absolutely enamored by him. She is fascinated by how different and real he is. Every time she comes over to his house she looks out of place but it makes his heart ga-lump every time he sees her picking through his collection of vintage pins. One day while looking through his desk full of knick-knacks she finds a neglected spiked bracelet.

"Hobie?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can I have this bracelet?" he hears the clink of a snap and sees the ratty piece of leather with tarnished pewter spikes. He notices how it looks so out of place on your ‘pretty in pink’ look and his heart thrums at the disruption.

“Yeah love, looks great on you.” He tries to bite back the smile forming on his face.

Another time you two are making out and and you get caught on his lip ring. Not physically just mentally. Your in his lap, straddling him, finger threes in the back of his hair. He’s got his hands on your ass and he uses them to keep you as close as possible. He tries to pull back for air but he notices that you’re adhered to his lips like a damn leech.

“Dear, what’s gotten into you?” He smirks in contentment

“I love that little hoop Hobie.” She smirks and half licks her lips

“Yeah?” He questions punctuating with a kiss.

“Yeah.” She chases his kiss as he pulls away.

“Well maybe we should get you some.”

“Ok,” she climbs back in him taking a more dominant stance than before. Hobie loved when she got riled up. She was so hot. That following night Hobie found a piercing shop and even booked an appointment.

Hobie had to hold her hand the whole time she was getting pierced. She didn’t go so extreme as he did with his dermals. Instead she walked out with a bar through her tongue, a nostril hoop, and seven different cartilage piercings. It was going to be torture not to kiss her for “4-6 weeks” he rolled his eyes at that. Somehow though her body healed much quicker than the piercer thought and she was able to return just 16 days later to get a smaller bar in her mouth. She did add one nipple ring and something glittery in her bellybutton.

Hobie was over the moon about being able to kiss her but now he could only play with one titty and he loved both of your titties. He was extra tic to see you become a more punk person while still holding all of your values. And your hole punched ears could be easily hidden if you wore your hair down. You did however have to skip Christmas claiming sickness instead of returning to your family.

Hobie was beside himself. On the one hand Christmas is a Marxist celebration that’s been stripped of its initial pagan roots and been commercialized into a plot for capitalism. On the other hand you were very upset that you couldn’t go home to have mass with your family because you knew they would disapprove of your piercings and of Hobie. Both things you loved endlessly.

I order to cheer you up Hobie had to sacrifice all of his pride. He bought you a few presents, mostly thing you’ve said you need for your flat which he has sporadically moved into. He pinned mistletoe on oversold way with tape because your landlord is a complete asshole. He made you breakfast in bed and told you to get dressed. There was a church nearby and as much as he hated organized religion he hates to see you upset far much more.

The whole time you were smiling. You sang every word to every song. Even before the priest was done quoting the scripture you would cite it. When you got home he made brunch as you set out presents around the tiny plastic tree. Every time you passed through a door way he would trot over to you and say something sly like

“Oh look what we have here? Looks like you need to kiss me.” And you two ended up turning off the stove and shagging like animals in heat.

slowly though, you start to rub off on him

he starts using your fancy expensive ass skincare. You find him napping under your giant fluffy chunky knit blanket; especially after late-night spider escapades. He especially takes on your drama shows and soap operas. He loves when you throw one of your fluffy robes at him when he forgets to grab a towel after the shower.

Eventually, he wears you down enough to introduce him to your parents. they're terrified of what he could be because for over 2 years you've hidden him from them. they're shocked because you squeezed him into a cashmere sweater and slacks. His hair was combed and his piercings had been removed. You manage to scrape through the dinner with no bonfire temper tantrums from your mom. When you finally get back in your car he sighs and tears the sweater off. He drives you home completely shirtless and is grunting and moaning the whole time.

"Love, if you ever make me wear a button-down shirt again, I'll cut the nipples and arms off of it."

"What?" she shreiks

"Yeah, and I'll shag you in front of your old man."

"Hobie!" you slap his bare chest

"I can't help it love, you get me going." He put a hand on your thigh and gives them a gentle rub.

"Hobie wait until we make it home!"

"What, c'mon! You won't even jerk me off a little babe? Please?"

"Well, you sit with the thought for a moment. "You did so well playing house for me. And, you look pretty hot right now." you pull your seatbelt from behind your back and shift your hips around "Maybe just a little." you pull your hair into a ponytail and pull down his zipper. Let's just say Hobie's foot was on the gas pedal all the way to the apartment.

#across the spiderverse #spider punk #hobart brown #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown #innocent girlfriend #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobart brown x reader

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skyeslittlecorner · 2 months

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Heey, so when I cleaned my piercings last time suddenly this idea for an headcanon or scenario flashed my mind where morax is in awe of reader cleaning and taking care of their piercings. I don't know I just thought about it as cute of how amazed he would be to see the process of cleaning them but not in a weird way tho and wanted to ask if you would maybe write that kind of scenario? Pretty please💜

Morax is such a lovely gentle soul, I can't wait to get to Paradise Lost to get to know him better! As befits a good doctor, he is delighted to learn something new. Especially since this time it's not a serious wound, but something simply beautiful. 🧡

Words: ~450

Piercing | Morax

Blood, dust, sweat. Even if you weren't directly involved in combat, walking through Gehenna was like running through an obstacle course, especially if you encountered angels along the way. Zagan, who accompanied you, stayed to fight and sent you to the nearest safe place. That's how you ended up in one of the field hospitals. Today was a quiet day, there were only a few patients, and Morax, who was on duty today, was organizing medicine supplies.

"Something happened? Are you hurt?” He asked in alarm before you had even entered the tent.

You spread your arms to prove that you were safe, sound and unbloody. The bottles in his bandaged hands clanged and caught your attention.

“I’m okay, but I'd love to borrow a little dressing. If you have enough supplies.”

“Go ahead.”

He watched carefully as you prepared your medicine, clearly curious. You untied the strings at the neck of your blouse, and his shocked expression made you burst out laughing. You slid the material over your shoulders, revealing your cleavage. The white gauze you had on your collarbone appeared.

As you washed your hands, he couldn't take his eyes off the slightly protruding, slender bone. You gently removed the bandage and three tiny dermal piercings emerged, surrounded by slightly red skin. You were proud of them and felt a knot of excitement in your stomach, waiting for his reaction. The knot tightened as something like sadness passed through Morax's eyes.

"You do not like them?"

"Me?" He looked away, remorse written all over his face, even though he was hiding under bandages. "They are beautiful and suit you well. It's just… I didn't know you were already a member of Avisos.”

He was clearly trying to hide the disappointment you could hear anyway.

“Is that all it's about?”

“Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you've found your place here and that His Majesty Beelzebub…”

You didn't have the heart to keep him in suspense. The stress left you when you realized that the devil was simply a little jealous.

