#and whether it was about the brutality of the red room

[girlonthefireescape]

When is the Red Room "graduation ceremony"?

So I read a quote by Florence Pugh that said that the Red Room graduation ceremony takes place when the girls are around 8 years old. Is that right?

Does anybody know if this is supported by the movie canon? (Or even the comic books? Because I'm not familiar with those and as far as I know, the hysterectomy bit is a movie addition, anyway?)

I'm just wondering because I want to know if the implication here is supposed to be that they undergo the hysterectomy before going through puberty.

Cause if they had their ovaries removed prior to puberty, wouldn't that mess with hormone production and thus the onset and regular timeline of puberty? I'm a humanities major, so this is not my area of expertise at all, but just based on what I've researched so far, I'm like, huh, wouldn't this fuck with way more than their ability to menstruate/become pregnant? Like, even if they went through this at 17 or 18yo, they'd go into immediate early menopause, which would also fuck with their bodies.

Or are we just supposed to suspend our disbelief here? Which, okay, I guess? (Also, yes, Whedon threw this in and he's an idiot.) But if there is canon info I'm missing, I'd really like to know! So if anybody has thoughts/info on this!

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader has transferred into cerena's body, isekai-ed reader, mentions of death, language, suggestive, explicit smut (not between reader and gojo though lmaosgfj), themes of classism

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 2: THE TUNNELS

“Do not touch me,” your deathly warning stills the entire room. “Do not speak to me like this and if you wish to protect her reputation—”

Your eyes fall on the maid still cowering on the floor, her eyes turned to the ground, but a shadow of a smirk on her face belies her true intentions. 

She was attempting to frame me… or, Cerena. She is trying to get us in trouble with this powerful, spiteful man. 

“Next time, choose someone else who doesn’t make it obvious that this is all a ploy to smear my name.”

Such words falling from your lips take you aback because they don’t belong in your day-to-day vocabulary, but in this instant, it feels right to throw them in his face.

You turn your back on his gaping, surprised expression, picking up the hem of your gown to make your graceful departure. But, as you sweep your gaze over the sweeping stone pillars touching the ceiling and the scaglia flooring which looks so out of place with your perception of what reality is, you find yourself faltering, looking at one of the maids for help.

“Where is my room?” you stammer, drawing more of their confusion and adding to the disarray of this already convoluted scene. 

The man glares at you, looking you up and down as if he is trying to piece together your odd behavior. 

“What do you mean you don’t know where your room is?” 

Chagrin and embarrassment well up inside your chest, staining your cheeks, and you clear your throat. 

“I… seem to have misplaced my bearings today. I do not feel well. Could someone please lead me to my chambers?”

A second of agonizing silence engulfs the entire room. Then, a mousy, brown-haired maid steps forward, bowing graciously. 

“Let me take you to your chambers, milady.”

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Preparing to follow her, your path is once more blocked by this infuriating man who will not relent in drawing out your humiliation.

Darkness settles in those clear, azure eyes, and his jaw is clenched, though he doesn’t put his hands on you again.

“We are not done speaking about this yet, Cerena. I will make you own up to your mistake… whether you like it or not.”

Paralyzed to one spot, you watch as he departs from your side to kneel down and gently gather the maid in his arms, guiding her to her feet as he speaks to her in low tones, a look of endearment and tenderness softening the harsh edges of his azure eyes. 

It hits you then like a lightning bolt.

He is obviously and irrevocably head over heels in love with that simple maid.

The jarring change of his temperament from blatant vengefulness to tender consideration shocks you to the core, numbing your entire body with the prejudice and injustice of it all, freezing you to the spot. 

“Milady?” The maid who volunteered to lead you back to your chambers approaches you carefully, interrupting you from your ruminations. “Shall we?” 

You nod after a moment, dazed, and turn your back on the vile memories of the spectacle you were forced to endure, following behind her silently.

The sound of your heels on the red limestone floor echo in the solitary quiet, and you fidget with your hands. Eventually, your curiosity wins and you clear your throat, getting her attention.

“I apologize that you had to see that.”

To your surprise, the maid chokes back a gasp, quickly darting her eyes to the ground when you turn your gaze to her. 

“It is fine, milady,” she stammered, lacing her fingers together in a tight grip; you notice she is trembling slightly, and unable to look you in the eye for longer than a few seconds. 

“You seem afraid of me.” 

You meant it as an observation, but to her, it was a reprimand. She bows her head a few times, shoulders tight and tense with fear.

“I apologize, milady. I will do better next time. I will not—”

“Hey, hey,” you reach out to grab her arms, your voice low and soothing; trying to earn her trust. “Calm down. I am not going to scold you. I am just… stating a fact. Why are you so afraid of me?” 

Her lower lip trembles and her brown eyes shift from you again, onto the red stone floor.

“Milady… you’re… not well known for being the most patient princess in the realm. And you love to berate and belittle the people who work for you. We are all trying our best to accommodate you, Your Highness, so please, cut us some slack and we will show you how devoted we are to the crown and to your wellbeing.”

It’s a trained answer, one she recites from the top of her head like a prayer of mercy. 

You drop your hands, aware that your bizarre attitude may be scaring her. 

“I am… sorry. Please. Accept my apologies. I did not sense I was being unreasonable.”

Her surprise is a palpable emotion that sweeps across her face, and she actually gasps, taken aback by your heartfelt apology.

“Milady, it’s… please, do not apologize to me! I am but a lowly servant and you should—you should not demean yourself like that—”

“It’s alright,” you stop her refusal with a sheepish wave of your hands, attempting to soothe her misgivings. “I have done you wrong and I wish to take accountability over it. I truly am apologetic for… my behavior.”

The young woman looks at you like she’s never seen you before, her eyes wide and unflinching. 

“What is your name?” You inquire politely, and the look of surprise in those coffee brown eyes deepen. Somewhere, shimmering in its depths, you see a hint of respect and reverence.

“Elara, milady.” 

You nod, forcing a kind smile so as not to petrify her further with your raging confusion and stuttering awkwardness. 

“Elara. A beautiful name. Could I ask you a few questions—and please, be as truthful as you can when you answer them.”

She doesn’t hesitate to nod, the fear guarding her heart easing slightly, allowing her defenses to weaken. 

Your inquisitiveness is at an undeniable peak, and you need to whet your suspicions or else you would go insane.

“Who was that man from earlier? The one who claims we are engaged?”

The young woman fails to temper her look of obvious confoundment, slowing her pace so she can tilt her head to the side and regard you.

“Milady, are you feeling unwell?” 

Her concern ticks you towards an internal panic. Your laughter sounds strained even to your own ears, and you shake your head, struggling to come up with a viable excuse. 

“I suppose… The chill of today is making me foggy.”

Elara purses her lips, noting your look of disarray, but doesn’t keep the information you seek from you.

“That man is your betrothed, milady. The Crowned Prince of the Northern Haleway—Prince Gojo Satoru. You both have been engaged for a very long time, since the tender age of nine, and are set to be married this following year.”

Immediately, your stomach sinks to your toes, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

A crowned prince? 

Betrothed and married by this year?

You? 

The questions swirled in your mind like a raging tempest, and you must’ve worried her with your stunned silence for she stopped in mid-stride, reaching out to tap your shoulder.

“Milady?” 

You shake your head, trying to tame the panic down before it could consume you and you would fall to your knees, shaking and sobbing from the uncontrollable fear.

“Wh… who am I?” 

This time, she gasps, unable to hold back her dread when she hears your question, her brown eyes wavering with fear. 

“Milady, shall I fetch for the physician?” 

Her tone rises up a decibel, and you shush her, shaking your head vehemently. Spotting a relatively hidden alcove, you grab her arm and tug her into the secluded spot, her bright, brown eyes shining with confusion even in the dim lighting of this dark nook.

“Please. Trust me when I say this—I have no idea who I am, where I am or who everyone else is around here. I’m not from this world. I am not from this land. My name is Y/N, and I am not this Princess Cerena or person you think I am.”

Elara gapes, unable to believe her ears. She gives you a probing look, as if to determine if you were trying to pull her leg.

But, when your gaze doesn’t falter for a single second, she takes one step back, a look of horror bleeding across her features.

“Impossible. This is… how can you… what do you mean you are not from this world?” 

You take a deep breath and try your best to explain your side of this confusion.

“The last thing I remember before waking up in the middle of the prince’s tantrum was a man hitting me over my head to steal my purse. He was a thief and he—” your voice shakes, all the tension and confusion coalescing into a tight ball underneath your throat, triggering your desperate tears which you try so hard to fight off. 

“—he left me to die in an alleyway. I thought I was dead… that my life was over, but then, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was… Satoru, you said? Yes. The first thing I saw was him. Satoru. I’ve never met him before in my life.”

Elara is dumbfounded, that much you can expect. But, she doesn’t refute your words. 

Believing you without a single shred of doubt.

Was Cerena such an awful person that even a bit of kindness can sway her to my side?

Your thoughts are loud, ricocheting around the recesses of your mind and you wait for her to believe you. 

Elara eventually dips her head forward, absorbing your words. 

“I… have faith in your words, milady.” Her gaze is scrutinizing. “You are different, there is no doubt about that. Your words, your expressions, certain phrases you use. You are not Lady Cerena, and for that, I believe it is a blessing.”

She clasped her hands in front of her body, having relieved herself of the burdensome thoughts shrouding her mind.

Without preamble or a word in from you, she gestures towards the end of the hallway, showering you with some much needed kindness you didn’t know you were desperate for until she gives you a wry smile. Your heart squeezes longingly in your chest. 

“Come. You must be tired from your… journey. I will prepare your room and then, you may rest.” 

For an hour after that, you sit around in your room, bored to death.

There wasn’t much to do in a world like this besides wearing pretty dresses, lounge around and being alert for any strange sounds coming from outside the hardwood doors.

Your bed is lavishly decorated with the best wool these lands could offer, warm yet cool under your touch to insulate you from the mountainous chill. A peek inside Cerena’s closet confirms that most of the treasury money her parents must’ve sent down to Northern Haleway went to these carefully crafted pieces of organza, lace and encrusted jewels upon mountains of sheer and gossamer dresses. Even her cloaks were of the highest quality—mink and lambskin leather, tailored to fit her body perfectly. 

Like a diabetic in a candy store, you excitedly shift through the elaborate pieces, feeling their fine workmanship. Many of them were low cut and sleeveless, intended to show off her petite shoulders and defined collarbones. It was obvious she had an eye for such aesthetic advantages. 

Having seen yourself in the mirror, you conclude that Cerena is one of, if not, the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life.

With her cascading, naturally-tinted strawberry blonde curls and fine nose, her visage could easily strike admiration in hearts around the world, no matter where her dainty feet took her.

In contrast, you were less feminine and refined than her, a paltry shadow in the face of such regal beauty that you flinched and eventually stepped away from the mirror, as if looking at another woman’s reflection for too long may scorch you. 

Choosing to lay listlessly on the bed, you weren’t used to such free time on your hands.

Back in your home world, you would be using this ample stretch of relaxation to clean up your apartment, cook, or perhaps, even get started on another bouquet arrangement you often did for your friends at no cost.

Your eyes slip close, though sleep struggles to find you.

Eventually, you’re driven to your feet, tired of this fatiguing ennui weighing heavily on your shoulders. 

Slipping your feet into a pair of fine satin slippers, you ditch the loud heels for whispery footsteps on the stone floor, taking this opportunity to explore the castle. 

You touch the cool stones, feeling the heat from the sconces above bathe your skin with a warm glow. The castle is structured in such a way that the winding hallways and open windows brought in as much natural sunlight as possible. Stopping shy of a larger balcony, you step outside and feel the cool air grazing your cheeks. 

Northern Haleway’s stronghold was located up a steep foothill. Below, as far as the eye could see, lay craggily rocks and sharp jagged cliffs which would kill anyone upon impact.

You shudder at such natural magnificence, and force your feet to take you down the hallway, every step echoing softly behind you.

For such a big castle, there weren’t many around, and you supposed this wing where Cerena lived was explicitly ordered to be emptied for the sake of the princess’ unstable mood swings.

I wonder… where can I find the throne room…

You had only ever seen such regalia in picture books and movies. A part of you wanted to witness it in real time; to see if the sheer splendor matches your imagination. 

However, as you cross the threshold into an elaborate sitting room, you hear whispers and movement from the other end of a closed door. 

Curious and hesitant at the same time, you let your inquisitiveness get the best of you, taking one step closer to the elaborate doorway, pressing your ear to the wainscoted surface.

“... mhm… oh… Satoru…”

Your ears burn and you smother a gasp with your open palm. 

Muffled grunts could be heard from the other end of the door, and a sinking feeling rests heavily in your gut.

The lewd sounds were unmistakable. You could easily picture the ghastly, horrid man from before, with his towering height and broad shoulders, ramming the entirety of his cock inside the maid’s smaller, but willing body. 

Her cries echo feebly, laced with ecstasy and pleasure.

Without warning, you feel someone touching your elbow and nearly squeak, if it weren’t for Elara’s wide brown eyes dominating your vision. Catching your composure in time, you bite your lower lip hard enough to taste blood, hoping to every god above that the prince and his lover did not catch your slip up.

“Milady—” 

You shush her with a finger to your lips, shaking your head frantically. Elara takes your cue and quietens, those coffee hues widening when she picks up on the same sounds you were eavesdropping on.

Her mouth falls open wider, a scandalized look taking over her features. 

Satoru and Miri find respite in reaching their peak at the same time, their desperate gasps and moans twining as one. You hear them kiss passionately, and it makes your gut turn to think that the same man Cerena is engaged to is so blatantly flaunting his affair right in the very same castle she lived in.

Anger rises inside of you, dark and tarry like a bubbling vat of acid.

No matter how horrible a woman was painted to be, she did not deserve this treatment from someone claiming to be her fiancé. 

You were upset on Cerena’s behalf, especially when the heir himself chuckled, a low and disturbing sound. 

“I cannot believe she stalked away from you with such boldness,” Miri muttered huskily, obviously trying to further seed this divide between Satoru and Cerena.

The man in question hummed, as if the idea of insulting and sullying the name of his future wife and queen barely ruffled his composure.

“She will pay for what she has done. I will not tolerate such rudeness and discourtesy, especially since she knows you mean a lot more to me than she does.”

You shiver at the conviction and contempt in his tone. Glancing at Elara, you note that she too seems engrossed in the conversation, unable to peel her ear off the hardwood. 

Miri laughs, light and breezy, though what she says next chills you right to the bone.

“She seemed even more agitated today. I suppose she really is coming to her senses and is close to realizing that she has lost you, Your Highness. And as we all know, Princess Cerena can never lose.”

Her words drip with sarcasm and resentment, feeding the flames of Satoru’s vengefulness. 

“That idiotic woman. I despise her very being,” he mutters haughtily. “Every time she opens her mouth, I wish to never hear her voice again. To wipe her from my memories and remove her from my presence. It is not enough that I am to be wedded to her, but my father seems adamant on pushing Cerena onto me like an unwanted gift.” 

Miri hums. “And her attitude must not be very pleasant as well, isn’t it, my love?”

Satoru barks a laugh, like she’s just uttered the funniest thing his twisted mind could conjure.

“Pleasant? Cerena? Those two words can never exist in a singular sentence. No, she is not pleasant. In fact, she is the opposite of pleasant. She is an insolent, vicious and repulsive creature. If only I could, I will teach her a lesson so she will understand that this world is only tolerable to her because she is a princess. I wish to hurt her in ways she can never fathom and destroy her until no man would ever want her again.” 

Horror steals the last of your thoughts. A warm hand clasps around your fingers and you realize Elara is lending you her strength. 

You are suddenly aware of how badly your hands are shaking. 

Miri giggles, as if her lover’s words are music to her ears. 

“Have you given thought to the suggestion I raised before? To kill the princess?” 

Your breathing stops, and Elara flickers her gaze to you, eyes wide and wavering.