“I had this piercing done on Earth.”

The relief that appeared in his eyes was mixed with fascination as he looked at you again.

“Hmm… His highness's piercing really doesn't need any dressings. I thought it was because you were human.”

“That's because His Majesty hasn't seen it yet. In fact, no one has, except you. Can you hold the mirror for me, please?”

"Willingly."

You were standing in front of him, so he had a perfect view of you gently taking off and putting away your piercing, soaking them in a sea salt solution, and disinfecting small wounds with a cotton bud. He absorbed every detail he could remember. He had to know how to take care of you in every way possible... and decided in his heart that the next time he would ask you if he could help you. As part of medical practice, of course.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb morax #skye's little talk

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museofthepyre · 2 months

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MAJOR CHNT FILE 33/34 SPOILERS. LIKE MAJOR MAJOR.

Sydney’s mode of death has been wracking my brain lately. So I’m here to ramble off my thoughts. I think the biggest clue is this line from Elijah.

“Died tenderly on the clean sheets it was gifted”… I was a fan of the drowning theory, but this is pretty solid evidence against it. Drowning is messy, whatever Jedidiah did was discrete and clean— also, possibly in some sort of hospital bed? Cabin… bed? Gifted clean sheets… whatever that means. Anyways drowning or not, the respiratory distress/ hypoxia themes are HUGE and INCREDIBLY RE-OCCURRENT so I cannot overlook them. The theory that Jedidiah may have just pulled the plug is also enticing, but I’ts not as directly linked to those specific “can’t breathe” themes… so.

There is a certain discrete and rapidly lethal poison which causes tissue hypoxia... and that is Cyanide. I found these tidbits interesting.

Sounds kinda similar to a certain someone’s current “mystery condition”. Anyways

Most important things here: Cyanide poisoning presents as respiratory distress/ hypoxia/ “trouble breathing”. longer exposures can result in a coma, long-term neurological issues, and obviously death. Exposure can be through ingestion, inhalation, or dermal routes. No mess. It’s often used in murders/ su!cides for these reasons.

So. That is! Certainly something! Just a theory, but very interesting! I also find it funny that most people think of apple seeds when they think of cyanide. Boy oh boy, I sure hope there isn’t anything dangerous inside this here apple. Like a teensy bit of cyanide… or a centipede.

To the drowning theory’s credit. Hypoxia, again. Themes of not being able to breathe. Sydney’s first described dream with Adam being set under water. Jedidiah throwing the necromancy’d rabbit into the lake after disassembling it. Sydney’s hydrophobia (though that may stem back to childhood). Jedidiah being averse to this years lake day all of a sudden (which is noted as uncharacteristic). Probably some other things that I’m forgetting… but that “died tenderly on the clean sheets it was gifted” line is pretty hard to refute.

Also also I think regardless of where Sydney DIED, he was RESURRECTED on the camp grounds. I could speculate on how he got to the campgrounds in the first place… but I’m almost wondering if… so yknow how when treatments are failing and it looks like a patient is going to die, they’re given the option to a) stay in hospital and keep going with the treatment, despite the risk of dying there… or b) embrace fate and spend their remaining days comfortable, at home and with loved ones? Sydney had fond memories of the camp. Sydney didn’t have a home to return to (besides maybe Lucille’s house but I doubt he’d choose that). So I wonder if, in that scenario, he would’ve chosen the camp. If he’d been gifted a room to stay in for however long (they thought) he had left. Which would be why Elijah knew where to go interrogate Lucille later on… if he’d followed them there initially. This bit is entirely speculation btw, major guess. The timelines are hard to string together atp so take this with a grain of salt.

This is driving me to madness

#ramblings #camp here and there #chnt #camp here & there #ch&t #chnt spoilers #camp here and there spoilers #ch&t spoilers #sydney sargent #sydney o sargent #jedidiah martin #jedidiah a a martin #elijah volkov #tem chnt

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pro-mammonologist · 6 months

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I have a fem ask. Its been on my mind and i got curious. How would mammon react to seeing body piercings during sex? Like, I’m genuinely curious. For example, if he’s taking your shirt off and sees you have a navel piercing and the jewelry piece has his initial or just cute in general. Or if he sees that you have back dermals? Or maybe saw that you decorated your tits with nipple piercings?

Okay okay okayyyy so

Mammon would first be a little shocked and he’d probably grin like an idiot. Especially at titty piercings!!! He loves seeing them and if you’re on the shier side and get embarrassed he’ll definitely say “why’d you get em if you don’t wanna show me”

And then he’d probably be a little scared to play with your titties cuz he doesn’t want to tug but if you tell him that it won’t hurt, then he’s definitely down to play. Mammon can’t resist something so cute and undeniably sexy as much as he claims he can, his tongue is already on them before he can even help it.

Mammon has definitely already seen your navel piercing whether you know it or not. He’s snuck a few glances. He’s always thought it was cute bit when he sees that you switched to M shaped jewelry, he’s all 🤭🤭🤭 he’s obsessed with it.

Mammon likes body piercings but he’s a little bitch only his ears he can take, so he really admires his partner if they have them. If you have less common piercings, he’s even more impressed. Mostly with how they work tho. They just stick there???? How???? He doesn’t get it. Mammon might get distracted mid fuck to ask but then he kills the mood and is mad at himself.

Mammon can also try to be smug about you having jewelry referencing him, but ultimately, he just finds it adorable and can’t even try to be smug. He’s also a little embarrassed at first especially if others know. Eventually, he shows it off.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #mammon #obey me nightbringer #currently under mammons bed #mammon smut #obey me mammon x reader #obey me headcanons #mammon fluff

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crowzwrites · 3 months

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Mcspirk bingo

They never learn, hands

ao3

content warning: Blood and injury, non-graphic surgery

@mcspirkevents

It’s another day on the enterprise, Doctor McCoy is staring down at his coffee whilst idly reading some research about the Vulcan healing trance. Something he’d never even known existed before Spock joined their ranks on this ship, for a lack of a better word he finds it fascinating how Vulcans have such control over their own bodies both mentally and physically. He’d seen Spock do it before and he had to be slapped to wake up from it. McCoy has grown closer to Spock recently despite how it might look on the outside, arguing and throwing insults at each other though Spock did it more subtly by insulting him with his big words. Leonard had developed a soft spot for the half-Vulcan and he blames it on Jim, the damn matchmaker! Not so subtly coaxing his buried feelings for Spock like you would trying to disarm a landmine, when Spock and Kirk got together Leonard put his affections aside and showed them his fullest support. Though deep down he longed for both of them, with Jim it was easier to admit his feelings for him as they had been best friends years before they departed to space together. Maybe they screwed around in their academy days. Maybe.

With Spock however, Leonard didn't know when his feelings for him started, at first McCoy would poke at Spock about his feelings and humanity. Then it grew into something more and they'd debate the mundane to the nonsensical, Spock would occasionally give him a small smile that made his ridiculous heart skip a beat. Maybe he should have gotten that checked out because now he's having a goddamn heart attack over the stupid green-blooded man. Who's being rushed into sickbay with a stab wound to the chest, and of course Jim with his shirt ripped to pieces that he may as well just be shirtless. Not that he'd mind a bit. However, he also has a couple of gashes and bruises, though not as bad as Spock.

“Get him prepped for surgery, Stat!” McCoy shouts out his orders and follows after Christine who's diligently checking over the hair-brained Vulcan.

McCoy switches into doctor mode, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach when he looks at the emerald green blood leaking out of his partner, he tries not to think about how close the wound is to his heart. Spock had long since entered a healing trance which McCoy is thankful for, he doesn't think he'd be able to stop himself from lecturing the man about how stupid he is, though he'll do that once Spock wakes up. He and Jim better have a good explanation for this one.

The doctor breathes in and out, it's all a blur after that. Green blood staining his hands as he sets about discerning the damage, cleaning the most obvious wound and administering anesthetic. The offending weapon had not penetrated the patient's heart and had grazed past his stomach which only required him to use the tissue regenerator for a short while before knitting the flesh back together with an Autosuture as a dermal regenerator wouldn't do much for a deeper wound. The bleeding has stopped, slowly but surely the patient's pale skin starts to pull together and is only left with a green scar atop it. McCoy sighs and starts to work on mending the other lighter wounds, then makes sure there are no other issues present. It's slow work but he's glad the patient is all patched up and not bleeding on him, he grabs a hypospray that will accelerate organ tissue growth and help Spock heal quicker. As he isn't perfectly healed up quick yet, he dreads trying to keep the stoic Vulcan off duty for a couple of days.

McCoy takes off his protective gloves, Christine gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and smiles at him knowingly before leaving. The room is empty and quiet, the only noise being the heart-rate monitor which is slow because of the healing trance. He sits down on a plastic chair and looks up at Spock's face that's eerily still, Leonard intertwines their hands and thinks about hugging him when he wakes up. After a couple of minutes, Jim comes in and sits next to him.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah he's okay, Jim. It was a close call though…” he huffs.

“I'm glad he’s okay, sorry for worrying you Bones.” Jim puts a hand on his thigh and gives him a small smile.

He doesn’t feel like lecturing Jim today, but he gives him a look that communicates how he feels. They never learn, he thinks and rolls his eyes. McCoy knows it comes with the job, all these unknowns and dangers but there’s also a beauty in it, when Spock talks about the new life he’s found on the planet or performing experiments with him down in the labs just because Leonard knows it makes him happy even if he doesn’t express it. Slowly he feels himself drifting off, holding his partners' hands as he sleeps.

Leonard dreams of Spock, putting a hand on his face and stroking the pale skin gently, tracing his fingertips over his pointed ears which makes the Vulcan start to purr softly. He feels at peace. Jim is petting his hair lightly too.

The dream turns sour. Green and red blood soaking his hands as he panics, only darkness is around him and he can hear his lovers yelling out in pain and he can do nothing but search the endless void covered in their gore.

He wakes up with a soft gasp, his heart beating fast and for a second believing his nightmare to be true. However, it isn’t, as Jim is next to him and resting his head on his shoulder whilst he naps. Leonard squeezes both of their hands. In the end he drags Jim back to their quarters for the night, it won’t do them any good to sleep in the shitty sickbay chairs and have an awful neck ache in the morning. Jim reluctantly follows, they eat some food and shower before falling asleep next to each other.

The next day, McCoy promises to watch over Spock so that Jim can get back to his duties as captain. Sickbay is mostly quiet, aside from a couple of crew members who had either had an accident in engineering or caught a minor virus. Leonard is thankful for that, being occupied for the morning to take his mind off Spock for a little while. When there’s no one else left to treat he drifts over to Spock's bed and simply looks at him, taking in his appearance as well as glancing towards the monitor. He finds himself thinking about what could’ve happened, seeing Spock with a knife wound to his Vulcan heart and dying in front of him, he bites his lip and feels himself becoming emotional even though his partner is right there in front of him sleeping away. It’s illogical to dwell on the what ifs, Spock would chide him but give him a small smile that acknowledges his concerns.

Then he’s sitting by the biobed again, wiping a tear from his eye. He’s about to grasp Spock's hand when the heart rate monitor picks up, in his mind he feels a pull and he knows it’s time to wake up Spock. Leonard stands up and puts a hand on Spock's cheek, instead of slapping him he intends to try a different approach. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to Spock's lips and bites his lip. That seems to be enough to break it as Spock is kissing him back within seconds, he feels a surge of affection from the Vulcan - Leonard huffs and pulls back. Spock is giving him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” McCoy boops Spock's nose.

“An unorthodox way to bring me out of my trance,” he rasps.

“You’re welcome, darlin’.”

They kiss again, Leonard cards a hand through Spock's silky hair. He feels better now, banishing the what ifs from his mind to enjoy his lover's presence once again. Jim’ll be ecstatic to hear Spocks woken up, he’s probably already on his way.

“You really worried me there for a second Spock…” he takes a step back, taking in Spock's lively form.

“I am sorry, Ashalik.”

“You better be! If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again dammit. I love you…”

He crosses his arms and sighs, Spock gives him an apologetic look and sends his affections back through their bond. McCoy grabs Spock's hand and holds it tightly, projecting some of his previous thoughts, the alternatives. If that knife had been a centimeter closer, the green blood on his hands, not being able to save him. Neither of them say anything but Leonard knows Spock feels guilty and he knows Spock loves him and that he’s okay. A moment later, Jim bursts into the room and takes Spock's other hand, kissing him on the cheek.

“Spock!” Jim smiles.

“Jim. Should you not be on the bridge?”

McCoy rolls his eyes at that, as if Jim would stay there when Spock's awake and well. It’s not like the Klingons were attacking them or anything. At least he has the excuse of working in sickbay.

“I’m glad you’re okay, I’ve missed you.” He looks over to Leonard and holds his hand which makes him huff.

“And I, you.”

Jim stays for a while longer before giving him and Spock a peck on the cheek before departing back to the bridge reluctantly. Leonard traces lines over Spock's palm and closes his eyes, imagining having him and Jim in his arms before they sleep as they always do. He can feel Spock's approval, a soft purr thrumming through his body and they relax in each other's presence, no more thoughts about Spock's viridescent blood coating his arms, only peace and love as he holds his partner's hand in his.