Kill… Cerena? 

He wouldn’t do that, would he? 

Your trembles become harder to control. You have no idea what this man is capable of, and for the first time in your life, you are terrified of the power he wields, indomitable compared to yours. 

The horrifying reminder comes to you in a flash. 

This was a different world, one where men ruled and women obeyed. 

You knew enough from the movies and books to understand that if a man wanted you dead in this era, it would be by his law and his alone. 

Satoru echoes her sentiments with a chuckle. 

“You really are hellbent on me getting rid of her, aren’t you?” 

You can almost imagine Miri’s pout. 

“She is the only thing standing in between the two of us from being together. Don’t you want to get rid of that?” 

You gape, astounded by her boldness. This… this bitch! 

You can’t believe the treason you’re hearing—for surely, it is treason to want a princess dead, especially for a commoner to speak such words. 

Elara seems to be of the same opinion, her quivering lips weighing into a downturn grimace. 

Satoru’s lazy laughter grates your ears, and you listen in for what he has to say next.

Please, you beg internally; hoping for someone to hear your desperate plea and prayer for this man to see reason and be merciful. Please, have a heart for this woman whose body I am inhabiting and do not harm her. 

Your flimsy hopes break upon impact, like a sandcastle succumbing to a wave in one fell swoop.

“I promise I will get rid of her,” Satoru’s conviction punches you right in the gut, leaving you breathless and in despair. “I promise that once she is dead, I will wed you and we will be together, my love. Forever. You have my word.” 

You stagger backwards, unable to listen anymore.

Tearing out of the room as quietly as your footsteps can take you, you hear Elara’s faint footfalls following behind. Her grip on your arm is steady, supporting your shaking knees.

“Milady—”

Out of earshot from the vile man and his wicked maid, you finally reveal the true fear corrupting your soul.

“Elara, please. You have to get me out of this castle.”

Her face pales, throwing her freckles into stark view. 

“Milady, I-I can’t. To hide a princess is considered high treason—”

“Please,” you choked, grasping her arms, your eyes wild with fright. “You heard what the prince said. You heard what he promised. If he fulfills it, I will die here. Please. You have to help me.”

You weren’t above getting on your knees to clutch at her skirt, begging and pleading for your life. Luckily, Elara would never make you commit such an atrocity.

Her thin hands grasp yours, her mousy face filled with a fiery determination you’ve never seen a woman possess.

“I may know a place to hide you. Follow me, princess.”

She leads you straight to the other end of the castle, pushing open a heavy wooden door. It’s the maids quarters and there, she fetches a plain cloak, throwing it on your shoulders and fastening it around your throat. 

“Make sure your hood is always pulled up,” she warned, beckoning you to follow her.

You pass rows upon rows of straw beds with crumpled linen sheets, aghast at the state of the help’s sleeping area. The squalor fills you with anger, especially when you compare it to the lavish beddings of Princess Cerena’s room.

Is this what the royal family allows? You seethe internally. Such pitiable states of living were reserved for animals, not humans who devoted their entire lives to serving the crown. 

But, you don’t have much time to ruminate on the anger bubbling inside of you, following Elara’s silhouette through another door. She brings you into a labyrinth-like hallway barely illuminated by greasy old sconces, gesturing for you to follow her. 

There is nothing you can do than to put your faith in this young, kind maid as she leads you from one winding path to another, her footsteps light and sure. 

A rat scampered somewhere to your left and you shriek, earning a timely glare from Elara who shushes you. 

Contrite, you swallow your unease and trail behind her like a ghostly woman of the night.

Eventually, the winding paths turn straighter, and there is another door in the distance.

This one is heavier than the last, as if meant to guard the inhabitants from something outside; or to keep them confined within.

It takes the both of you to push it wide, and when the door finally creaks open, you’re hit with a face full of cold, biting air.

Elara doesn’t waste any time, grabbing your wrist and tugging you forward. 

“Come on. I know a woman who will help you. She lives in a nearby forest.”

You huff, trying to keep up with her. 

All around you, standing like stalwart giants, towering pine trees press close, shrouding the behemothian castle from view, their sharp scent stinging your nostrils. Elara’s pulse is thudding against your fingers, a rapid fire rate that fills you with both determination and dread. 

“What was that?” You call above the rushing of your fleeing, sensing it was safe to speak now.

She glanced back at you, lips in a thin line.

“The castle tunnels. It’s barely functional, but we use it sometimes to receive bulkier goods without being seen on the main floors.” 

She guides you further into the forest, and you sense this isn’t the right time for questions. Elara makes you jump over a tiny, bubbling brook, and you were glad for swapping out your heels for these manageable slippers. 

Finally, after what feels like hours dashing through the thickening forest with nothing but foliage and the cold air whipping your hair into a disarray, Elara stops you shy of a clearing.

Inside the circle is a tiny hut, smoke spewing out of its brick red chimney.

She doesn’t hesitate to walk to the door, knocking on it. When there is no reply, she does it again, firmly this time, and you wait with bated breath for whoever is on the other side to reveal themselves.

The lock clicks and your heart constricts. 

An elderly woman with unruly, white hair, pries the door open, her crinkled face frowning when she sees Elara.

“Dear? Whatever are you doing here?”

Her wizened, rheumy eyes move to you, and her gaze becomes sharper.

“Who is this?” 

“Nana, this is a friend,” Elara muttered, grasping my elbow and tugging me forward. “Her name is—”

“Y/N,” you supply immediately, giving her a subtle shake of your head. You would rather the older woman did not know your true identity. “It is a pleasure to meet you…”

You trail off, waiting for her to introduce herself.

Elara’s grandmother purses her thin lips, and shifts her gaze from her granddaughter to this suspiciously noble looking woman.

“Aeva,” she finally answered. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

Once reassured that her grandmother would not react badly, Elara gives her a rundown of your situation. The older woman listens carefully, never once interrupting her granddaughter. 

After gathering her thoughts, she makes a swift decision, nodding and gesturing to you to come closer.

For a split second, she skims her gaze up and down your body, noting your pink curls, the clean look of your skin and nails. 

“If you are to stay here with me, no one can know your true identity… Princess.” 

Elara flinched, like a child caught in the middle of a lie. In reaction to her granddaughter’s flimsy attempt to hide the truth, Aeva shoots her a smug smile.

“Trying to fool an old woman who has tasted more salt of the earth than you—not a wise move, young lady.” 

But, she doesn’t prod or scold her any further. 

Her attention lands on you again, and her thin lips quirk downward into a heavy frown.

“If you want to stay here, you need to work, my dear. No slacking off, and definitely no people to attend to you at your beck and call. Can you bear that?” 

Bless her heart. She doesn’t sense the difference in you, thinking you’re nothing more than a spoiled, childish princess.

Eagerly and without a second thought, you nod. 

“Yes. I understand. I will help you with any chores you need. I am good at cooking and taking care of a hearth. You need not worry about my reliability.”

Aeva's expression wavers and she shoots Elara an amused look.

“Alright then, Princess. We shall see if your words ring true.”

Elara gives you a tight smile, one which you return. Recognizing the confidence and reassurance she was trying to instill in you.

“Take heart, Princess,” her words soothe you. 

“You will be safe here.”

Days had passed since Satoru had last seen you in the annex hallway, the memory of his confrontation with you still fresh in his mind. 

As hard as he tries to ignore the chiming in his head to check up on you, to seek you out and ensure you're not sulking or throwing another nasty fit, he's grateful for the quiet your absence gives him. 

Miri visits his chambers almost every day, giving her body to him and warming his sheets till the morning sun illuminates the red stone floors. As he watches the rays touch her face, he traces her features softly, wishing for nothing more in the world than to do this for the rest of his life.

His love for Miri came as an anchor, providing him a lifeline when he thought he had lost everything his heart had to offer.

Though he feels it unfair to indulge in her fantasies of some day getting rid of you, Satoru can’t deny that there’s a certain appeal to that idea.

Removing his brash and volatile fiancé, and replacing her with a woman far gentler, graceful and courteous—Satoru thinks it’s Miri who should bear his ring upon her finger. Be the woman he wakes up to every morning despite her lowly status and economic standing.

Some people were more suited for the life of a royalty, and he is of the opinion that compared to you, Miri far exceeds the idea of what it means to be a Princess while you, in all your snobbishness and arrogance, deserved to be at the bottom of the barrel. 

Encompassing his mindset as a whole, Satoru feels a certain fragile peace he hasn't encountered in a long while, though it all shatters one morning when his father, King Satoshi, calls him into the throne room.

Magnificent and intimidating in one breath, the great King Gojo Satoshi sits regally on his throne, the seat beside him stingingly empty. 

Satoru doesn’t let his gaze linger on where his mother used to sit, instead, bowing deeply when he catches his father’s eye, awaiting his next words. 

“Arise, son.”

The heir apparent to Northern Haleway straightens his back, azure eyes flinty and guarded.

“Father. You requested for me.”

Satoshi nods, his expression unreadable. 

“Son, I need to ask you a question.”

Satoru steels himself for an unexpected request or a test of his allegiance; both options having been given before by his rigid and non-permissive father.

But, what his father asks next renders him stupefied and breathless, thrown completely off kilter.

“Satoru… where is your Princess?”

The young man feels his palms dampening with sweat. In response, he scoffs, shaking his head.

“Cerena? I have not seen her, Father. Why do you inquire?” 

His affectionless response does not sit well with the older Gojo, who bristles and deepens his glare.

“You mean to tell me you do not care that your fiancé—who, by the way, hasn’t been seen for the past two days—has disappeared, and you’re questioning why I'm asking you about it?”

Anger drips from his accusing question, and Satoru schools his expression into neutrality, unwilling to give away his true emotions of mirth and relief. 

Cerena is missing… she hasn’t been seen for two whole days… is this the Gods answering my prayers? 

Satoshi, clearly angered and insulted by his son’s lack of haste and concern, sits back against his throne, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“Satoru, I am putting you in charge of the search party for the princess. If the kingdom of Kraith—Cerena’s parents—were to know that she is lost, there will be tragic repercussions for our country. You have to find her and bring her back. Am I making myself clear?” 

Satoru stiffened at the implications of what would happen should the neighboring country uncover this slight. 

Trade contracts will be affected, livelihoods will be destroyed and the monetary resources Kraith offered through their bountiful grain industry would be in jeopardy. 

But, that’s not all at stake.

“If you fail to find her before this week’s end,” Satoshi continues, his turquoise eyes boring deeply into his son’s ones. “I will revoke your ascension to the throne and give it to your cousin, Yuuta. Is that what you desire?” 

Stiffly, Satoru shakes his head, shame and anger burning inside him like a brewing storm.

“No, Your Majesty.”

Apparently satisfied that his threats have hit their mark, Satoshi reclines into the oversized chair, his large hands curling around the bejeweled lion’s head knobs adorning the end of the throne’s arms.

“Good. I expect to hear news from you by this week’s end, Satoru.”

Taking that as his cue for dismissal, the young heir bows stiffly to his father before stepping out of the throne room. As he rounds the corner, he’s caught off guard by his lover, who darts from an alcove to block his path.

“What did he want?” Miri asks breathlessly.

Satoru frowns but doesn’t push her away, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of the gleaming regalia and military awards pinned to his lapels. The heavy burden of his princely duties leaves him feeling hopeless and worn down.

“He wants me to find her—Cerena—and bring her back or else he will give my cousin, Yuuta, the rites of ascension.”

Miri gasps, her face blanching. 

“He cannot do that!” 

“He can,” Satoru runs a hand down his face, expelling a tired sigh. “He is the King and he can do whatever he wants. I have to search for her. Cerena. I need to find her or else everything I’ve worked for will be in vain.”

Miri glances over her shoulder before she wraps her arms around him. 

Satoru takes comfort in her embrace, inhaling the soft scent of musk and jasmine floating from her hair. 

They stay like this for a while, two lovers holding onto each other as the differences in their standing and burdens remain determined to keep them apart. 

“It’s the perfect timing,” Miri suddenly gushes, pulling back just far enough so he can see the opportunity twinkling in her eyes. 

Satoru’s confusion only makes her laugh and she leans in closer, as if to impart a juicy secret.

“I have received word of a woman in the village that nobody has ever seen before. She walks around town always clad in a robe and with a hood pulled over her head. She barely speaks to anyone and when asked where she is from, she claims she is not from here. Doesn’t that spark your curiosity?”

A woman who insists on being cloaked and hidden… now that is intriguing indeed. 

The young prince feels a grin growing across his face, one tainted with a dawning realization.

Could it be…?

“And you suggest I follow your lead to meet this woman?” Satoru rests his broad palm on her waist, his thumb gently stroking her hip. Miri grins smugly and, unconcerned with any onlookers, leans in to whisper in his ear. Her warm breath sends a shiver down his spine.

“If that woman happens to be our princess, it would be the best chance we have of ending her without arousing any suspicion.”

Satoru’s expression wavers with something akin to regret, though he hides it the second her sparkling green eyes meet his own hooded blue ones. 

“Are you sure? You want me to end Cerena’s life?” 

Miri is firm in her ambitions, giving him a curt nod.

“Is it not what you desire, too? Cerena’s demise? With her gone, we can finally be together, my love.” 

She intertwines her fingers together with his, squeezing his hands fondly. “We can be free to love, to show each other affection, to openly court and to meet each other in broad daylight. Wouldn’t that be a delight to experience?” 

The images she paints in his mind are irresistible, and Satoru quickly forgets his earlier hesitation, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close against his body.

“Oh, Miri,” he growls, desire lacing his tone as she responds with an adorable giggle. “My beautiful mastermind—you are right. We need to strike while the opportunity is ripe.”

Satoru’s hand glides down her body, gently caressing her backside.

“The moment I see Cerena, I will keep my word and end her life.”

mtt fun fact: satoru is partial to dressing in darker colors to bring out the contrast of his white hair. it's done partially for vain aesthetics but also because he loves how the stark visual contrast tends to strike fear in his enemies hearts

dawn says: dun dun DUN .... anyone wanna bet that yn will beat his ass if he tries her 😏

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[daisies-daydreams]

TWST Housewardens During Your Period (Headcanons)

Header Credit: Disney Pairing: Multi Scenario x F!Reader Category: Fluff/Light Angst Tags: Depictions of Periods/PMS, Mentions of Body Issues, Physical Affection, Non-Sexual Nudity (Leona's Part), Vil/Leona Being Rude, Tooth-Rotting Fluff Word Count: 1.3k+ Summary: Your boyfriend helps you cope with that time of the month in his own way. A/N: I was inspired by my ancient Fire Force headcanons to make one for TWST! I hope you enjoy! 😊 (Headcanons below the cut)

Riddle Rosehearts, whose face gets as red as his hair when he realizes what you mean when you say you're experiencing "that time of the month". Sure, he's heard of periods...but he's not exactly well-equipped to help someone who has them.

He hesitantly asks for advice from his close friends, his arms crossed and gaze awkwardly shifting around the room. Despite the discomfort he feels talking about the subject, he wants to make sure his darling is well taken care of. You're surprised when he returns to you with every pad, tampon and cup known to mankind, stating that he's "ready to help".

His face grows even more red when you smile and kiss his cheek, telling him you appreciate his kind heart. After he gets more in a routine of helping you through your period, he'll start making you hot, fresh tea for you to sit back and relax with. He also enjoys reading to you, his voice lulling you to sleep as he smiles softly and kisses the top of your head.

༺♥༻

Leona Kingscholar, who is the embodiment of the "what pussy size you wear?" meme. But in all seriousness, he knows when it's getting closer to your time of the month since you'll want to cuddle more during his long nap sessions (not that he minds). He'll keep his strong arms curled around your stomach as the two of you spend a lazy day in bed.

While he initially starts your relationship with a "tough love" attitude, being with you during your period helps teach him how to be more empathetic and caring with his S/O. Leave it to Leona to accidentally say something insensitive, only for his ears to lower as you begin to cry or send a harsh, silent glare at him.