#star trek #mcspirk #spones #mcspirk bingo #spock #kirk #mccoy #star trek tos #sfw #writing

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getaway-gatsby · 2 years

Text

Highly Illogical - 1/1

It is no easy task getting Dr Leonard McCoy to admit he needs a day off. Luckily, Y/N has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Originally posted on AO3 as getaway_gatsby. Trektober2022 gen prompt 26

"Y/N, I'm begging you, can you come and collect your fiancé? He's contaminating my med bay."

The exasperated voice of Nurse Chapel sounded from your communicator. You suppressed a sigh, although the call was hardly a surprise - you'd known that Bones was coming down with something since that morning. Aside from the persistent coughing, he had been unusually irritable at breakfast, a clear sign that he was under the weather. Leonard McCoy may have been notorious amongst the crew for his irascibility, but he was only tetchy with you when he felt utterly miserable.

With a groan, you flipped open your communicator.

“I did suggest he take the day off, but I got told to mind my own business.”

"Sounds about right. I've been trying to talk some sense into him for hours now. It's not going well. He's pricklier than an Andorian porcupine."

This piqued your interest. "When have you ever seen an Andorian porcupine?"

"I may have embellished slightly", Christine said dismissively. "The point is, you've got to help me before I have an epidemic on my hands. My job's so much easier when the Chief Medical Officer's not doubling as patient zero."

“Understood, Chris. I’m on my way.”

***

The doors of the med bay parted with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the harried face of Nurse Chapel. From the CMO’s office, the sound of raised voices drifted into the otherwise peaceful infirmary. Recognising the even tones of the First Officer, you raised a quizzical eyebrow at Christine.

“Why is Spock here?”

“He wanted the doctor to sign some reports, I think. Now he’s trying to logic him into going home.”

You heard Leonard’s unnaturally husky voice responding to Spock, his speech punctuated by ragged coughs. The sound was enough to make you wince in sympathy.

“He wasn’t that bad this morning. That cough sounds awful.”

Christine rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’ve been telling him that for the last five hours, but what do I know? I’m only the ship’s head nurse.”

Leaving Chapel to her patients, you wandered over to Bones’ office, where Spock stood in front of the CMO’s desk, his back to you. Leonard sat hunched over said desk, head in his hands. Both officers were too engrossed in their argument to notice your presence, and you let them quarrel whilst you considered your next steps.

"You're making a fuss about nothing," Bones was saying, in little more than a hoarse whisper. "I'm hardly ready to kick the bucket yet.”

"I fail to see what relevance such a receptacle has to your condition." Spock sounded completely bewildered, and you bit back a laugh.

Muttering something very unprofessional under his breath, Leonard cleared his throat. "It's called a metaphor, you pointy-eared hobgoblin." It was some small comfort that the CMO still felt well enough to insult Spock.

"I am familiar with a metaphor, Doctor. A most illogical device."

"Spock, if you call me illogical one more time..."

"Very well." Spock smoothly interrupted the CMO's threat. "But you must admit you are being irrational, at the very least. Your productiveness is down 52.3%, and by refusing to leave, you risk infecting others. That is not the behaviour of a logical man."

Fortunately for Spock, Bones' retort was lost as he doubled over in a fit of hacking coughs. He clearly needed rest, but Spock's approach was getting nowhere. However, all this talk of rationality had given you an idea. If Spock’s logic was failing to make an impact, maybe you should try being illogical.

Stepping forward, you tapped the Vulcan on the shoulder, indicating that you would take over. Although Spock rarely showed his emotions, something akin to relief crossed his features as he exited the room. You moved closer to your fiancé, and, sensing a presence, Leonard groaned.

"Spock, if you don't leave me alone, I swear, I will find my dermal regenerator, and I will shove it so far up your- "

"Now, is that any way to address your loving girlfriend?", you reprimanded teasingly, and, at the sound of your voice, the CMO finally lifted his head from the desk. He looked absolutely wretched. His usually limpid eyes were red-rimmed, perfectly complementing the spots of high colour on each cheek. In contrast, the rest of his face was ashen.

You dropped your hand onto his shoulder, concerned by the tremors that wracked his frame. "Chapel says you aren't feeling too well."

A look of intense irritation flashed across his face. "People keep telling me that. I feel fine."

Now for the illogicality. "I believe you."

Bones peered up at you, his irritation replaced by deep suspicion. "You do? Why're you here then?"

"Do I need a reason to visit my fiancé?" You perched on the edge of the desk so that your face was level with his. "You know, I'm glad you feel alright. If you were ill, then I couldn't do this." And you slowly began to close the gap between his lips and yours. You knew there was no way he'd risk kissing you in his current state. Sure enough, a glint of alarm appeared in his eyes.

“I’m on shift, darlin’”, he said, recoiling uneasily. “Someone might see.”

You gently guided his face back towards you. "Who's going to see? Spock's gone."

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N, and it won’t work.”

“No?”, you replied, bringing his lips still nearer to yours; until they were almost touching. Three centimetres… two… one…

“Goddamnit, woman!”, Bones expostulated, pushing his chair away from the desk, away from you. “Fine! I’ll admit, I might be slightly under the weather. Are you happy now?”

Once more, you drew him close to you, but instead of kissing him, you pressed your lips against his forehead, frowning at the heat you found there.

"I think slightly might be an understatement, Len. You're burning up."

Now that he had been caught out, his tough facade crumbled quickly. "I feel like hell", he confided quietly. As if to prove his point, he pitched forward in a trio of explosive sneezes, groaning dejectedly after each one. Your heart ached for him.

"Why don't you come back to our quarters, sweetheart?", you suggested softly. "I'll even make soup."

"Pressing a button on a replicator doesn't count as making, Y/N. And I've got all this paperwork to do." He gestured at his PADD and the notes scattered across his desk, but you could see his resolve was beginning to weaken.

"Chapel can do those. You're always saying you need to delegate more."

"I'll do anything." You hadn't realised Christine was standing in the doorway until she addressed Bones. "Just please get out of here. You're becoming a biohazard."

Bones grumbled something about traitorous nurses but rose to his feet regardless, swaying slightly as he did so. You tucked one arm around his waist and, winking triumphantly at Christine, started to wend your way back to your shared quarters.

You had nearly arrived when your communicator chirped. With some difficulty, considering you were still supporting Leonard, you hooked it out of your belt.

"Y/L/N here."

"This is Spock. I wondered if you had had any success regarding Doctor McCoy."

"Affirmative, sir. We're nearly back at our quarters now."

"I am curious. How did you get him to leave the med bay?"

You grinned. "I tried to kiss him."

There was a brief pause in which you could practically hear the cogs in Spock’s brain turn. Then: “A highly illogical approach, Lieutenant.”

“He’s a highly illogical man, Commander.”

“I heard that”, Bones groused, clearly not as out of it as you had assumed.