However, if there's one thing he is good at, it's making sure to spoil you with a nice, long bubble bath. He'll gently massage all the aches and knots out of your muscles before pulling you against him, his chin resting on top of your head as he relaxes with you after a long day (just don't be surprised if he falls asleep).

༺♥༻

Azul Ashengrotto, who grows worried when he finds you curled up on his couch in his private office at the Monstro Lounge. He frowned when you sniffed and told him you felt "fat", a sentiment he relates to a little too well (for different reasons, of course). He'll gently sit beside you, his voice calm and soothing as he gently reassures you that, no matter your size, you're absolutely gorgeous. Azul will remind you as many times as you need, whether it's ten or a thousand times.

Despite his divided attention between the lounge and his role at NRC, he's more than willing to set time aside to spend it with you. Whether you want to watch a movie, go to your favorite restaurant, or just rest in bed, he swears to be there for you as much as he can.

His favorite thing to do is surprise you by cleaning up for you (with a little help from two eel brothers, *cough* *cough*). Need your dishes done? They're washed, dried and put away. Laundry still in the hamper? It's already finished and hung up in your closet. Every surface of your living space is immaculate by the time he's done, and the look of relief on your face always giving him a soft, warm smile.

༺♥༻

Idia Shroud, who nearly passes out when you message him that you're experiencing the most brutal cramps of your life and you ran out of pads and pain medicine at the worst possible time. Being the amazing boyfriend that he is, he opted to disguise himself to go in public and buy you some (sunglasses and all).

Despite not telling you, he went ahead and created an app that keeps track of your ovulation cycle. Not to be weird...but to make sure he's kept up-to-date on what to expect and when he's going to preorder your favorite snacks, pads/tampons/cups, and other essentials (Side Note: I stand by the headcanon that he gets his S/O plushies to cheer them up).

If you're into anime like him, he'll make sure you're nice and comfy on his bed with a heating pad before putting on your favorite show. Of course, he loves to snuggle with you beneath his blankets during this (he'll be a blushing mess all over again if you chose to give him forehead/temple kisses during your watch party, but he'll always return those kisses in kind).

༺♥༻

Malleus Draconia...who has no idea what to do. Lilia never quite got around to explaining it to him other than "the basics", so he's left completely in the dark until you came along. His face grows even more pale as you explain how painful your period is with cramps, bloating, and other uncomfortable symptoms you struggled with. His heart aching for his beloved enduring such a thing.

He seemed a bit taken aback when Lilia looked a little uncomfortable when he nagged him for every detail about a woman's menstrual cycle, to which the Fae replied with "every woman is different" and elaborated a bit on some pointers.

The next day, Malleus appeared on your doorstep with a few grocery bags and an averted gaze. Your smile made his reluctance dissipate as you pulled out all sorts of goodies: candy, a homemade heating pad, and even a small dragon plushie! His expression is much more confident when you thank him for the gifts. Now whenever it's your time of the month, Malleus has a stock pile of blankets, heating pads, and other essentials ready to make a warm nest of comfort for you.

༺♥༻

Vil Schoenheit, who (at first) judges you for letting your skincare routine lapse...only to quickly backtrack when you start sobbing and tell him you're on your period. He quickly makes up for it by buying you several decadent flower bouquets and chocolate covered strawberries the very next day, a sweet apology card also included in the bounty of goodies.

Since Vil is more focused on wellbeing, he won't always buy you sweet or salty food you may crave during your period. He'll get you plenty of water and fruit, though, and make sure to keep you motivated with compliments and praise if you're experiencing negative moods (he may go overboard from time to time, though you don't mind).

One day, while he was away filming a new TV show, you found a intricately decorated care package on your doorstep filled with everything you'll need. It became a tradition from then on (whether he was out filming or not) to send these personal packages, each including a heartfelt, hand-written note that remind you just how beautiful and amazing you are.

༺♥༻

Kalim Al-Asim, who pampers you endlessly. He has over thirty siblings, many of which (I assume) are girls, so he'd have a good understanding of periods. So when he finds you hiding beneath your covers with a heating pad draped over your stomach, he knows it's time to spoil you.

Do you want/need a massage? Hon, he's already got the lavender oil on hand. Mani-pedi? If he won't do it for you, he'll do it with you at the spa! And while he grew up wealthy, he's not afraid to hand-feed you your favorite food (especially since he gets to see your sweet smile).

Kalim is also mentally and emotionally ready to help you process your shifting moods during your time of the month. Even if you snap at him, he's always quick to forgive you. He has a box of tissues in his room ready to go as he gently rubs your back as you sob, reassuring you that you're not alone and he loves you so, so much. And he always will.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobbsessed @8xbygirl @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lyrasdrawer @mcmiracles @genma-support-group @rattybimbo @rinyukaa

Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below! (MUST BE 18 OR OLDER)

[macabr3-barbi3]

a little messy, a little brutal (Vox/Reader)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54917902

Vox is not subtle about the things he considers to be 'his.' (Inspired by Yandere by Jazmin Bean ❤️🩵)

Tags: Yandere; Obsessive Vox; possessive Vox; Possessive Sex; Homicide? Minor Character Death; Minor Violence; Couch Sex; Cunnilingus

<3<3<3<3<3<3

You can already imagine the twitch of Vox’s hypnotic eye as a demon approaches you in the dark corner of the club you had taken up. You had specifically chosen a section of the club that was not well-illuminated and out of the way precisely to avoid having to talk to anyone else until your friend arrived and yet, here you were. Preparing to fend off the advances of some lowlife sinner while your patience for public outings like this dwindled ever lower.

Velvette had invited you out with the other Vees and they were all running late- some tantrum that Valentino was throwing, no doubt, since that usually seemed to be the cause for any hold ups involving them. 

You almost feel sorry for the lizard demon slinking his way over to you, beady eyes bright and interested as he watches where you’re perched on a table. Since you had started hanging out with Velvette (and by association, Vox and sometimes Valentino), demons that took an unreciprocated or unwelcome interest in you ended up not being around any longer- whether that meant dead or moved to another department was none of your business. All of the Vees denied any involvement with these disappearances, naturally, and Val was the only one that you really believed, but Vox was… not subtle about it. At all. A word of insult or unsolicited advance directed to you and he would step out of the room with an arm around the offending party, coming back a few minutes later alone, his hands shoved into his pockets, his red eye twitching in annoyance before he fixed his stare on you for the rest of the evening or whatever amount of time you remained in his presence. 

The twitch was cute. When you hung out in Vel’s studio and her models came over to talk to you, you could almost feel the intensity of his expression glitching out across the room. If you initiated conversation or didn’t seem offended or put out by the person he would leave them alone- it was only once they became disrespectful that he or Velvette would take matters over. No one ever put their hands on you, so a little teasing directed at the TV demon was entertaining. And seeing Vox get all flustered and twitchy because you were talking to someone was always a fun time, even if he wouldn’t make a move.

The lizard reaches you and immediately slides his scaly tail around your calf, the sensation sending a grimace onto your face. “What’sss a pretty gal like you doin’ lurking in the darknesssss?”

“Waiting for my friends. Please don’t touch me.” When his tail doesn’t remove itself you reach down and unravel it manually, not missing the way that his eyes dart to the vee of your neckline when you do so.

“Sssurely you can be convinced to sspend time with… ssssomeone elssse.” He leers at you suggestively.

“Look, buddy,” you say, not sure when the Vees would be arriving but knowing that it would be some time soon- and that not one of them would appreciate this demon’s hands on you. Not that you did either. “I’m trying to do you a favor. My friends? You don’t wanna be here when they get here.”

He slides a clawed hand around your waist, tall enough with your position on the table to be able to accomplish such a move. It feels slimy and uncomfortable even through the shirt you wear. “So let’ssss leave before they come, baby.” His other hand comes to rest on your thigh, sharp nails poking through the fabric of your jeans. “I can sssshow you a good time.”

You wouldn’t even need to wait for Vox to get here to do something drastic. You shove the lizard back, his claws leaving jagged tears in your bottoms from the force he had gripped you. Hopping off the table, you push him again. “Back the fuck off,” you snarl at him, and rather than taking the hint and fucking off to literally anywhere else, he doubles down. 

He crowds you back against the table, the harsh edge of it digging into your back as he grabs your shoulders. “Playin’ hard to get, huh?” The smile he gives you is nasty and mean. “Ssssure, doll, we can play it that way.” His forked tongue snakes out and flicks against the column of your throat, and the feeling makes bile rise.

You bare your teeth, sharp fangs glinting in the little amount of light that reaches the corner you’re in. He’s leaning in and you flash your claws, ready to get yourself kicked out of this club if you have to defend yourself when there’s a spray of warm liquid across your chest, the shock of it making you freeze with your hands clenched into fists.

The lizard has frozen as well, and a glance down reveals the source of the distraction. A claw tipped hand has found its way through the lizard’s chest, and once you’ve noticed it it retreats back into the cavity that it’s created. You look over the shoulder of the demon, who has now, thankfully, softened his grip on you, and meet Vox’s eyes.

As well as you can between the glitches that overtake his screen, anyway. His face is flashing in and out with error messages, red eye huge and swirling with the flow of his anger through his system, mouth set into a harsh sneer. An arch of electricity travels down his arm and the lizard seizes up, static sparking off his body as Vox electrocutes him from the inside. This is followed by smoke as something catches fire inside the demon, and Vox pulls his hand back, blood dripping from his fingers as Val tries to place a reassuring hand on his back, jerking away at the shock that strikes him. 

The lizard drops to the floor, a gently flaming mass that someone is already rushing over to extinguish, and Vox steps around his discarded body to wrap his hand entirely around your forearm, jerking you away from the table and into his chest, arms wrapping possessively around your body. He’s muttering into your scalp, screen so close that you can feel the static lifting your hair strands up, and Velvette is bitching at the club employee that’s come over to clear up the newly christened corpse. Valentino is watching Vox cling to you. “Easy, baby, she’s fine.” He reaches a hand out like he means to pat you on the head, and Vox’s head snaps back at him, teeth bared and snarling like a feral animal. Val jerks his hand back with his eyebrows raised. “Message received, hands off!” He goes to join Velvette in her berating, throwing Vox an annoyed look as he walks away.

Vox is silent for a moment, and you finally release the tension in your fists to place lightly on his back. You hadn’t expected anything like this- not so blatantly, anyway, in view of the hundreds of people in the club right now. Nothing had even really happened. “Hey, I’m really okay,” you say, and raise your head up to look at him. “I had the situation handled- you didn’t need to-”

“You call that h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓?” His voice stutters out and he pulls back, his face desperate and angry as his eyes rove over your body. He notices the tiny cuts on your thighs from when you had shoved the lizard back and the blatant rage on his face is unlike anything you've seen before.

“It was under control,” you insist, and with a crackle of electricity you’ve moving- Vox has pulled you into the wiring of the club with him, manifesting in some back room and snarling “get the fuck out” to the couple of people that were already occupying it. They scram, and Vox slams the door shut behind them, clicking the lock with a turn of his claws before turning to face you again.

His entire frame is shaking as he watches you steady yourself from the fast travel, trying and failing to take a steadying breath. You grab a jacket from a nearby rack in an attempt to wipe some of the lizards blood from your chest. “I would like to make it c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.” he starts, the glitch in his voice more pronounced now that you are alone and out of the range of the thumping club music. “That no one is to touch you. E̢̢̻ͮͧͦ͋͞͡v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Vox, I’m fine-”

“That isn’t the question.” A spark of static and he’s standing in front of you now, a claw tipped finger tilting your head up to meet his gaze, drawn and angry- not at you, but at the position you had been in, the position he remedied. “The question is ‘do you understand me’ when I say that no one is to touch you.”

Your brow furrows, and you try to take a step back from him. “Jesus, what are you-”

“D̷̨̥̥̥͖̞͐ͮ̄o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡ ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓?” Vox crowds into your space, the sudden rush of it making you drop into the couch behind you. He places a knee on the cushion next to you and leans in, arms coming up to bracket you against the cushions. Despite the lingering edge of fear at how he’s acting, it’s far more welcome than that lizard trying to box you in and corner you. “I will flash fry the floor of this shitty club to destroy anyone that even thinks about looking in your direction. And I would rip the heart out of every fucking demon in Pentagram City to ensure that no one ever lays a miserable, unworthy finger on you again.”

He traces his fingers over the cuts on your thighs, his breath shaky as he looks down at them. “I wish I could kill him again for this alone. To bring you pain in any context besides pleasure is ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥf̰��̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.” His screen goes blank for a moment with the force of his rage.

And fuck, what does it say about you that the display before you has you dripping before he’s even touched you? The possessiveness of his actions alone the whole time you had known him had been enough to have you surreptitiously clenching your thighs together all the time, but the way he spoke now, like to disrespect you was blasphemy of the worst kind? If you didn’t leave this room fucked within an inch of your life then Vox was all talk, and you’d have to find somewhere else to hang with Velvette because there was no way you could look him in the eyes and not want to jump his bones again after this.

You reach a trembling hand out to grab one of his arms where he still has you boxed in under him. “I understand,” you say, answering his question finally. “I get it. No one touches me… but you?” You feel the tendons of his forearm flex with your words as he tenses, screen blinking back online as he gives you a smile.

“That’s right, doll. No one but me.” He trails a finger down your face, leaving behind a vague feeling of static. “Good girl- I didn’t even have to tell you and you know. You’re m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.” Arousal settles heavily into your core, and you rest your face into the palm of his hand, eyelids fluttering shut. “You like the thought of that, huh? Belonging to me?”

“Fuck, yes,” you whisper, and there’s a crackle of electricity as he leans in, some kind of manifestation of lips meeting yours before a long tongue slips into your mouth, the resulting spark making you keen into the air of the silent room.

When he pulls back you chase him, managing to get a nip of teeth to his mouth before he’s out of reach. “Fuck me, baby, you taste divine- I knew you would, knew you’d be fucking perfect for me.” He slides off the couch to his knees, trailing his tongue along your skin the whole way and leaving pleasant tingling in its wake. He brings his eyes up to meet yours from his position now on the floor, red eye swirling slowly while he stares in rapture. His clawed fingers hook into the sides of your jeans and start to shimmy them down, his tongue darting out to flick over the cuts on your thighs when they’re revealed. “You’ll be good for me, right? Forever. You won’t let anyone else ever fucking t͖͖̠̬͛o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡ again because you belong to me. I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries.” His eyes are wide and desperate when he finally gets your pants off your legs, bringing his hands up to rest on your thighs over the marks that the lizard had left. “You’ll never need anyone else. Let me show you, doll, how sweet I can be to you if you’re good for me.”

The whiny ‘yes’ has hardly left your lips before he’s running his tongue between your slick folds, angling his screen to get as close to your cunt as possible. He licks into you with the desperation of a man starved, the muscle- was it really a muscle if he was a TV? You’d have to ask him about that later- reaching depths inside of you that have never been touched, not by another person or your own fingers or toys. It feels like being electrocuted when he prods the tip of it against a sweet spot inside of you, and your hands fly down to clutch at his where they still rest on your thighs.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” you hear him say, despite the fact that his mouth is otherwise occupied. He must have speakers somewhere on his head that are allowing him to broadcast his thoughts, a stream of filth that makes your back arch and your walls to clench around him. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy,” he says as he moans into your pussy. “I’ve always wanted you like this- every time you came over to see Velvette I wanted you stuffed with my cock.”

“Oh my god.” Your body is vibrating with tension, taut as a fucking drum with the way his tongue is playing you. “D-don’t talk with your mouth full,” you manage, and you can feel the sharp edges of his smile against your cunt. 

Vox slides a hand over your thighs to press a sharp tipped claw to the sensitive nub of your clit, your voice choking out of you in a wail as he makes it vibrate somehow, right where you need it. “Such a g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, riding my mouth like this- I’ll give you my cock next, dollface, is that what you want?” He can’t hear you nod your head frantically so you claw at his fingers, gasping out an affirmative for him that he talks over with his tongue buried inside of you. “Come on, baby- cum on my tongue, let me have it.”

Angelic steel to the throat couldn’t have stopped you from obeying; you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body for a moment with the force of your orgasm, Vox keeping your legs spread with his shoulders to prevent you from clamping them down on his head as he sucks and licks you through your release, drinking it down with a savage smile that you can feel curled against you.

“So perfect, “ he says through his speakers, slicking his tongue through the mess between your thighs as he finally removes his head from between them, the flick of it to your clit making you jolt with sensitivity. “Beautiful, doll, you did so well.” Vox stands, drags your legs with him so you lay horizontally on the couch and he can crouch between them. He lets his belt hang undone from the loops of his trousers as he pulls his cock out and slots against your folds, bumping the head of it against your clit, sliding through the lingering wetness of your orgasm before angling enough that he can start to push into you. His claws dig into your hips, the ache of it making your head spin and distracting you from the slow and steady opening of your cunt to his length.

“Let me hear you, please; tell me you want it, baby, and it’s yours.” He can see your head nodding this time and interprets correctly, thrusting hard into the heat of you. Your hands come up to circle his back, feeling the flexing of his muscles under your fingers as he fucks into you. “I’ll give you anything. A̳̳̹̟̋ͣ͌ͅn̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥy͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́t͖͖̠̬͛h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟. S-say the word,” he chokes out, the edges of his screen turning red as his system threatens to overload. “I’ll rip the underworld apart with my b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ to keep your cunt full of me like you fucking d-deserve.” His hips stutter into yours, staccato bursts that make his pelvic bone rub against you in the most sinful way. “Fuck!”

“Please,” you groan, that coil of pressure tightening inside your core again. “Oh fuck, Vox-” You release your death grip on the couch cushions to try to get some fingers between your abdomens, to chase yourself over the edge of that second rapidly approaching orgasm, and one of Vox’s hands shoots down to snatch yours away. 

He pins it with a snarl to the back cushion of the couch. “You cum with my cock or nothing,” he growls, hypnotic eye doing its thing, and the edge to his voice has you hissing as he drills into you. “You can do that, can’t you sweetheart? Cum all pretty for me? I need to feel it, baby, s-show me you’re m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓ͬ͋ͪͧ.” He doesn’t falter in his rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, his screen going white moments after you catch a needy expression that you’re sure he didn’t mean to show you.

You don’t recognize the sound that escapes you when the cresting wave of pleasure crashes, your sharp nails digging harsh lines into Vox’s back as your entire body clenches and releases in time with his pulses into you, shoving his hips hard into you to make sure his cum is as far into your cunt as he can get it. He pants into the space above you, swallows your moans into his mouth as he finishes, releases your captive hand to trail his fingers reverently down your sides. 

“You’re so lovely,” he says when his screen comes back on. He rests it against your forehead, the glow of it so close to your eyes a bit painful but not enough to look away. His claws catch on the clotted over cuts on your thighs, and his eyes narrow. “When that slimy fucker regenerates I’m going to hunt him down and kill him again.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” you say with a soft chuckle, face twisting in discomfort as you reposition and you feel his release shift with you. “This was fantastic but I really did have it handled.”

A clawed hand cups your face. “You won’t have to handle anything like that on your own ever again, doll. I meant what I said- you’re mine. Everyone will know not to touch what’s mine.”

He helps you step back into your pants, offering an arm for support at how shaky your legs are after that frantic fucking. He guides you back out to the club through the door this time, running into someone dressed similarly to the employee that had to extinguish your crispy friend earlier. “Oh, Mister Vox! And your lovely friend- I so hope you enjoyed the use of our back room- it’s really an employee break room but that’s perfectly fine-” 

They keep talking, but you know Vox stopped listening the moment they placed a guiding hand on the small of your back. A glance back at him confirms this, along with the twitch of his red eye, static already sparking off his clenched fists.

Pros and cons to having such a powerful overlord obsessed with you- a con being that it was looking more and more likely you wouldn’t be allowed to come back to this club after tonight.  

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 23

Warnings: None

Two long stressful weeks had gone by and they still had not heard from the council. Two long weeks of complete utter distress for the wolves. Waiting around for an answer was nerve-wracking for them. None of them had any energy to focus or be happy. Minho had tried to push for an outcome but his friends told him they could not push anymore as the investigation went on. There were certain things they could not rush if they wanted to get it right, but if Minho or Jeongin had any more evidence that would help, the council would need it. This led to Minho having to bring Y/N to meet the council to give her statement on Ateez and her treatment. It was an uncomfortable conversation that needed to happen but the council were brutal as they probed for different invasive facts. She had to go through it twice on the same day with two separate council members. Y/N knew it was necessary but it was still traumatic for her. Even Hyunjin had to give an account on the same day. Still, all of these events happened two weeks ago and no outcome was made. It was upsetting even for Chan who spent countless nights going through different werewolf lore books, search engines, and paperwork to find a way of taking him down.

As the days went on the more uncertain the wolves felt. Changbin hadn't even gone to the gym for a week in fear that something would happen if he wasn't there. Minho didn't have the energy to cook properly and the wolves didn't have the energy to eat either. Jeongin also wasn't himself either. He too spent nights awake as he went through Y/N's notes trying to find another way if all else fails. He was getting highly stressed but he didn't want to keep asking Y/N questions in case she became worried, but it was too late. Y/N already knew. Y/N could feel it deep in the bottom of her stomach as she hugged her pillow, sniffing to herself in her bedroom all alone. Y/N knew they were not going to win. They were smarter and they were always ten steps ahead. Ateez knew everything about Chan, whether it was true or false they could make it true. Y/N hated this. Y/N needed to know the reality of it and the only one who was going to tell her was Hyunjin. He lived there with her and before her. He could provide a much better insight.

Y/N sighed and wiped her tears before heading to Hyunjin's room. She knew it was the middle of the night but she wanted to speak to him. She needed to so she made her way to his bedroom to knock on his door, but he had already opened it to allow her to walk into his room. He was sitting on his bed cross-legged waiting for her to come to him. "Come here little wolf. It's alright." Hyunjin called, beckoning her to sit on his bed so she did. She sat on his bed and fell into his arms crying. She didn't know why but she felt safe and familiar with him. She felt at home with him, despite her lack of memories, she felt loved. "I'm sorry," Y/N muttered as she wiped her tears, taking notice of his room. It was so modest but artistic. It didn't match their home at all. His room was a luxury contemporary room. Simple, yet it was him. "Hyunjin," Y/N whispered as she sat up, looking at the red-haired wolf. "What does Hongjoong have on Chan." "His uncle, his brother that died, his destruction of packs for an omega. He has a lot." Hyunjin whispered as he wiped her tears gently. He hated seeing her cry and it wasn't because she was an ugly crier, it was the fact she cried when she felt helpless. "It's not going to work is it?" Y/N whimpered. "I don't think so. In hindsight they're both as bad as each other, neither were nice to people at the beginning. Morally Chan is better. He cares about his wolves but his previous actions do not show that. Hongjoong only cares for power and doesn't care about his wolves, only Seonghwa. He loves Seonghwa." Hyunjin admitted as he stroked her hair lovingly. "What do we do? We have to win somehow!" Y/N stressed as she held his hand, playing with his veiny long fingers that wore a certain ring on his finger. "Did I give you this?" Y/N asked as she looked into his brown muddy eyes. "Hmm, you did." Hyunjin hummed as he brought his hands up to her face, brushing his thumb over his cheek. "We need to be patient. There is still time but we won't win with the council that is a fact, but we need to disarm them." "We remove the fucking circle," Y/N growled her eyes glowing blue. "Still a challenge. We would need a witch and that goes against Chan's morals. He likes to keep the peace between them. There might be a way to use his own weapon against him without using a witch but that means meddling with dark aura." Hyunjin explained causing Y/N to huff as she rested her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. This appeared to be more complicated than she thought. Hyunjin softly stroked her back, kissing her head gently before he leaned his head against hers, holding her close to him. Hyunjin was scared of letting her go, he hadn't held her in over four years and he wasn't prepared for her to leave him. Y/N lifted her head up presenting him with a small smile before she kissed him. It was an innocent kiss. One that was needed. It held so much love and care. It was a perfect kiss. "I should go check on Chan," Y/N murmured. "Yeah. You should." Hyunjin whispered as he kissed her once more before she headed to Chan who was still staring at his computer.

Chan had become fixated on protecting his pack with Jeongin. What Y/N hadn't expected was for Jeongin and Minho to be in Chan's office with a pile of books. "What is going on? Why are you all awake?" It was more of a rhetorical question but she still wanted an answer. "Channie, what has happened," Y/N asked as she pulled his hands away from his head so she could sit on his lap. Y/N pressed her forehead against his before she connected their lips. Chan kissed her back before he held her hands worriedly. "I'm sorry baby." Chan apologised, "I'm sorry because I might have to do something you're not going to like and I need you to be okay with it. I need you to know it's because I love you and there might not be another way." "What is going on?" Y/N asked, getting up slowly as she looked at the two wolves on the sofa. "Minho? Jeongin?" "The council find Chan more guilty than Hongjoong. Chan had broke several laws because he raided four werewolf packs and attacked several omegas. Who didn't die, but were harmed. Not only that Chan has two werewolves who have been cursed with dark aura." Minho spoke, his voice cold as he stared at the empty glass. "So?" Y/N asked. "If we continue this case. The council will disarm us and destroy us. Chan could be banished." Jeongin explained coldly. "Hyunjin is our liability that poses a problem. Apparently, he coerced you and brainwashed you into completing a ritual against Hongjoong, so in the eye of the council you are more in danger here than with Ateez." "That's bullshit." Y/N shoured. "Y/N." Minho warned, silencing her. "Y/N. Come here." Chan called but she wouldn't move. "Next week I am going to meet with a friend of mine of how we can take Ateez down or at least remove them. If it comes down to it, I might need to take Hongjoong out. I need you to be okay with that." "Why don't you ask Hyunjin to help you? He knows more. So do I. We don't need any more people involved." Y/N stressed. "Y/N." Minho warned again causing her to glare at him. "Be careful of your tone. We're doing our best so listen to Chan." "You don't even trust Hyunjin to help. You're keeping it from him." Y/N snarled. "Y/N!" "Fuck off, Minho, your not even an alpha," Y/N shouted. "Y/N." Chan shouted, hitting the table, and making her jump slightly. "Do not speak to him like that. He is your beta. He is an elder and knows much more than you. You are only an omega. No your place." Y/N stood there and scoffed. Only an omega, huh? That's low. She couldn't believe he said that. "Only an omega." Y/N laughed, "I know more about Hongjoong than you, but go ahead. Fuck it all up. He will KILL YOU!" Y/N left the room, slamming the door before walking into Chan's room to throw his paperwork all over the floor before stomping on it. Fucking idiots.

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[gay-dorito-dust]

How I think Jason shows his love includes…

Annotating/highlighting romantic passages or moments of high tension between two characters in the books he reads before passing them over to you. He’d even have the exact pages marked and when asked why that was, all he says is that they were the key pivotal moments in the story that he thoroughly enjoyed, and all with a cherry red face might I add as he intentionally leaves out the fact that he envisioned that it was the two of you in those moments as he annotated the books.

Will stand close to you for a plethora of reasonings but the main one being the fact that he wanted to be the first one you look towards when in need of anything. Comfort, protection or reassurance. Just say the word and Jason will do it without question like an obedient dog, he just wants to be someone you can hopefully rely on and trust in the future, only if you let him in first.

Jason just wants you to know that no matter what happens he will always be in your corner, uncaring for what the future will have in store for you both, whether it’d be good or bad. He’d willingly stick his neck out for you in any given situation, even if it meant putting himself in the line of fire, a few new scars won’t bother him if they were earned by keeping you safe and sound.

He doesn’t care about himself nearly enough as he cares about you and your well-being. He just doesn’t and it’s not until you were pleading with him to take care of himself, that he ultimately decided that to care for you was to care for himself as well; So for your sake he keeps himself relatively stable.

Not a great mindset but it’s Jason, he’s not exactly a practitioner of affirmations, journaling his feelings or having healthy habits.

Smiles more when he’s with you, even if it’s corny dad jokes or just bad jokes in general, Jason still smiles and might even let out a chuckle now and then.

Spends an unhealthy amount of time with you that it was impossible for you to be seen without Jason following close behind. Also Jason isn’t great with voicing his feelings in wanting to spend time with you, and instead just asks what you’re planning to do later on and whether there’s room for one more and takes it from there. He cuts out the bullshit and gets straight to the point of what he wanted to ask you.

Night rides on his bike.

Now this is mainly a boost for his ego as he loves feeling you clinging onto him for dear life as he speeds down the road with little care for the speed limit. He’s such a prick but will slow down if he see that your visibly distressed with the speed of which he was going, after all he was always going to prioritises your wants and needs above his own.

Teaches you the basic defence and even teaches you in the usage of weapons, and all for the sake of your own protection.

He doesn’t like the idea of you walking through the streets of Gotham amidst criminals and creeps alike without at least some form of defence. Jason doesn’t trust anyone with your safety except if their names happen to be Roy and or Dick. Other then that, Jason likes to be the one protecting you but had to accept that he wouldn’t always be there to do so, which lead him to constantly pester you into taking up his offer in teaching you self defence.

God knows what he’d do if something happened to you, all he knows is that it would be brutal, violent and bloody for sure.

It’s annoying at first, being pestered and all, but you understand Jason’s reasonings and went through with it for his sake.

Lastly Jason trusts you enough to bear his heart out to you and be vulnerable in your presence, so much so to the point that you knew stuff that he wasn’t as willing to disclose to even the ones he considers his closest friends and family. It’s not often that Jason bears it all to someone but when he does, he does so out of confidence that they wouldn’t use it against him down the line.

He hopes that this method could be applied to you as well and he thanks every god in existence when you open up your arms for him to fall into them in acceptance. He smiles as he closes his eyes, feeling warm and safe within your arms, forever wanting to stay here for as long as forever allows.

[0womae]

Lost in the Fire ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

Ellie Williams X fem!Reader

tw: 18+ content, Minors & Men dni!! Dom!Ellie, fingering, oral sex, makeout, grinding, r receiving, Ellie receiving.

✎4.1k

‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Like most nights in the small town of Jackson, it was a cold, snowy and brutal one. You had just gotten off of patrol with Jesse, and were making your way to the small humble abode you resided in alone with your cat, Luna. As you walk to your house, the gravel and snow crunching beneath your feet, your eyes flicker to the house Ellie, the girl who had came to Jackson with Tommy’s brother, Joel, a while back lived in, they were seen through the window, watching a film on the box television in Joel’s living room.

Joel was always so sweet to you, since you always asked him questions about the films he always talked about, that and how to properly pull weeds and which plant to pull when it was your turn to garden, or how to properly brush the horses.

Whenever you had a question, Joel was always around to help show you the way, and that’s why you started to take a liking to him, as some sort of father figure in your life.

Ellie, though, is the one who peeked your interest from the beginning. As soon as you laid your eyes upon her, when she was sitting on the porch swing, drawing in her book around 4 years ago. You two were close friends, but not as close you would’ve liked. You wanted to be more.

You always told your best friend, Dina, your patrol partner for this week, girlfriend, how much you had liked Ellie, but always too nervous to make a move, that and you weren’t sure if she was over Cat after their break up.

You tilted your head in thought, pondering whether or not this would be a good opportunity to make a move, you were an opportunist anyway, what the hell? You thought.

But what would you even ask her about?

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, just turn around and go home, Y/N.” You muttered quietly to yourself, luckily it was already late and no one was around to look at you like a maniac.

Not crazy, just trying to grow a back bone.

You sucked in the cold air, fixing your posture as you walked confidently to the door.

You close your eyes for a second, feeling the breeze of the chilly wind.