Smiling slightly, you signed off from your call to Spock, continuing on your mission to care for your highly illogical doctor.

Star Trek Taglist: @imherefordeanandbones

#leonard mccoy x reader #leonard bones mccoy #leonard mccoy imagine #star trek aos #star trek tos #christine chapel #spock #sickfic #trektober2022

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

Note

AHHH such a good chapter!! As a Makarov fan is there any headcannons or drabbles from his perspective you could offer in these trying times? I’d any insights into how Makarov thought about roach - if he thought he was truly winning him over at any point. What a fantastic fanfic!!!

YOU HAVE GIVEN ME SO MUCH POWER I'M BRINGING MAKAROV OUT OF HIS ENCLOSURE AGAIN JUST FOR THIS

Negotiation

Makarov's POV of Roach's Seduction

Warnings: dub-con, non-con implied, Makarov

Makarov didn’t look at the man next to him as he cleaned the cuts on his hand. His knuckles were bruised and split open in a few areas. He hadn’t held back his hits. His face and neck stung with the scratches of the man he’d had beneath him only hours earlier. The reminder of his little fight with the object of his attention pulled a grin to his face.

His little pet had been feral, snarling and biting at him as rage shone clearly in his eyes. Makarov had wanted to take him apart on the floor of the plane. He’d settled for a hand around his neck instead. A shiver wracked his spine at the memory.

He reached into his jacket with his free hand, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket. He popped the top open with his thumb and nudged one of the cigarettes from the package to rest in his mouth. The package was discarded on his desk in favor of the lighter in his pocket. Smoke blissfully filled his lungs a moment later.

He wondered what his little insect was doing at the moment. Likely licking his wounds. Maybe he was in bed, tossing uncomfortably in the sheets as his pillow dug into the marks that he’d left on his skin. He wanted to groan at the thought, wishing he’d been able to mark him in a different way. He had to take things slow though, had to take his time in convincing the other man. He reminded himself lowly that he’d have what he wanted eventually. He just had to be patient. He could be patient.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ash from the end off against his chair. A sigh caught his attention and he looked up at the man next to him. Petrov was his uncle. He was the man who’d raised him. He was one of the only men who Makarov truly believed wished him no harm. It was the man’s mistake, he wasn’t going to correct it.

He could see from the look on the man’s face that he wanted to speak. Makarov knew what the conversation would likely be about. The man had already tried to convince him out of keeping what was his around. Just like all of the others in the party, just like all of the others in this world, he did not understand. His little Insect understood.

Makarov rolled his eyes lightly as the man sighed again. He assumed that he wasn’t going to stop until he’d let him have his piece. With that in mind, he looked up and raised an eyebrow at the man, “Speak, Petrov, I can see you have something to say.”

Petrov gave him a slightly scolding look, Makarov resisted the urge to stab him. The man was loyal, he wouldn’t throw that away on a whim. “I would like to speak about Sergeant Sanderson again.”

“My plans have not changed,” Makarov brought the cigarette back to his lips, “Nothing you say will change that.”

“He attacked you,” Petrov finished wrapping his hand and moved to begin cleaning the cuts on his face, “If anyone else had done that, you would have them dead already.”

“Exactly, if anyone else had. The Insect is not anyone else. He’s mine, and what is mine gets special privileges.” Makarov turned to give him a lazy grin, “Like getting treated by my doctor, and getting away with attacking me.”

Petrov gave him another scolding look, “I believe he is up to something.” He shook his head as he cleaned the wound on his face, “He has a bump in his right wrist. He claims it’s metal from a break when he was younger.”

Makarov leaned back in his seat, considering the man’s words carefully, “You think he is lying?”

“I have seen things,” Petrov tilted his head, “Sub-dermal trackers, for example. He was rather defensive over it when I asked. This should be investigated.”

Makarov shook his head lowly, “I’ll keep it in mind.” He understood Petrov’s worry, he understood that the other man would be concerned about some sort of betrayal. Makarov wasn’t. He knew that in order for his pet to have tricked him somehow, he would have been forced to tell his team about his memories. The reactions of his teammates in Finland told him well enough that he hadn’t.

“He wanted to speak to you. Asked me to tell you that and tell you that he understands if he needs to be restrained when you meet next.” That caught Makarov’s attention, his mind turning over itself with several different thoughts at once.

He wanted to speak to him? So soon? He hadn’t expected him to react so soon. He considered the words, his mind latching on to the fact that he’d even told Petrov he’d be willing to be restrained. The mental image of that, of the Insect with his hands tied behind his back for him made him squirm in his seat a bit, heat creeping up his neck. Another time.

“I will go to him soon, then.” He spoke simply.

“Vladimir,” Petrov warned lowly, “I do not trust the American. This could be a trap.”

“The man is injured beyond belief Petrov,” Makarov raised an eyebrow at him, “I believe I can handle myself.

He came into the room late at night, when he was sure that the other man would be asleep. He was quiet as he moved, quiet as he pulled a chair up beside his bed and lit a cigarette so that it could hang between his fingers. It was a move to throw the other man off. To put him in control once again.

He leaned back in the seat casually, admiring the face of his sleeping pet. He looked so peaceful. Makarov found that he enjoyed that look on the man. He enjoyed the idea that, one day, the other would be comfortable enough in his presence that the peace on his face would make an appearance more often. It would take time. He was willing to wait.

He could see the moment that the other man woke up. He didn’t say anything, only watched as the other man kept his eyes closed for several moments before he pushed himself up in the bed, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He didn’t seem surprised by Makarov’s presence.

He turned to face him and they stared at one another for several moments. Makarov took a drag from his cigarette, admiring the way that the moon illuminated the bruises that were blossoming on the neck of the man across from him. He wanted to run his tongue along them, wanted to taste the other man. He wanted to hear him whimper again like he’d done in the plane earlier that day. Perhaps he could make him cry out to him for another reason?

“I’m sorry,” the other man spoke quietly, his voice soft. It only took Makarov a moment to realize what he was referring to.

He tilted his head at him, amusement tugging at his chest, “No you aren’t, Insect.”

He watched the other man shift in his place, obviously uncomfortable as he glanced away. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, “No. No, I’m not.” He turned back to him, meeting him with challenging narrowed eyes, “You aren’t sorry either.”

“No,” Makarov admitted with a low chuckle, “I enjoy your anger too much for that.” He gave the other man a look, his eyes raking over his body as he remembered the way that the other had snapped at him. Had tried to tear his throat open with his teeth. He knew he was fucked for the other man when the memory of it didn’t fill him with rage, only lust.

The other turned his head away from him, a blush resting high on his cheeks. It told Makarov that he’d seen the look, he’d recognized the lust. “You’re here late, Nightmare?”