You knock on the door, clearing your throat. The faint noises from the Television paused, indicating that they heard your knock.

You heard muffled chatter inside before the door opened, seeing Ellie opening the door, a surprised look written all over her face.

“Y/N, hey, what’s up?” She asked, she stood there with smile on her freckled face, she wore jeans and a grey sweatshirt she’d normally wear.

Ellie stared , watching as you snuck your arms around one another. She noticed the tip of your nose red, burning from the cold.

“I’m sorry to bother you guys, Ellie, I was just wondering if you..” Your head tilted to the side, words trailing off as you both looked to Joel.

“Ellie! What’s the hold up? Come on, it’s getting to the good part!” Joel bellowed from the couch, turning his head to see you standing at the door, looking at him.

“Y/N, What’re you doing here?” He sat up, smiling at you. “I was just, I don’t even know, I guess I had a question.” You shook your head, “Well, come on inside, we just started Curtis and Viper,”

He turned to the TV, holding the remote in his hand. You looked to Ellie as she looked at you, smiling, she stepped aside, allowing you to come in.

The warmth of the house overpowered you, almost instantly warming you up.

She put her hand on the small of your back, leading you to the couch, letting you take a seat next to Joel, “Do you want anything? Water, coffee, tea? Popcorn?” She stared down at you, you gently shook your head, smiling at her.

“I’m okay, really! You can resume the movie!” You voiced, throwing your long hair over your shoulder in attempts of getting it out of your way.

She collapsed next to you on the brown leathery couch, it was cramped since Joel was also sitting on it as well, so your bodies touched.

You notice every breath you took, your chest heaved, slightly grazing her arm. Ellie noticed, glancing down at your chest on her arm, and back up to your face. You intently stared at the screen, ignoring her glance.

You felt her eyes on you. Piercing through your soul. Joel muttered something about what had happened in the movie, that you weren’t even really paying attention to, your eyes were on the screen but your mind was somewhere else entirely.

You crossed your legs, wrapping your arms around yourself, pushing your breasts together.

Ellie looked away, but kept glancing at you. You smirked to yourself. You didn’t know where this new found confidence came from, especially in front of Joel, but you had to do what you had to do, right?

Ellie put her hand on her thigh, gently touching your thigh with the side of her hand. Sending jolts up your body.

You’d be lying if you said you’d had sex with anyone before, the opportunity presented itself a multitude of times, but you never were interested in the person to let them take your virginity, not like you were with Ellie.

Of course, you knew how to kiss and knew what sex was, you just never let it get that far with a person before. You always stopped, always made up an excuse to get out of it.

You sighed, leaning back more comfortably now. Ellie tapped your thigh gently, gaining your attention, you looked over at her and she motioned to Joel, you looked beside you and see him passed out, mouth slightly opened as he gently snored.

“Must’ve had a long day,” You mutter, snickering lightly. “Must have.” Ellie smirked, looking at him before the two of you made eye contact.

She stared at you, making you squirm awkwardly, unable to maintain eye contact.

You cleared your throat, looking toward the television once again.

You leaned into her arm once more, gaining her attention, you looked up at her as she turned her head to you.

You both stared at each other, this time you tried not to pull away out of sheer fear, again.

“What did you want to ask?” She whispered, glancing at your lips and back to your eyes.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “What?” You inquired quietly. “You came over to ask something, what was it?” She replied back in a low whisper.

“Oh, uh.” You scrambled to think of a quick question to ask her, “It was really nothing, I just, um, wanted to ask if you..”

Ellie sat up, turning to you, listening to your next words, “If you had any weed.” You whispered, grinning awkwardly, you noticed the slight fall of her shoulders, making you look at her curiously.

“Is that all?” She smirked at you, you nodded slowly, looking up at the ceiling as if to think if there was anything else you wanted to say to her.

“Well, you’re in luck, because I just so happen to come across a couple of joints from a stash Eugene had,” She continued, “But, the bad news is, that it’s at my place,” She voiced, turning her head to the window.

You followed to where she was looking, watching as the snow fell lightly, leaving a thin blanket of fresh snow on the ground.

You sighed out, looking defeated. “Don’t worry, it’s not too far, you can come back to my place, and I can warm you up.” Ellie smirked, gaining your attention, your eyes slightly widened at her words.

“I have a fireplace,” She leaned in, whispering in your ear smugly, pulling back with a sly grin on her face.

You punched her arm, getting up whilst laughing lightly. She rubbed her arm, as if you hit her hard enough to hurt her, looking up at you as you stood over her.

You both stared at each other, grins on your face as something stirred in you.

There was a spark of electricity, as you both stared deep into each others eyes, your arms tempted to wrap around her arm and straddle her right there on the spot.

Joel shifted in his sleeping, pulling you and Ellie out of the trance that enthralled you both.

Oh, right. You sighed in defeated, drawing your attention back to Ellie. She stood up, taking your hand as she helped you put on your jacket you hung up before taking a seat.

A light blush crept up your face as you held onto her cold fingers. She opened the door, the cold air instantly hitting the both of you. “Come on, it’s not too far, don’t worry.” She turned back at you, smiling.

You tipped your head, watching as she drug you by your hand, warming your hand up from her body heat.

You smiled silently to yourself, she glanced over at you, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?” She chuckled, “Nothing, it’s just, it’s cold, your hand is warming mine up,” You laugh lightly, it’s not funny, but you’re all mushy and soft from her being affectionate.

“I’d rather my hands warm up another way,” She muttered, almost to herself. You tilt your head, urging her to go on. She glances down at your breasts, and back to your eyes.

Your face heats up, your breath hitching in your throat. “You can’t just be sweet and cute for once, can you?” You quickly voiced, trying to act smug after being caught off guard.

“Aren’t I always?” She looked at you, a grin on her face. You playful rolled your eyes, mouthing a ‘No’. Making her snap her head back at you.

The two of you got to her door, she opened it for you, letting you go in first. The warm air consuming you. You let out a sigh, Ellie coming up behind you to help you pull off your jacket.

“Do you want some tea? Or hot chocolate? It’ll warm you up,” She inquired, turning to face you. She finally was able to get a good look at what you had on.

You wore a thin, dark green long sleeve, a pair of blue skinny jeans and converse. No wonder you were so cold, she thought.

She stares at you as you hung up your jacket on the coat rack next to the door, taking in your appearance whilst she can.

You glance over at her, watching her eyes look you up and down approvingly, as if you were a big juicy steak. She stopped when she saw your body turn to her, seeing your perked nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Her eyes snap back at yours when she realized you were looking at her, “Sure, I’ll take some hot chocolate, please, that sounds good.” You smile, rubbing your cold arms.

“Here, go sit next to the fireplace and I’ll bring you some,” She muttered, smiling. You nodded, sitting on the couch that sat next to the warm fireplace.

You closed your eyes for a moment, sucking in a breath of air, the smell of her house, where she slept, ate and bathed.

You snuggled into the couch, your eyes wandering the scenery in front of you, you were never in Ellie’s home for longer than 2 seconds, so this was new territory for you.

You took off your converse in the sake of being respectful, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

After a few seconds, Ellie walks in, holding two mugs in her hands, placing them down on the coffee table in front of you.

She walked toward a cabinet near her bed, shuffling through the drawers.

She brought out a lighter and a joint between her fingers. She made way to you and where you sat, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Are you still cold?” She asked, positioning herself to look at you. “I’m warming up,” You smiled, leaning over to pick up the hot mug.

She leaned over to pick up hers, her shirt lifting slightly, showing you a sliver of her abdomen.

You looked through hooded eyes, taking small sips of your hot chocolate before placing the cup back on the table.

Ellie handed you the joint as you put it between your lips, staring at her as she lift the lighter to the joint in between your lips, lighting it for you.

You stared at her in her eyes, inhaling the drug. You held it in your lungs for a moment before slowly letting it out.

“Why are you so quiet?” You asked, pulling the joint away from your lips, she titled her head slightly, giving you a questionable look.

“You always have something slick to say, why are you so quiet tonight?” You wondered, handing her the joint.

“I just don’t have anything to say.” Ellie voiced, inhaling. She, of course, had things to say, but she was too concerned on taking glimpses of how your perfect, hardened nipples peered through the thin layer of your shirt.

“I find that hard to believe. Something is distracting you, what’s up?” You voiced, getting comfortable on the couch.

She looked at you, as she inhaled once more, exhaling the smoke, “You.” She said, pulling it away from her lips and handing it to you.

“Me?” You pondered aloud, accepting the joint. “Mhhh. If Joel wasn’t there tonight, what would’ve happened?” She finally asked.

Your eyes flickered to hers, the drug hitting you slightly, making your mind loopy and you laughed.

“I don’t know,” You laughed, looking at her. She blinked, staring at you, as if waiting for you to continue.

You cleared your throat, sitting up. “What’re you trying to do?” You muttered, inhaling the joint.

“I’m just curious.” She tilted her head at you, smirking. The light from the fireplace casting shadows on her lightly freckled face.

“Things probably would’ve … happened.” You awkwardly said, inhaling once more. “Things?” Ellie questioned, her finger grazing your leg.

“You’re irresistible, Ellie. You’re hot. What else can I say?” You rolled your eyes, lightheartedly, smirking, looking down at your fingers. Allowing the drug to control your mind.

Ellie tipped her head to look at your eyes, you looked up at her, chest heaving. Her eyes wandered down to your breasts again.

You watched as she stared at your chest, her eyes dragging back to yours after she realized you were watching her.

“Be more noticeable, won’t you?” You smirked. Ellie looked at you with half lidded eyes, this time you couldn’t find any hint of smugness, the only thing that showed in the expression on her face was pure… hunger.

Lust.

Ellie leaned into you, you leaned into her, she grabbed your jaw, pulling you in for a deep kiss. Chills ran down your spine, this took a turn for the best.

She hungrily kissed your lips, you tried to match her pace, kissing back. Soon her tongue grazed your lip, granting access, your mouth fell open, her tongue slipping in your mouth.

Your tongues danced together, a small moan rippling through your throat. Only fueling the burning desire Ellie had for you.

She continued, slipping a cold hand around your hip, pulling you on her.

You straddled each side of her legs, your back arched against her. You breathed in her scent, her natural smell. She always smelled so wonderful to you. You were always attracted to how she smelled.

You ran your fingers through her hair, she slid a hand up your back, feeling the soft, warm skin, sending goosebumps spread like wildfire throughout your skin from the touch of her cold hands.

She pulled at the hem of your shirt, you broke away from the kiss, taking the hint and lifting up your shirt, exposing your bare chest.

She wasted no time with fondling one whilst kissing your neck, your head tilted back, feeling the sensation between your legs build.

You pulled at her sweatshirt, she broke away from you, removing the article of clothing, throwing it somewhere on the ground. She looked so irresistible sitting there under you, with a sports bra on and breathing heavily, staring up at you, lust and hunger in her eyes.

You could just moan at the sight of her like that, you wrapped your arms around her neck, leaning back into her, you captured her lips in a heated kiss again. Grinding your hips on her lap, trying to feel some sort of pressure on your dripping core.

Ellie noticed this, breaking away from the kiss and looking down at your crotch straddling her lap, making her bite her lower lip seductively.

“I think these pants are going to have to go,” She looked up at you with half lidded eyes, a smirk playing on her red, swollen lips.

“Oh, really? Whys that?” You grinned, acting stupid. “Because I can’t feel your wet pussy through jeans, babe.” She purred, looking up at you, her hand sneaking around your ass.

You lifted off the couch, unbuttoning your pants slowly, teasing Ellie as she stared at your hands.

Her eyes flickered to yours, her stare was devious and filled with yearn for you alone.

You smirk, pulling the pants off you, she stared at your panties, black thongs, “It’s like you’ve been ready for me to fuck you, pretty girl.” She seductively voiced, scooting closer to you as you towered over her. Her hands reached around you, feeling your bare ass.

You kneel in front of her, her face contouring into curiosity and confusion, mixed with lust and want.

You unbuttoned her pants, “I’m not the only one who is going to be stripping, Els.” You tut jokingly, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of her pants, she lifted her hips slightly, allowing you to pull them off.

After she was just left in her bra and boxers, you climbed on her, only straddling one leg, your knee gently pressing against her clothed core.

She gasped slightly, looking up at you. A playful smile dancing its way on her lips, you looked at her and then her lips, leaning in to kiss her again.

After hovering over her thigh, you sat on her carefully, not putting your full weight against it, you rubbed your pussy against her thigh, whilst rubbing your knee slightly to make her feel some friction as well.

Your panties were soaked at this point, Ellie cupped one of your breasts whilst suckling and kissing the tinder part of your neck. Sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You moaned, riding her thigh slightly faster, stabilizing yourself by putting both of your hands against each of her shoulders.

Ellie made her way down your neck, leaving open mouth kisses against your skin, making her way down to your collarbone and finally she found your nipple, sucking and nibbling gently.

You squirm under her touch, trying not to be too loud as you threw your head back out of pleasure.

Ellie pulled away from your breast, wrapping a hand around your back and another around your thigh.

Ellie lifted up from the couch, you still on her, you looked at her confused, wrapping both of your arms around her neck, pushing your tits against her chest, making her want more.

She made way over to her bed, laying you gently down on the bed, your chest heaved, staring up at her as she looked at you, as if she were a lion ready to pounce on her prey.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to feel something. Anything.

Ellie tutted, walking to the end of her bed, she climbed the bed, snaking a hand in between your legs, pulling them open.

“Ellie..” You whispered out, coming out a little too whiny. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Ellie smirked, lowering her face to your heat.

You felt her warm breath, you lifted your hips, trying to get closer to her face. She put her hands on your hips, pushing them back into the mattress.

“Use your words,” Ellie smirked, trailing her hands up your body, landing on your breasts.

You decided to suck up the embarrassment, playing into her little game. You arched your back, using your middle finger and pointer finger to spread your lips apart, allowing her to see how wet you are.

“I want to feel your fingers in me, Ellie. I want to feel your hands exploring my body, I want to come on your tongue.” You moan out, Ellie stared intently up at you with half lidded eyes.

She wrapped her arms around your thighs, lowering her face to your bare core.

She licked a stripe up your swollen, wet cunt, tasting you. She kisses your clit sloppily, sucking and gently nibbling on it. Ellie forces your legs over her shoulders, her tongue exploring your hole, allowing her to bury herself deeper within you.

You moan out, back arching, “Ellie, please!” You pant, already feeling the knot in your stomach forming.

She pulls away slightly, feeling your clit with two fingers before she slowly inserts them. You moan out more, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Don’t you dare cover up those pretty moans,” Ellie groaned, her mouth sucking your clit.

“I..I…” You trail off, your fingers entangling in with her hair. “I want to taste you.” Ellie muffled out, the voice vibrating your clit.

You gasped, you looked down at her, her dangerous eyes staring right into yours as your mouth fell to an ‘o’ shape. Your back arched, your body tensed up as the knot in your stomach comes undone.

You moaned her name out, trying hard not to clench your legs around her. The sound of you screaming her name got her even more horny, if it were even possible.

You laid there, out of breath as she came up next to you, laying down as she stared lovingly in your eyes.

You stared at her, catching your breath. She only smirked, looking at you.

You lifted up from the mattress, her face contorting into a confused look.

“Oh, you don’t think we’re done, do you?” You smirked down at her, leaning in as you kissed her neck.

“But you—, you finished?” Ellie pondered, staring up at you.

“Mhm… and now it’s my turn to make you come.” You slyly voiced, palming her clothed heat.

Her eyebrows raise, her mouth falling slightly open. You lean next her ear, kissing it gently as your hand travels down from her bare abdomen, to her cunt.

Your finger explored her heat, playing with her clit and then gently dipping a finger into her, teasing.

“Oh, shit.” She cursed, a moan rippling out her mouth. You hummed, kissing her neck some more.

You feel her hand wrap around your wrist of the hand that was in her boxers, her fingers pressed your middle finger and pointer finger into her pussy.

Guiding your wrist, you fucked her wet hole with two fingers. “Fuck, Ellie, you’re so wet.” You purred, soaking up this vulnerable moment for the both of you.

Ellie groaned, letting a ‘fuck’ slip from her lips as you felt her clench around your fingers, making your own cunt throb with need. You pressed light kisses over her neck, and chest. You felt her body tense below you, as you pulled out your fingers to massage her clit before dipping back in.

Ellie’s hitched breaths were the only thing to be heard in the quiet room, that and the pornographic squelching noises coming from her drenched heat from you playing with her.

You moaned in her ear, pushing her over the edge.

Her hips bucked, her hands wandering to your back as you felt her shake underneath you as the knot came undone, she was seeing stars at this point.

“God, you’re so hot,” She breathed out, staring up at you as she came down from the high. You smirked, kissing her lips gently as you moved to lay on her side, cuddling in her.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been longing for this,” She muttered, looking at you with a genuine smile. “Oh, so you’ve thought about me a lot, have you?” You slyly smirked, reaching over to press your lips against hers.

You pulled away, smiling down at her. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, as well.” You sighed out, wrapping your arms around her as you cuddled into her chest.

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

Spock x reader

Could you please do. 5 times Spock caught the reader from falling +1 time he didn't. Reader gets really hurt but no death. Just hurt/comfort please✨

Of course I will do this for you! I hope you don't mind I shortened it a little for the sake of my word count. (It's already too long) But the premise is the same!

Warnings: reader is very clumsy, blood, brief description of a burn, language and I think that's it!

Word Count: 3,351 (buckle up)

Let me know if you guys want a part 2 to this one, I feel like it has tha kind of potential 👀

Allow the Ground to Find its Brutal Way to Me - Spock x Reader

1.

               The first time Ensign (Y/N) met Spock was an accident. She was supposed to be in the engine room – as per her engineering status – but instead, she was hiding away in the lounge. Most of her daily work was finished anyway, she could stand to take a break and catch up on her reading. However, just as she had reached a particularly exciting part of her book, her communicator crackled to life and Scotty’s voice filled the once peaceful silence.

               “(L/N), I need you to return to the engine room. I need your help repairing a minor issue with the hyperdrive.”

               The thought of ignoring the call crossed her mind but then so did the thought of losing her job,

               “On my way.”

               With a defeated sigh, (Y/N) marked her page and left the lounge. As the door hissed open, she stepped out without looking and bumped harshly into someone. (Y/N) and the stranger tottered for a moment before they both stabilized.

               “Sorry-“

               “Apologies-“

               Commander Spock was admittedly distracted by his datapad when he heard the lounge door open. He had looked up a bit too late and walked straight into the woman walking out of the room. After their quick apologies, the young ensign left without introduction. Spock had never seen her before and upon noting her red dress surmised that she worked primarily in the engine room. He let out a short hum as he continued on his path toward the bridge, this time making sure to keep his eyes on the hallway.

2.

               Over the next few months, (Y/N) and Spock saw a lot more of each other. Whether it was a coincidence or fate (Y/N) did not care she was just glad it happened. The two have many things in common such as a love for reading, art, and history. (Y/N) had become quite fond of her commanding officer and upon that realization, the thought of losing her job crossed her mind once again. The door to the Bridge hissed open and she walked as gracefully as she could beside Scotty as they entered for their weekly report. Supposedly, this ritual was so that Captain Kirk could be kept in the loop about any problems we may be having down in the engine room but (Y/N) was starting to think that it was simply a way for Kirk and Scotty to chat. For about five minutes the two men had a serious conversation, and then it transitioned into a more friendly and less important one that (Y/N) tuned out of. 

Spock noticed her as soon as she stepped onto the Bridge. Her hair was pulled away from her face today - she must have been doing mechanical work. He recalled her mentioning that she doesn’t like pulling her hair up because it gives her a headache. 

“...so I only pull it up when I have to. Don’t want it to get in the way while I’m neck deep in a turbine of something.”

The Vulcan huffed a breath through his nose that almost resembled a chuckle at the memory. Spock looked back toward (Y/N) at the sound of her laughter. Her lips curled in a lopsided grin and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink color as she waved off whatever it was Kirk had said to make her laugh. Spock’s brown eyes stared intently at (Y/N)’s face. She was a very beautiful woman - it would be illogical for him to deny that - but it was not practical to dwell on those thoughts so he begrudgingly looked back down at his work. 

(Y/N) had sneaked what she thought were subtle glances toward the Vulcan. How could she not? But apparently, the glances were not subtle enough to go undetected by Captain Kirk who had connected her gaze with his second in command. 

“Spock? Really? Come on, of all the men on board,” Kirk scoffed. 

(Y/N) looked down at her shoes feeling a bit caught and murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scotty and Kirk exchanged knowing glances and Kirk reached out and tapped (Y/N) on the shoulder, “Hey, do you think Vulcans get jealous? I think we should test it out and call it a science experiment.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at the notion. She waved off the suggestion and shook her head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable. Can I be dismissed? I do have a job to complete.” 

Kirk nodded and sent her away with a smile. She was relieved to be out of that situation and made her way back toward the elevator which just so happened to lead her right past a certain Vulcan. He looked up as she walked past and she waved and smiled. He nodded back. Unfortunately for (Y/N)’s confidence, she happened to walk a bit too close to the control table Spock was standing behind and managed to knock her hip into it hard enough for her to stumble. Spock quickly reached out and grabbed her bicep so she wouldn’t fall and (Y/N) gave him a sheepish grin. 

“Whoops,” she chuckled as she straightened herself up. “My clumsiness strikes again.” She chuckled to herself as she left the room. 

3.

(Y/N)’s palms were sweaty as she quickly swiped them against her uniform. Her eyes flicked between the aliens in front of her and Kirk. She had been part of a group that was meant to explore a newly found planet, however, the locals were not as accepting as the captain had anticipated. Normally, (Y/N) would not be involved in such missions but much to her annoyance the people on this planet spoke a dialect close enough to a language she knew to make her a valuable translator. The mood was quite tense as she stood in between the two groups. The aliens had just told Kirk that if they did not leave the planet soon, they would be punished.

“Punished how?” Kirk asked her. She cringed.

“I’d rather not repeat that one. Just know the description was very graphic and I think we should follow their direction.”

Kirk rolled his shoulders back and narrowed his eyes. “How about a bargain?” 

(Y/N) hesitated before relaying the question to the lead alien. The alien paused before allowing Kirk to elaborate. 

“You keep a member of our crew until we’re done with analysis and then we will come back for them when we leave. No more than 24 hours.”

Spock, who had remained silent by Kirk’s side grabbed the captain’s shoulder, “This is not a good idea. We don’t know how they treat prisoners here. You could be putting one of the crew members in danger.” 

“Relax. We’ll send one of the officers with them. They have training to withstand or escape if necessary. I know what I’m doing, Spock.

(Y/N) had relayed the proposition and the aliens turned to each other to deliberate. (Y/N) shifted on her feet and looked over at Spock with a wary expression. She said nothing but Spock understood: Whatever the aliens were saying wasn’t good. After a few moments, the aliens gave their response. As they spoke, (Y/N)’s eyes widened. When the aliens finished, she turned to Kirk and cleared her throat. 

“They say that they accept your bargain as long as they get to choose who stays.”

“Fine. Who do they want?”

“Me.”

A long pause. Kirk could feel Spock’s glare burning into the back of his head and chose not to cast a glance in his direction. “No.”

“It does make the most sense. I’m the only one who can speak to them and it’s only for a day. Who knows, maybe they’ll tell me stuff about their people.” (Y/N) could not believe she was advocating for herself to be a prisoner of some strange race but she just didn’t want shooting to start. 

Kirk finally cast a sidelong glance to his second in command who was already looking at him with an unreadable expression. Spock simply nodded. He couldn’t deny the logic. While she was there she could act as an ambassador on behalf of Star Fleet. 

“Fine” Kirk nodded and immediately (Y/N) was taken by the arms in a firm grip. She yelped in surprise and forced her legs to cooperate as she was led away from her group. 

“I guess the 24 hours starts now!” She said over her shoulder as she was led back toward the little village the aliens came from. 

Data gathering and analysis had never gone quicker. Everyone on the ground crew worked overtime through the night to gather as much as they could in the short time they were given. To say Spock was nervous would be a bit of an understatement. Anytime his hands were not occupied by work he would be picking his cuticles raw at the thought of (Y/N) stuck in that village. He was not optimistic, but Kirk reminded him that the aliens may not be hostile toward her. Spock often forgot that possibility. The group stood at the edge of the village just as the 24 hours were up. Much to Spock’s relief, (Y/N) was being led over to them unharmed. She was held firmly by the arm just as she had been yesterday but she seemed much less nervous today. 

“You okay?” Kirk asked when she was standing across from him 

“Yeah, I’m fine. They want to know if you have what you came for.”

Kirk nodded and, as if on cue, the alien holding (Y/N) pushed her forward. It wasn’t a particularly hard push, however, (Y/N) was not expecting the sudden forward momentum and tripped over her own feet. Spock, who stood once again at Kirk’s side, stepped forward and allowed (Y/N) to fall into him so she wouldn't hit the ground. The Ensign’s fingers softly gripped into Spock’s forearms and she straightened herself, murmuring a thanks under her breath. 

“Let’s head back to the ship.” She said grabbing both Spock and Kirk by the arm and leading the group away from the watching aliens. 

1. 

The only lights in the engine room were the red flashing emergency lights. The zap of electricity was heard from frayed or snapped wires and steam blew from busted pipes. (Y/N) had her hair messily pulled from her face and sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth. She was clinging tightly to a pipe close to the hyperdrive with a tool in hand attempting to fix the catastrophic problem that had come from a too close encounter with the Klingons. The Enterprise groaned and tilted causing (Y/N) to hold tighter to her only anchor. The tool fell from her hand as she squeezed her eyes shut. When she didn’t hear the clang of the metal tool hitting the floor for several seconds she suddenly realized how far off the ground she really was. She had already climbed several feet up the scaffolding before the ship tilted, but now even if she tried to drop to the floor she would begin falling toward the wall. The ship was almost completely on its side and there was no way she would survive a fall from where she was. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” (Y/N) whined as she willed her aching arms and legs to stay wrapped around the pipe. The metal beneath her hands quivered and clicked as pressure built up in the pipe. (Y/N) looked around for something, anything, that she could grab to move away from this pipe which felt like it was going to burst at any time. 

“Ensign (Y/N)?” Someone shouted her name but she couldn’t see where they were standing. 

“Help! I’m definitely stuck!” She shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping the person could pinpoint her location. There was a pause and then the sound of something exploding and crackling with electricity. 

“I can’t use the walkway, the ship has tilted too far and the alternative route has just been…obstructed.”

It was Spock! (Y/N) could have cried from relief even though he was telling her he couldn’t get to her. Something about knowing he was there with her made her a little less afraid. She took a deep breath and looked around again. This time for a way for Spock. She saw one on the North side of the room. It was just level enough that if He came through that door, he could carefully walk toward where she was. There was just one problem. 

“I see another way but,” (Y/N) let out a breathy, humorless chuckle, “You’re going to have to come in from the North hallway.”

Spock blinked in his spot against the wall. The ship shuddered and he stabilized himself with his hands. He heard (Y/N) gasp but didn’t hear anything else. The North Hall was all the way on the other side. He would have to backtrack and go around and who knows the state of that side of the ship. 

“That- that may not work.” 

“I know but there’s no other good way in.” (Y/N) could feel her arms tiring. If something didn’t change soon, she was going to fall. She felt her stomach sink at the thought. 

Spock didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t see (Y/N) so he had no idea what kind of state she was in. He swore under his breath. It didn’t matter. The only way to possibly help her was to go to the other side. If she sounded that calm, she must believe she’ll be okay long enough for him to make it. 

“I’m going around. I swear I will come to get you just stay where you are.” Before she could answer he was gone.

(Y/N) sighed and briefly rested her forehead on the warmed metal. “God, you have no idea how difficult that’s going to be.” 

She didn’t know how long she had been hanging there, but it felt like forever. Every few moments the ship would groan and shift and it was getting increasingly hard to stay on the pipe. (Y/N) felt her eyes sting with unwanted tears as her limbs grew numb. She grunted as she tried to adjust her grip. She bit back a sob. The metal was getting warmer. Air was compressing on the inside and pressure was building. At any moment it would- another awful groan, then a hiss and a loud crack as the metal in front of her chest broke open. (Y/N) screamed as hot steam hit her. Her arms and legs finally lost grip as the shock of the pain ran through her body. Another blood-curdling scream ripped itself from her throat as she fell from the pipe, quickly plummeting toward the far wall below her. When the hard material met her back, the air left her lungs as she gurgled on the fluid bubbling up in her throat, and just as the sensation of the pain of her fall crept in, the darkness in the corner of her vision overcame her. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” 

The sound was very faint but it was unmistakable. It was Spock calling her name. Her eyes were stubbornly refusing to open and the rest of her body felt numb but she could hear him getting closer. She noted through hazy sensation that she was lying on her side. The ship must have shifted again. Hands were on her. She couldn’t tell where but she knew the familiar pressure of Spock’s grip on her. A gurgling sound came from her as she was carefully turned over. 

Blood lazily drooled from her lips and her head flopped lazily to the side. She looked dead, Spock thought as he searched for a pulse. His eyes burned with unshed tears but he couldn't let himself feel at that moment. He had to focus on getting (Y/N) out. Like he promised. However weak it was, the pulse he felt beneath his fingers overwhelmed him. 

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” 

Yes. 

He got no response. Spock looked her over once again before gently scooping her up into his arms. It was as he walked toward the - now clear - exit of the engine room that he let his eyes roam the large burn on her upper chest. Parts of her uniform had been melted against her skin and some of the skin had started to blister. Spock tore his eyes away. He couldn’t stand to look. “I am going to get you out of here.” He said to her, but it was him who needed the reassurance. 

Burning. That’s the first thing (Y/N) smelled. As if someone were burning meat. It was to her horror as she opened her eyes and focused on her surroundings that the smell was coming from her own body. Despite her panic, she didn’t have the energy to move but, as she looked around at the infirmary she was in, her body decided that she had the energy to cry. Silent tears streamed down her face as she tried to make some kind of noise. To her left, the heart monitor began to rapidly beep in accordance to her rising heart rate which caused two people to come rushing into the room: Dr. Bones and Spock. Their presence told (Y/N) that she must be in a Star Fleet infirmary, maybe even still on the ship. Bones began to fuss over her, checking her vitals and talking to her in a soft but stern tone, 

“What the hell were you thinkin’ staying in the engine room? You were supposed to evacuate with everyone else.”

Obviously, Bones didn’t expect a response from the girl who still had tears rolling down her cheeks. He glanced at Spock who was awkwardly standing at the foot of the hospital bed, watching. When he looked back (Y/N), her wide, wet eyes were pleading up at him. 

“Now don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re on some pretty strong meds right now so you shouldn’t be feelin’ any pain. Once you’re more physically stable we can start your burn treatments and the physical therapy for your back.”

The heart monitor picked up speed once again as (Y/N)’s eyes seemed to get impossibly wide. Spock chose that moment to gently rest a hand on her leg in comfort. Bones shook his head softly. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about all that right now. Just get some rest and you’ll be right as rain soon.” The doctor patted her head gently and with one final scan of the machinery in the room, he left the two alone. 

“I-” Spock started then stopped. His brown eyes found (Y/N)’s and he hesitated. He looked down at her hand before continuing, “I am sorry I did not get to you sooner.”

(Y/N) wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. To grab his hand or shake her head no but she couldn’t. All she could do was look at him and listen as the man before her pleaded for her forgiveness. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait very long for Spock to take her hand himself. His skin was cold compared to hers and he felt her fingers twitch against his palm. His eyes snapped to meet hers. Her eyes were still watery but she was no longer crying. She sniffled softly and her cheek twitched, the corner of her mouth barely perking up into a small, lopsided smile. 