The words tore Makarov from his previous train of thought, his hands clenching around the chair. He took another drag from the cigarette as he tried to form an answer. There was something vulnerable about being around the man across from him. He knew exactly what Makarov had felt. They were one and the same. It was odd to have someone who could peer inside his soul so easily.

“Memories,” he finally answered, flicking the ash from his cigarette, “I thought that they would stop once Captain Price was dead.”

He was surprised by the kindness in the other man’s voice when he responded, “They don’t stop.” Makarov watched him pick at the covers of the bed, his body relaxing slightly at the other man’s voice, “I thought the same when I killed Shepherd. I thought I could finally be free of them. I was wrong.”

“What do you do, to handle them?” Makarov watched him closely, his chest feeling light as they spoke. It was so comforting to have someone who understood him. Someone who was meant for him. He thanked the universe once again for giving him the man in front of him.

Roach tilted his head, “I don’t really handle them. I just…try to ignore them I suppose?” He shrugged and Makarov could see the way that the words weighed on his shoulders, “You just, try to focus on the good things around you, the positives of a new life.”

“Positives of a new life,” Makarov repeated airily. He watched the man in front of him. This man was the positive of his new life. Was the gift that he’d been given. He shifted in his seat, watching him closely. More than anything he wanted to take him, to have him fully as he intended to in that moment. He remained patient.

“I could listen. I guess. It might be good to talk, for both of us.”

Makarov watched him carefully, surprised at his offer. There was something at play in his words, he could see that there was some set sort of determination in the man’s eyes, like he’d made his mind up about something. Makarov was wary of it. “Perhaps,” he started simply, “What makes you think that is something that I would want, Insect?”

Quiet fell over the two for a moment before Roach took in a deep breath and held a hand out toward Makarov, “Do you have another cigarette?”

The words were said so sweetly. Like honey. Makarov couldn’t help the mischievous smile that crossed his lips. He so liked to see his Insect blush, he just couldn’t stop himself. He brought the cigarette to his lips, taking another drag from it before carefully reaching forward to place it in the other man’s hand, a sense of smugness taking over.

He was surprised at the lack of reaction from the man in front of him. He was even more surprised as he watched the man’s eyes drop into something low and sweet, looking up at him from his lashes as he brought the cigarette to his mouth. His lips wrapped around it, he didn’t cough, only took a slow drag from it before letting the smoke escape his only slightly parted lips.

Makarov felt hot. Completely hot. The smoke created a haze around them. Makarov noted how gorgeous the other man looked. He gripped his seat tight, trying to control himself as his brain became painfully empty, all of the blood in his body rushing lower.

He wanted to taste the smoke on the other man’s lips, he wanted to part his mouth with his own and take anything and everything that the other would give him.

Those eyes remained on him. “I think,” his eyes tracked the movement of a tongue swiping across lips. He wished so desperately that it was his lips that the other man was licking at. “I think that you enjoy me being here.”

The man across from him was playing a dangerous game. If he didn’t stop, Makarov wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Careful, Insect.” He kept his words low.

“I think you like to watch me kill people,” That voice dropped lower, laced with a sweet sweet poison that was slowly working its way through Makarov’s veins. “I think you like having control over me. I think you like riling me up.”

Makarov let out a slow breath, his voice more broken than he would like as he weakly defended himself, “You are entertaining when you’re angry.”

He watched the other man tilt his head at him sweetly, “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He watched with a further clouded mind as the man took another drag from the cigarette, watching him closely. Makarov watched the movement, hunger panging at his mind. He wanted to eat the man across from him alive. He wanted to make him scream. He wanted to lock him up in a room, for his eyes only. “So,” Roach tilted his head at him sweetly, his eyes innocent as he asked, “It isn’t because you want to rile me up in other ways?”

Makarov tensed. He could feel his face go a bit red. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, wondering what his play was. He was playing with fire, close to the flame and if he wasn’t careful, Makarov was going to consume him whole. “Careful,” he warned, “you tread a dangerous line, Insect.”

Makarov watched him closely, his guard raised back up as the other took another drag from the cigarette. He watched him snub the light of it out against his leg before leaning back on his hands to look at him lowly. He tried not to get too distracted by the sight and tried to keep his guard up. It was difficult, the other’s position showed off more of the skin of his neck, the arch of his back. Makarov was struggling against his own instincts at that point.

“Dr. Petrov put some things into perspective for me today. I,” he hesitated, biting his lip in a way that was so tempting to the man across from him, “I understand things better. I understand myself better.”

“Oh,” Makarov leaned forward slightly, needing to close the space between them. He wouldn’t touch, his guard was still up, but he needed to be closer. “What do you understand?”

“I can’t go back. Not to my first life, not to the 141 of this life. I’m too far gone for that. I have to control what I can. Play the cards I’ve been given.”

Makarov tilted his head. He wouldn’t assume. He would wait. He needed the man across from him to say the words. “And what exactly is it that you want to control?” He perhaps sounded more eager than he meant to. More wrecked. It was hard to control his reactions to Roach.

Roach bit his lip and leaned closer to him. Makarov stayed where he was, his eyes trailing over the others face, lingering on his lips. It felt like an invitation. He wanted to accept it. He wanted to give in. He stayed strong.

“I don’t like being lied to,” The other man started quietly, “But I know that’s not always going to be something that can happen. Killing people, I don’t like it, but I’ll do it if you tell me too.”

Those sweet words ran directly to Makarov’s head, hazing over his mind. Even through his waning control, he could tell what this was. Negotiation. The man in front of him was negotiating, with himself as the prize. Makarov intended to listen, he intended to get what he wanted out of the deal. “So what is it you want to control,” he met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, “What exactly are your demands.”

I’ll meet them. Whatever they are. Name your price. Name the price for you.

He didn’t say those words out loud. He stayed patient.

“I don’t like being hurt,” the words were stressed, “I know you find me entertaining when I’m in pain, but, maybe we can find something else to keep you entertained.”

There it was. The terms of the deal, punctuated with a glance at his lips from the other man. It was simple enough. It was easy. Why would he hurt the man when he would have another outlet for his fascination, for his love?

He lifted his hand up to gently cradle the other’s neck, leaning closer. Acceptance of their deal. Agreeance to the terms. He still needed the other man to agree. He needed confirmation from his end. He fished for it, “Explain. Clearly. I don’t like riddles.”

Roach gave him a low look, tilting his head further into his hand. Makarov shuddered, shaking with the effort to keep himself from just lunging at the man. He needed to hear it. “You’re the only one who understands me, I’m the only one who understands you.” Makarov stroked over his face gently with his thumb, his eyes wide as he listened in delight as the other man repeated his words from earlier. They were vows, between them. Roach was handing himself over. Makarov was delighted. His words were sweet, he looked up at him kindly, “I am grateful. Let me be grateful?”

Makarov didn’t hesitate, his guard dropped fully. He surged forward, connecting his lips to the man in front of him, dominating his mouth with the force of his kisses. It was messy. It was rough. His tongue quickly worked its way inside of the other’s mouth.

Roach whimpered beautifully into the kiss for him, allowing himself to be pushed back to lay on the bed as Makarov moved over him, straddling his hips. Hands came up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer. He was in heaven. This was what he’d been waiting for.

He allowed himself to break from the kiss, running his mouth along the bruises on the other’s neck, just like he’d fantasized about earlier. There was another sweet sound from the other's mouth. Makarov had to slow down, had to physically stop himself from continuing. From turning the other man over and making him his in all senses of the word.

This agreement was new, it was tentative. He needed to take things slow. Needed to maintain his composure. He knew that, so he didn’t press further. Didn’t listen to his mind as it begged him to continue. He allowed himself only to capture Roach’s mouth against his again. He’d take only his mouth for now. Later, later he would have the rest.

#vladimir makarov #gary roach sanderson #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw fanfiction #cod mwii #cod #call of duty fanfic #vladmir makarov

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sharkgirldick · 5 months

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Ok you've made many points about the robot girl repair process, all sound like you have experience, buy I'm curious. Have you ever done work on Industrial grade machines? Robot girls to the point you don't have to worry about the fans being too loud because you can't even hear them over the engine's rev. Less wires, much more pistons, hydrolics, gears and shifts. Big metal chassis, built in construction equipment and limbs, maybe weaponized that's your thing.

Basically very big robot girls. Viechular robot girls even. (Maybe me.. on an unrelated note, I do need to post more art in this genera. Thanks for the reminder)

Oh, I'm not really certified to do repairs on industrial machinery. I could probably do minor stuff, MAYBE some part swaps if it's not too complicated.

The internals of robot girls are fragile, much like our organs. The outside and dermal layers are extra durable to make up for that. If you try to fix something and mess it up, it can cause a cascade of issues.

#text post #ask #jam-does-audio

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ellekathryns · 1 year

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“Just look at me. Forget everything else.” For J7 👀

she’s had so many stern talks with the doctor about his poor bedside manner that they’ve merged into one, absurdly drawn-out exchange. still, his improvement has been minimal at best.

when she enters sickbay, blood still drying on her uniform, it’s tom who accosts her with a tricorder, tries to assess the damage. she waves him off.

seven is sitting on the biobed with her back to the door. even from a distance, janeway can see the angry red burns marring the right side of her body. she can see where her suit has almost melted away, revealing the charred skin underneath.

she is certain, just for a moment, that she’s going to be sick. she takes two deep breaths, does her best to quell the nausea.

seven is hunched over, head bowed. janeway hears the doctor chiding her as she approaches the pair of them.

“...invincible. you are human now, seven. it is imperative that you remember…”

“doctor,” she cuts him off sharply, and he turns to her, looking startled.

“captain,” he offers her a brief nod and resumes the job of healing seven with the dermal regenerator, but he doesn’t finish his sentence.

“can i help?” she asks.

“dermal regeneration requires a precision and technical skill not taught in compulsory medical courses at the academy, captain.”

on any other day, she would bristle at his condescension, give him a good telling-off. but she can see a muscle jumping in seven’s jaw from how hard she’s biting down to keep from making any noise. she pays him little mind.

in the following silence, she can hear the shallowness of seven’s breathing. she doesn’t think about protocol, doesn’t think about her role as a captain. she climbs up onto the biobed so that they’re sitting side by side.

seven has always hated sickbay. which is understandable, in janeway’s opinion. when she puts a hand on seven's upper back, between her shoulder blades, she can feel the tension there. she thinks maybe distraction is her best available course of action.

“seven, just look at me, okay? forget everything else.”

seven obliges, turning to her, and kathryn can’t help but flinch at the sight of seven’s face, flecked with blood and patchy with exposed burns.

“how about a trip to the holodeck tomorrow morning? i hear tom’s been working on another earth program, a more modern one.”

seven shakes her head.

“i’m on duty,” she chokes out, and were it not for the whole situation, janeway would laugh.

“not anymore you’re not. captain’s orders. report to the holodeck first thing in the morning.”

this time seven nods, but she’s looking at something above janeway, or behind her, and the captain turns, looking over her shoulder.

“what is it?” she asks after a beat and seven reaches out her uninjured hand to touch the top of janeway’s head gingerly.

“there is blood in your hair. are you damaged?”

this time janeway does laugh. laughs and takes seven’s hand and holds it between both of hers.

“let’s worry about you first, okay.”

seven nods again, looks straight ahead at the doctor as he moves the device from her bicep to her neck.

“captain, please do not feel an obligation to stay if you are needed on the bridge,” seven says eventually. peripherally, she can see this elicit one of the captain’s crooked grins.

“seven, i’m not going anywhere.” she’s still holding seven’s hand. she wonders, briefly, what this looks like from the doctor’s point of view. the captain rushing straight down from the bridge, minutes after an attack, when she’s notified that a member of her crew has been injured.

she wonders what they look like now, her and seven, legs dangling off the table. wonders if the doctor can really understand comfort, can grasp the fact that having seven close—warm and alive, having her hand—is just as much a comfort for her as it is for seven.

there’s no way to know. and it doesn’t matter anyway.

“do you know where tom’s program is set?” seven asks, bringing her back to the present.

“no, i’m not sure. but it’s tom, so you know it’ll be somewhere fun.”

#ty for the prompt!#j/7 #janeway x seven #st: voy #my writing

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conceiteddemon · 1 year

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People started calling it Commuter Syndrome, which sounded a lot better than ‘what-the-fuck-is-happening’ disease. Normal people, with no history of health issues, started checking into Amity General with a host of symptoms including nausea, vomiting, temperature fluctuations that spiked into febrile seizures and dropped into hypothermia, and the degradation of tissues scarily similar to acute radiation poisoning. Half of the hospital was pulling their hair out over the stress, and the other half had it falling out in clumps. The whole system was already overwhelmed by rolling blackouts the previous week, and the influx of people coming unstitched at the seams was definitely a cause for some good old ‘what-the-FUCK-is-happening???’.

The similarities to radiation poisoning caused a mass panic both within the halls of the hospital and in the greater Amity population, until men in crisply pressed HAZMAT suits and wielding Geiger counters arrived and were able to conclusively say that there was nothing radioactive in the area. That didn’t stop the panic, and in fact just seemed to open the floodgates to a horde of conspiracy nuts chiming in with what was really happening. The two people in the parking lot, wearing rumpled, brightly-stained HAZMAT suits and shouting about ghostly interference were customarily ignored, as they always were. Of course, finding out that radiation definitely wasn’t causing the deaths numbering in the hundreds by the second week of the crisis is a poor substitute for actually preventing them.