I forgive you.

Spock scoffed as a small smile of his own made its way to his face. He stood up and gently rested (Y/N)’s hand against the scratchy hospital blanket. Spock leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and sighed. He could still smell your shampoo in your hair. 

“Get some rest.”

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part I

Word count: 3600+

Warnings: mentions of blood, body remains; reader is from Hewn city (I believe that says enough about what to expect here)

Note: I'm posting this just because I'm curious if there would be anyone interested in this story. There won't be next chapter any time soon, not until the rest of Heal me is up. Hopefully I won't need to pretend it's oneshot😮‍💨

Declaration: I hate dancing and have zero knowledge about it, so excuse the lack of description or any vagueness in that part. I tried to look things up, I swear, but the unstoppable rolling of my eyes made it hard to focus🤷

Dividers by amazing @tsunami-of-tears

Part II

A male slowly stepped out of the darkness, the pale face lifted up. His amber eyes found yours, gazing straight into them with hate, all-consuming fire blazing in his irises. His unbounded long red hair flew around him, dancing in the air as flames. He was scary but handsome. Then his mouth twisted into a sadistic grin came in focus and you cried out in fear. His white teeth were covered in blood, streams of it running down his chin, dripping on the front of his shirt.

Blood was dripping even from his long fingers with sharp nails of predator. Down at his feet lay remains of a body, pile of flesh and broken bones, burned so badly that nobody could recognize the person whom it belonged to.

His grin widened and he suddenly dashed forward towards you, his hand reaching for your throat.

You jolted up in dimly lit carriage, cold sweat covering your body. Thankfully, you were all alone and nobody saw you or heard you. This nightmare haunted you almost every time you closed your eyes ever since you were told that you would marry a new High Lord of Autumn Court.

You were born and raised in Hewn city, the cruellest place known to fae world where it was lucky to be born as a male. Unfortunately, you were a female which meant that you were a toy in hands of your father who was just as brutal as that whole place.

You'd spent most of your life in your room without windows, allowed to come out only when you were called or needed. You'd never seen a daylight until this day. Growing up you were often punished whether you did something wrong or not, because you were just a weak female, a possession that could be sold if the offer was high enough. That's how you ended up betrothed to the Heir of Autumn Court on the first place.

You didn't know why you were chosen. You had never spoken with him nor met him in person. You saw him only from afar when he came to Hewn city to negotiate with Keir and later at a ball organized by your High Lord where he danced with one of the High Lady's sisters. It was quite an interesting show and he seemed to be smitten by her.

You watched that all from your dark alcove where you were exposed for the chosen ones but otherwise hidden from prying eyes of others. You weren't allowed to participate directly. You weren't even allowed to talk with other guests. The ball was a market and you were the goods.

However, the horrific rumours about the Heir got to your ears nevertheless. You heard all stories about his cruelty and punishments that he loved to deliver, and later even the stories about how he killed his father and became a High Lord. None of them was a good one, but he wasn't judged here. In Hewn city, he was admired for his rigour. Every male wanted to be like him, every female either feared she would catch his eye or longed for that.

You, for sure, didn't belong to the second group. You didn't want to get married at all. All you dreamt about, was freedom, the possibility to go and do whatever you wanted, but that was out of question for you. You were just a puppet that danced only when a male pulled the strings. Now you were a property of your father who had planned to sell you for the highest offer from the day you were born, and soon enough you would became a property of your husband. You were nothing, you didn't count.

You were aware of the offers that piled on your father's desk. They started coming when you turned 15, but your father had waited. You didn't know what he did or who he spoke to, when suddenly a marriage proposal came from Autumn Court soon after your 18th birthdays. He didn't hesitate this time and immediately accepted. He couldn't get any higher offer than from the future High Lord himself, could he.

If you thought your life was a torture before, after that it became a hell. Whole year you spent learning all kinds of manners that wife of male with such high position had to know. They taught you what your place in the court and in the private would be, what you had to do to keep it, they beat it into you, breaking you again and again until there were no errors and you were perfectly submissive.

You also had to become an outstanding dancer because your future husband seemed to have a special interest in dance. Even now your toes were still bleeding into your shoes as your last lesson ended right before the departure.

In every aspect you had to be perfect and worthy of High Lord of Autumn. Lady of Autumn Court, your future husband's mother, was given to you as a model of such a perfect wife. Quiet, obedient, representative, beautiful.

Perfect doll to be ruined by her husband when no one was looking.

You feared the future but you had no choice.

You slightly moved the curtain to look out and see the bits of the country behind the window. Because of the nap you lost track of time. Your heart squeezed in dread when you found out you were already in a forest full of red and yellow and golden brown leaves. You had never seen an autumn foliage with your own eyes, but even you with your limited knowledge knew that these were colours of Autumn. You were getting closer to your final ordeal.

It took another hour or two and carriage stopped. Before you could reach for the doorknob, the door flew open and your father's always angry face came to view.

"Get out now," he ordered. He seemed to be in quite a good mood today.

You immediately moved closer to the door and get off. Your heels clicked on the sandstone in the courtyard of a beautiful castle, but you had no time to look around as father shoved you to the entrance. Bowing your head, you submitted.

At the gate you were welcomed by High Lord's advisor, a male with rather a cool demeanour, and some maids who took you to the chamber where you were supposed to get ready and wait until the ceremony began. You didn't bother to even try to lift your gaze, you were too scared to look at people directly. Whenever you dared to look at someone, most of them had no face in your eyes, only an empty mask. You distinguished people mainly by their voices.

You felt your father staring after you coldly as you silently followed the maids, his gaze felt like a sharp knife poking into your back. You were scared he would follow you because you were his priced ticket to wealth now, but soon he turned around and walked away with the advisor in the opposite direction.

Maids were quiet and quick as they helped you to bath and dress. They skilfully braided your long hair into a complicated hairstyle, attached the veil to it, letting it fall down and cover your face. When they were done, with a slight bow they left.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding the entire time they were hopping around you. Nobody bothered to inform you how much time you had left, but it didn't matter anyway. You couldn't run away from your fate.

You were sitting at the vanity table where they left you, looking at the ground as you were taught, your mind empty. You couldn't even mourn the life that you never had and never would have. They successfully turned you into a puppet, a blank canvas ready for your husband to paint on.

Soft knock sounded on the doors and a female's voice called that it's time. You slowly stood up with bowed head and stepped out from the chamber. Small maid led you through corridors and halls to a chapel.

You'd like to look around, wanting to see at least something of your wedding day worth of memorising it, but your father was already waiting for you, angrily tapping his foot.

"Good for nothing as usual," he grunted. "How long do you think we have to wait for you?"

"I'm sorry, father," you said in a small voice.

"Speak properly! You are like your mother, useless. Thankfully from now on, you will be your husband's burden."

He offered you an arm and you immediately took it not wanting to make him any more angry. Together you got ready at the threshold and as music started to play you stepped inside.

The chapel seemed to be quite spacious, full of warm light and crowded with guests. As you walked to the altar you caught glimpses of gold, yellow and white decorations. Your father halted, a pair of shiny black boots stepped closer. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that your father was smiling kindly. You were shocked. It was the first time you saw such expression on his cruel face.

Your father said something to that male and he answered. Your heart was beating so fast and loudly that you hardly heard the music. Father took your hand and offered it to the male who surprisingly gently accepted it. Fingers that wrapped around yours were pale and long just as in that nightmare, but instead of icy cold you felt warmth seeping into your skin. Your father stepped away, leaving you with this male. The transaction was apparently successful.

"Can we?"

A deep voice spoke lowly, snapping you out of the new kind of darkness that began to pull you into its void. You inhaled sharply. It wasn't that deadly voice that haunted you in sleep but a quite pleasant, rich one that felt like a warm blanket, a liquid honey flowing into your ears that were used to only harsh words. Rich aroma of spicy cinnamon and apples roasted on fire filled your nose.

You nodded, still not daring to look up. He led you to the altar where a priestess was waiting for you. As you stood before her, he turned to you one more time. His fingers touched the edge of the veil, lifting it up. You kept your eyes down as you were taught.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

Carefully, inch by inch you raised your eyes, taking in first his trousers in cream colour, then his elegant tailored moss jacket with gold details that hugged his chest perfectly. He didn't look like a mass of muscles as the general of Night Court did even though before he had the same rank. Your soon-to-be husband seemed to be rather lean, but definitely a warrior with muscles on right places. And so tall, impossibly tall, that you hardly reached up to his shoulders.

It felt like forever until your gaze finally reached his face. Like in the nightmares it was pale with bright amber eyes and high cheekbones, his nose was straight and lips full. He wasn't smiling, yet corners of his mouth seemed to be twisted in a permanent smirk. In golden rays of sun penetrating through a round window behind the altar, his red hair had a warm shade, and looked so silky that you had to wonder how it would feel to touch them. Now cut much shorter than the last time you saw him, he just casually combed them back, a few unruly strands falling on his forehead.

His eyes roamed over your face, brows lightly furrowed, then one corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. He was handsome, attractive, there was no doubt about it. You expected him to have the cool, cruel aura you noticed before and he didn't disappoint, but as you were watching him for a while, in his eyes there was something you'd never seen before. Perhaps it was kindness, but what did you know. It was just a foreign word to you, something you never experienced.

It was confusing.

He didn't say if he liked what he saw, his expression gave nothing away. He just turned to priestess, signalling her with a nod of the head to begin the ceremony. You allowed your eyes to linger and watch his profile a little longer before your gaze again slid down to the floor. Hardly perceiving priestess's words, you returned to that quiet place in your mind where you felt safe from the world.

When the ceremony was over, Eris leaned down, gazing at you. This was the part when the groom should kiss the bride. You stayed still, expecting him to move, but he was just waiting. You looked up with silent question in eyes. As soon as your full attention was on him, he moved forward and his lips sealed over yours in a tender kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, breath caught in your throat. You expected anything from him except of this. He didn't close his eyes either, closely watching your reaction.

Eris tasted like honey and some alcohol. It was a strange combination, but not unpleasant. His lips slightly moved against yours, testing the waters and then it was over.

As if nothing had happened he straightened up and turned to the crowd, offering you an arm. You exhaled shakily, internally shouting at your body to move. You couldn't keep him waiting. Your fingers gripped on his sleeve. Still weak in your knees you could only wish that you wouldn't fall down.

His other hand went up to yours on his arm, adjusting it. Holding it firmly he tugged you closer and led you to the ballroom where the party would take a place.

Why did he behave like this? Did he genuinely care? Or did he notice your state and wanted to just prevent an embarrassing incident? He was supposed to be cruel. Everyone said that about him. Was it just some kind of masquerade and later he would make you pay for your mistakes? You were so confused and nervous.

The celebration program was simple. The ceremony was to be followed by a banquet and finally a party. When you came into the impressive ballroom decorated in the same colours as the chapel, the tables were already bending under the amount of deliciously looking food.

Eris led you to the table in the centre, a bit higher than the rest. He held a chair for you and then took a seat on your right. The other chairs were gradually filled as the guests were coming. Your father was seated at the table on your left, giving you a cold stare. Shiver ran down your spine and your heart started to beat faster. You knew that face. Whatever you had done he was very displeased right now.

Your husband inconspicuously leaned closer.

"Is everything alright?" he asked lowly, eyeing still coming guests. Did he hear your heartbeat even over this noise?

"Of course, my lord," you blushed, focusing on your hands folded on your skirt under the table.

Eris's eyes narrowed on you and then his gaze moved behind you to your father. He immediately stopped frowning at you and instead he conjured a pleasant smile at his new son-in-law. Eris made a small displeased noise and looked away.

When everyone took their seats Eris stood up to give a short speech and a toast. You took a goblet with wine but didn't drink. Could not. You weren't allowed to drink alcohol.

After your husband a dark haired male stood up to toast to newly wed couple. As he spoke you recognized the voice of your High Lord.

Nervously you swallowed.

It was unexpected, but not incomprehensible. Of course he was here. A member of his Court married his ally. This wedding was an important political event. There were certainly also other allied High Lords between the guests. The most powerful beings of this country had eyes on you. And your husband? He was one of them. Not an ordinary High Fae or some aristocrat. A High Lord.

Sudden realisation hit you hard and you felt a growing nausea, heart throbbing in your throat.

When everyone was done toasting, silent servants appeared seemingly from nowhere and started to serve the food to the plates. Not remembering when you had eaten for the last time was your last concern. You were too nervous and frightened to even think about the food right now.

Eris seemed to notice that you were just poking the vegetables with a fork around the plate, pretending you were eating as everyone around.

"Isn't the meal to your taste?" he asked with raised brows quietly.

Under the table you clenched fingers into the skirt of your dress. This male could turn you into a pile of ash if he wanted.

"Everything is delicious, my lord," swallowing hard you answered in a small shaky voice.

He just huffed and after a while returned to his plate and the conversation he had before. You bit on your lower lip. Did you offend him? Would he punish you later? You were on the verge of crying. From the other side of the table you could feel your father's angry gaze. Breathing raggedly you willed the tears back and put down the fork. Your trembling hand reached for a glass of water. Focussing on not spilling it's content, you brought it to your red painted lips and took a sip. You needed to pull yourself together, to overcome it. The show wasn't over yet.

By the time the clattering of cutlery has died down, you managed to calm down a bit. Music that played whole the time, got louder and some of the guests moved to the parquet.

Eris turned to you once again, his eyes lingering on your face. He seemed to think about something. For a brief moment his lips pursed into a thin line.

"We have to dance the first dance. It's a tradition," he spoke coldly.

"Yes, my lord."

You already knew that and you were more than ready even though your healing toes still hurt. This wouldn't be the first time you had to suppress the pain and pretend everything was okay. You could do this.

Despite the too high expectations of your teachers and father, you loved dance. It was the only quite funny activity you were ever allowed to do.

High Lord helped you to stand up and led you to the centre of the parquet. The guests created a circle around you.

Eris's warm hand heavily landed on your waist, holding you firmly, his fingers leaving marks on your skin through the corset. The sudden roughness surprised you and you slightly winced. Thankfully nobody seemed to notice it, not even your husband. Taking your other hand into his, you two took a position and started to move at the exactly same time to the rhythm of the song in a small circles. Eyes pinned to his strong chest right in front of you, you performed your best.

You moved gracefully as you were taught, small sparks in your veins slowly becoming a fire, consuming you. After the first rather stiff steps, your body relaxed and you blended in with the melody, becoming the music. The long skirt of your dress was sweeping the floor with every your step, looking like a flowing mountain stream. You loved that feeling. Eris spun you and you made a perfect pirouette so fast that you whirled two times. Someone in the watching crowd gasped in amazement, several others applauded.

If you dared to look up, you would see the fire in your husband's eyes and a wide smile. He was enjoying this, too, more than he was willing to admit.

The two of you started dancing in bigger and bigger circles, your every move faster than the last one. The crowd around had turned into a blurry smudge, but none of you minded. Eris decided to test you by changing the steps and adding figures, and you responded to every change with ease, without a mistake.

As the song was coming to its end, your husband decided to end the dance with a pretty deep dip. Your back arched under his fingers and suddenly you came face to face with him, your noses almost touching. Your eyes widened in surprise.

Two blazing amber eyes were piercing you with genuine interest, wolfish grin on his lips. His usual merciless expression was replaced by something wild, beautiful and kind of dangerous. He was mesmerising. You were definitely playing with a fire when you reached up, tips of your fingers lightly touching his jaw. Eris blinked and it was gone.

He straightened up and you followed, once again scared that you possibly made a fatal error when you touched his face.

Now all the guests were applauding. Looking around his cold gaze jumped from face to face. He didn't say anything as he bowed to you, kissing the back of your hand and then escorted you back to the table. Both of you were still heaving as you took your seats. He grabbed your glass of water and handed it to you. You thanked him to which he just responded with a nod. Then he took his empty goblet and held it out for the servant to fill it with wine. He drummed with fingers as he waited. As soon as the servant stepped back, he emptied the goblet again.