So far, all that was known about the illness was that it was definitely killing people who did not live in the greater Amity area or parts of West Elmerton, maybe killing people who had moved to Amity instead of being born there, and so far, was not fatal for anyone under the age of twenty. The severity of symptoms seemed to vary wildly, from a mild case no greater than an upset stomach and a persistent chill from a fourteen-year-old (who came in for an unrelated accident) to a thirty-year-old whose bone and tissue density declined rapidly to the point of almost…melting.

The one thing that was consistent across all cases was the presence of an unidentifiable, green, phlegmy substance. It was leaked out of mucous membranes, traces of it were diffused in every part of the patient, it gathered in dermal and subdermal cysts across the face, chest and back. At first, doctors thought that it was a chemical irritant or a reaction to one, slowly dissolving living tissues, that was the cause of the disease. The range of reactions made it seem more like an eldritch allergen than a poison, and no one on staff could even identify the chemical makeup of the substance as samples sublimated within seconds of being taken.

By the fourth day, the government men returned in the form of a frazzled looking older man, flanked by an honor guard in white suits. They practically quarantined the hospital and started trying a variety of aggressive treatments, breaking down the contaminate with little regard for the people contaminated. By the third week, there were no new cases of Commuter Syndrome, gone just as suddenly as it had appeared. Quite a few survivors were also gone just as suddenly as the disease appeared as well.

The rest were released back into the general population, nothing to officially show for their ordeal other than thousands in debt and significant nerve damage. There was talk of a preventative medication being prescribed to residents by the government, but the funding fell short and became nothing more than a rumor. A few crackpots sold ‘cures’ or preventions to Commuter Syndrome such as tinctures, teas, and something that glowed an ominous red color (courtesy of the Drs. Fenton), but the rash of unexplainable deaths at the end of the summer in a modest midwestern city was quickly phased out of the national news cycle and was forgotten about by the public at large. In total, 1,236 deaths were attributed to Commuter Syndrome, and a few thousand more moved away from the area at their earliest convivence.

And that, it seemed, was that. Until about a month later, when the ghosts started showing up.

#fuck it crossposting saturday #dp #danny phantom #ectocontamination #Amity Park: a nice place to exist #amity park

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userdogmeat · 7 months

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Terminal

@falloutober 10

cw: mentions of drug use

It had started off with a cough, just a small itch in the back of his throat that had been impossible to scratch. He’d chalked it up to the weather, cool autumn winds blowing in from the coast kicking up nuclear dust and ash that had squeezed his lungs the same way they had when he was small. John thought he would’ve grown out of it, the same way most of the tykes in Diamond City had, but this time had been different.

John was no idiot. He knew that the years of smoking were tarring his insides, that the pre-war Jet canisters he’d been inhaling were being cut more and more with brahmin shit by that dirtbag Fred, but this - this cough. Fuck, had it hurt like hell and no allergy, no bummed cigarette, no goddamn shit-filled Jet could’ve been the cause of a bark like that.

He tried to ignore it as best as he could, just as much he tried to ignore the growing concerns of the folks around him but as autumn had shifted to winter, the bitter pinch of cold in his lungs had become tighter, harsher, and impossible to ignore, bringing him to his knees and quickly into the care of Goodneighbor’s resident quack, much to his dismay.

“So, what’s the diagnosis, Doc?”

He almost scoffed at his own question. It was a cough and yeah, maybe, he’d coughed up a little blood here and there, but it was a cough. He’d caught a couple months long cold, it was allergies, it was -

“Eh, wouldn’t be surprised if it’s cancer.”

Oh.

“And y’know how that crap is, Johnny. Without any meds or surgery, that shit’s dermal or whatever.”

Maybe this is what the people of Goodneighbor got for allowing one of the few literate junkies to read the only medical books they had and title him doctor.

“Terminal.”

“Yeah, what I said or maybe it’s that uh - concession? Contemptuous?”

“Consumption.”

“That’s right, cumdumpshun. Nasty shit, really. M’sorry, Johnny, but you’d be real lucky to last through winter if it’s either.”

His thoughts ran wild, nails picking at what little pleather was left of his chair as he tried to adjust his thoughts to that maybe - just maybe, this stupid fucker who didn’t have a shred of bedside manners might just be right. It made sense. He was dying - he had to be dying.

He’d lost so much weight over the last few weeks that he’d had to tie his pants with shoelaces to keep them up, his knees had ached more, so much so that he could barely make a few steps without needing to sit and choke for air. And it seemed as if no amount of Med-X pumped into his system could provide him the pain relief he so desperately needed.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

John McDonough was dying.

“Is there - is there anything I can do?”

“To not die? Shiieeeet, Johnny. I don’t reckon you can, other than maybe make yourself comfortable or - well, you could like - ,” the fucker paused to laugh, shaking his head with whatever dumb suggestion he was concocting in his burntout head, “you could turn yerself into a ghoul or sumthin’.”

Oh?

Now that was a thought. A stupid fucking thought but definitely a thought.

“And pray-tell, doc, how would I go about doing something like that?”

John grit his teeth at Doc’s callous shrug. Fucker. He was dying and this asshole was suggesting the impossible. There was no such thing as an intentional ghoul, not at least to John’s knowledge. Every single ghoul that John had met had either been two centuries in the making or some idiot who had been exposed to radiation over time, lots and lots of time that John just didn’t have.

John needed something quick, something fast and easy to take the pain away, something to soothe this tickle in his throat and pinch in his chest. Christ, all of this shit was making his skin itch and his head hurt. He needed a fucking fix, right here and right now.

He ran his hands through his hair, desperate to soothe his nerves, “I can’t do this right now. I need a fucking fix.”

“A fix? Now that’s sumthin’ I can help you out with, brother!”

Before John could make his requests: Jet, Jet, and well, more Jet. Doc was rifling through his cabinets and tossing him a small vile.

“Now I ain’t ever tried this and m’not quite sure what exactly it’ll do to ya but s’pose you’ve got nuthin’ to lose, huh, Johnny?”

He stared down at the vile, its contents a viscous bile green liquid that emanated a warmth through the vile’s glass and into his palm. It didn’t take an idiot to realize that whatever Doc had tossed him was burning with radiation.

“Bet ya it’s a high like no other.”

“Yeah.” John nodded as he stared into the sunken in eyes of his own reflection that shone back on the glass and he could see his own expression. It wasn’t a look of despair that looked up at him but anticipation.

A high like no other.

It better be worth it.

#apologies for reposting and probably spamming the HELL out of you falloutober i am still figuring out how to post my works #falloutober #john hancock #john hancock fo4 #john hancock fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 #userdogmeat creates #falloutober 2023 #falloutober2023

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