The musicians started to play another song and parquet filled with dancing pairs. When it seemed that nobody paid you attention any longer, without even looking in your direction Eris reached out under tha table, his fingers lightly brushing your arm from elbow down to your wrist. Finding your hand rested on your lap, he clasped it in his much bigger one and held it for the rest of the evening.

[daisybianca]

pairing: sebastian vettel x femalereader

summary: it's totally forbidden. he's older and your childhood and eternal crush, but there's more to that. his best friend--and your dad--is Michael Schumacher. one day, you're sick and stuck in your bed with a fever. he pays you a visit, and then the fever becomes even more brutal. HERE'S PART TWO.

warnings: sexual activities, jealousy, cursing words

(a/n): it's late at night, and I just wrote this, and I'm really, really sleepy. there might be multiple mistakes, grammar, and spelling, but HEY. the tension is still there! <3

IT HAD BEEN almost five days since everyone got informed that you were down with the flu. Michael Schumacher's beloved daughter was a concern about pretty much everyone in the paddock. Every single person cared deeply about you and Mick. Everybody knew that.

You got quite a few messages and texts from the drivers and team members in the past few days. You answered with polite, brief responses and made sure everyone knew you were just fine with the necessary drugs and medicine prescriptions.

The truth was that you had been feeling okay since a couple of days ago, but chose not to tell anyone. Rest on a bed all day was cool.

Opening your phone, you entered Instagram and wrote a brief thank you text to Daniel Ricciardo, who wished you a fast recovery. Scrolling through the app, you detected a post on your insta feed that was referring to Sebastian Vettell.

Oh, he was tour childhood crush.

Everybody freaking knew that.

You remembered that in an interview a few years ago with your father, a reporter had asked you whether or not you'd like to race for a F1 team and become a driver in the future. You response was fast and was definitely written in history. It almost immediately went viral, and people still talked about it on social media, leading to multiple fans shipping you and the famous world champion.

"No, I don't think I'm going to be a racing driver. But I'll marry one anyway, so it doesn't really matter." The spot played like a old cassette in your mind. A wide grin formed on your father's face and the reporter returned to you and lowered the microphone to reach your tiny height. You were barely 12 years old at that time.

"Who are you referring to? Lewis Hamilton? Do you like him, huh? British, humorous, handsome! He's totally so charming!"

"No, no, no, no!" Your father, Michael, bent over and picked you up in his strong arms. "I'm pretty sure the husband she's talking about is Vettell." He laughed again and you were so confused at the cameras and microphones and tons of people around you.

You were absolutely serious about craving to marry that man. He was something truly angelic to you, even though your innocent 12-year-old mind couldn't fathom how a real marriage worked.

"Oh, I get it! Blondes are better anyway!" The red-head reporter yelled and thanked you for the interview, before moving to the next driver.

You also remembered clearly the very first time you learned about Sebastian dating some girl.

A few of your dad's friends were gathered at your house, along with Sebastian. They talked about some weird strategies you couldn't analyze and had a great time together, but suddenly a question was fired at Sebastian, gaining your full attention.

"Seb, what's up with that blonde you've been going out with since last month?" A guy asked, and your gaze darkened. No one really noticed you eyeing the men behind the kitchen table. But that's what you wanted anyway.

"Who? Hannah? Oh, she seems okay, I guess." He took a sip from his bottle of beer and went on, his eyes lingering around the room. "She's hot, supportive and... not really smart but I don't mind, it's not like I'm going to marry her anyway."

They all laughed at Sebastian's words and you waited until most of the guys moved outside, near the pool in order to prepare the barbecue.

Approaching Sebastian, his eyes automatically landed up on you as he smiled.

"Hey, there, little one!" Sebastian greeted. You hated it when he called you little one. You were 17 at that time. In puberty and almost in adulthood.

"Don't call me that, Seb! I'm not 10 anymore!" You laughed and you got on your knees in front him, next to the couch.

He bent over and applied a peck on your forehead, just like he always adored to do. It was one of his special ways to show his platonic affection to you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He smiled and got up, walking to the kitchen. He came back a few moments later and handed you an orange juice.

"I'd prefer the beer you're holding, thank you very much." You pushed the plastic carton of juice away and got up to grab the beer from Seb's hands. He tossed it away immediately.

"Your father would kill me, love."

Oh, love.

What a word to hear from his beautiful, full lips.

You bite your lips. Hard.

Your female hormones had been raging since a couple of years ago due to puberty. And Sebastian Vettel was so not helping with that.

You formed a fake sad face, and he sat to the couch again.

You'd love to sit in his lap right now. You used to do that when you were a little. You would wrap your hands around his neck... and stare at his baby blue eyes forever.

If the desire to sit in Seb's lap was a drug, you were totally and undoubtedly a drug addict.

But you couldn't do it now. Sebastian wouldn't let something like that happen.

A few moments later, you were sat beside him on the couch, drinking enormous sips from the juice Seb had offered you.

"It's tasty." You told him after you caught his gaze upon you.

"Um... I guess so."

You blinked a couple of times.

"Soooo... you have a girlfriend?" Your voice was steadier than you thought it'd come out.

"I don't know." He thought for a second. "It's complicated."

You automatically dragged the thin material of your cozy dress lower on your thighs when you caught his eyes traveling their for a tiny, brief moment.

"Are you in love with her?" You asked without hesitating and ignoring the previous incident.

"In love?" He repeated. "Jesus, no. I don’t think I've ever been in love before."

You didn't know if the scorching burning in your chest was a good thing. You were glad he hadn't been in love with anyone before, but simultaneously you weren't.

"Have you?" Sebastian's question caught you off guard.

"Who? Me?" Yes, you wanted to yell at him. But didn't. "No. I'm almost 17 and barely had any experiences in my love life."

"That's not certainly a bad thing." He mumbled, drinking from his beer, his lips almost immediately absorbing the liquid.

Germans loved beers. Sebastian Vettel was no exception to that rule.

"What? Having zero experiences in that area?" You asked.

It wasn't like you hadn't been kissed before. You had. Twice. By two different boys. But nothing compared to the love life other teenagers had the chance of experiencing at your age.

"Yes. It's a good thing, to say at least." His eyes were so threatening. Like there was a hidden meaning behind them.

But maybe it was just something your mind created due to the fact that... this man... oh, Gosh... you had never desired anything or anyone like him.

"Why?" You looked at him and his gaze found yours.

"You should wait for the right one." He smiled simply.

You looked at him and wanted to say that he was all you wanted. But you fucking couldn't. And that was drowning your feelings for him in deep, dark oceans.

"The heart wants what it wants." You pronounced, and Seb didn't quite get your words.

He didn't want to anyway. He knew damn well that your feelings about him were intense since you were a little kid.

The obsessed, recless, lovesick teen. That's what you thought Seb would describe you as. Little did you know he had the exact opposite opinion of you.

Seb was your frustration.

He thought you were like a daughter to him at that time. Little did he know you'd do anything to keep your promise in the future.

Bottled-up feelings. Intense feelings, unexplained issues. He caused that to you. All of it. And he didn't even know.

°•°

You were almost 19 now.

Age was by your side and the age gap between you and Seb wasn't that intense. Only 11 years. You had met multiple couples before with even bigger age difference and they lived with it in happiness and with pride.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled a big breath.

You felt greedy, insatiable.

Seb continued being pretty much the number one reason why you still had a good opinion of the masculine sex but you were careful and avoided showing it to everyone anymore. Paparazzi and the media always tended to make things even bigger.

It was just a few minutes before noon when a knock on the door sounded like a thunderous lightning in your sensitive ears. You hadn't communicated with a singe soul in a couple of days because you wouldn't risk infecting anyone else with the virus, even though you already feeling extremely better.

Beforing bothering to hear you climbing out of the bed, a familiar figure of a male swung the door open and closed it sat afterwards, swaying the keys in his hands.

"Seb?" Your voice was weak as you got out of the coziness of your bed and approached the door. "How the hell do you have my keys?"

The German man turned to you and gestured to be sat on the bed once again, as if you were so fragile and threatened to break just because of a silly virus. Sebastian was so dramatic. But you didn't. complain as you gained your soft spot on the mattress again because his white button-up shirt blurt your thoughts and your vision. He had rolled the light fabric on his wrists, highlighting even more his rough hands.

"I asked Mick to lend them to me so I could pass by here and check up on my favorite girl."

His words buzzed in your ears.

What did he just say?

He used to call you random nicknames, some of them cute and others... kind of silly, but 'my favorite girl'?

That was too much for your complicated mind to analyze.

Sebastian sat down opposite of you.

As he faced you and said absolutely nothings, his state felt scorching. Like a burning flame, attempting to read your thoughts, which were too hard to be hidden between the curtains of your eyelashes.

You had always known he could read you like an open book. And you always hated that exceptional ability of his.

Sometimes, he could unearth thoughts in you that no one else could. Not even your father, nor your brother, and sometimes not even you...

"How are you feeling, (y/n)?" His soft smile faded, blue, intense eyes focused on you, eyeing you from head to toes as if he could detect any physical pain just by observing your body.

"How do I look?" You fired back, without hesitation.

You didn't mean to sound flirtatious at all. But... oh, well, the look on Sebastian's face read something entirely different...

You were kind of mad at him that he chose to pass by your apartment without calling or messaging you first. You tried to make him gather that without saying it, but your tone didn't come out the way that you wanted it to.

"If you ask me, you don't look ill at all." Sebastian crossed his arms, his veins popping out of the white fabric. "You look... I don't know..." He gave in, eyes traveling everywhere in the room but you.

You felt a warm wave of air coming your way from the opened windows, so you chose to unzip your thin cardigan a little bit more. Your grey sweatpants were too hot for you at the moment, but the idea of changing into something more loose didn't occur to you earlier.

"Sebastian, I look like a fucking sloth that's been eating leafy greens, rice and pasta for five days in a row!" You laughed but the blond man didn't seem to be amused by your humorous comment. When you faced his cold state, your expression transformed into something more serious. "Why didn't you call before visiting?"

"The answer is too simple and you're too smart to even ask." He shrugged, annoyed. "Because I know you wouldn't let me come."

You hadn't seen Sebastian like that never before. He seemed... different. He always used to laugh with you, enjoy some movies, play video games or boarding games with you for fun...

But now...

He looked so changed and you can't understand why.

"Why wouldn't I let you come, Seb?"

He took a deep, deep breath before answering. "Because you're just as stubborn as me. I wouldn't let you come and visit me while I'm sick either. Even though you--"

Your phone buzzed with a notification on the nightstand, causing Seb's speech to come to a hault.

Another notification popped up and the screen illuminated once again.

One more and then another one...

You stretched your whole body and grabbed your device. Glancing at the screen, you read five unanswered messages from Lando.

This guy tries to catch up with you always when the time isn't right.

Sebastian got up from the chair near your desk. "Who is it?" He asked, trying to keep the coolness in his tone.

"A friend."

"Is it Norris?" Seb snapped.

You instantly looked up from your screen. "How the hell do you know Norris texts me?"

Sebastian smirked and took a seat close to you on the bed. But he was still too far. You needed him closer to make you forget about your frustration with him.

"A spend three quarters of my day with your brother."

"Oh, Mick, you're such a traitor." You muttered to yourself as you shoved your phone under the sheets.

"He just cares about you. We all do." Seb seemed to hesitated for his upcoming words. "You'll always be our best girl."

Our?

Fuck. It felt like he tried so hard to hide his thoughts.

But they say that the eyes are the window to your soul.

"Seb, are you flirting with me?" You shot, keeping your voice calm and steady.

"You want me to stop?" His answer was instant, causing your entire body and face to redden.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You'd been waiting for this moment almost 20 years and now... that it was finally happening, you didn't know what to do.

"No," you muttered. "But I expected you to do something more than that. You were always the brave one, remember?"

Whatever it took to fulfill your eternal dream.

Seb stood up and did something you never expected him to do. Even though every part of you craved this moment to come in many dreams.

He kneeled in front you.

Fuck.

His blue eyes were the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. "Seb, what are you--"

"Open your legs for me, love." He murmured, looking up at you with his fingers genrly pressing on your bare thigh.

You felt your cheeks redden. Again.

It felt insane how instant your body's reaction was to his words and touch. As if it had a mind of its own.

Seb's voice forced you back to reality when you realized you stared at him speechless. "I won't repeat myself."

You shivered and opened up your legs for him, welcoming his warm and long fingers.

"You won't kiss me?" Your voice was barely audible.

"I'm not going to make it that easy for you, babe."

"W-what do you mean?"

A smirk appeared. "I suppose you'll have to beg for it."

♡♡♡

Part 2.

[boundinparchment]

Kinetic Harvest

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

Boothill/Gender Neutral Reader oneshot. Can be read as a pairing or not. Dottore reference if you squint. Not beta read.

Leaks used as a base, read at your own discretion. On AO3 here.

Reblogs are appreciated.

Desperation drove most to your doorstep, trembling as their bellies stoked fires so strong they made suns pale in comparison. Their eyes darted, assessing the clean office and workshop, as if they were wondering the validity of the rumors. A back-alley mechanic who took the money of criminals, crooks, and high society alike had to certainly have signs of that wealth. Or perhaps they thought morality was tied to cleanliness.

You cared not.

And they only cared whether you could fix their problem.

It made for a very convenient workflow.

But the man who sat before you was a deviation from that norm. He was surefooted, a little curious in the way his head turned to gaze about the darkened space. His eyes lingered not on you but on the prosthetic arm you kept behind your desk, the finger joints extended and the gun attachment on the wrist popped out, unloaded.

Never gave his name but you liked his drawl. You’d heard it from folks in a distant system. Aeragan-Epharshel was an ancient land, home to a language as old as the green plains and permafrosted mountains and dusty canyons; you were certain your mentor would have loved it there. So much to explore and learn from those who came before.

The stranger told you a story of a boy who grew up taming horses and identifying plants. Caring for everything around him. Isolated though the planet was, it was not without a law of entropy and a reciprocity that few ever even knew existed anymore. Of a child whose smile lit up a room like the sun itself.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his eyes when he stood a bullet up on your desk. In the glint of the lamplight, you caught three letters: IPC.

The one party you never took funding or clients from. The Interstellar Peace Corporation was, quite ironically, stood for the exact opposite, in your opinion.

“You specialize in cybernetics,” the man tilted his head as he leaned back in his seat. The wood squeaked. “And rumor has it, you go beyond the usual…modifications. I ain’t done in this universe ‘til that bullet is buried in the skull of the leech that sucks planets dry.”

His words were pinched tight by this teeth, jaw on edge. This man, this stranger off the streets, knew what he wanted and you wondered how many others in your profession turned him away. Plenty would. There was a liability in taking the human form too far, both ethically and bureaucratically. Too much red tape, too much diffusing of pre-conceived notions.

No wonder your mentor chose the path of eternal funding and embraced his legacy.

“Before you tell me, ‘No’,” the man drawled. “Know that I have endured harsher summers and brutal winters than most o’ your so-called patients, doc. I can handle what needs to be done.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you replied, fingers reaching for the bullet and holding it up to the light.

Those who were so glued to their convictions made for difficult clients, though. They were stubborn.

Worse, really, you reminded yourself as you looked up and noticed the barrel of a gun staring back at you. No one would stand between a hunter and his prey.

“I ain’t got the money. Not now. But with your…assistance, I can make it worth your while. Consider me a lifetime customer.”

You put the bullet back on your desk, a peace offering. He took it back and tucked it away, gun still trained on you.

“I don’t work on those who threaten me.”

A second, and then two, before he clicked his teeth and holstered the weapon. He gestured with open hands to demonstrate he was unarmed and then folded them in his lap.

“You’ll have a difficult road ahead,” you advised. “Years of assembly.“

“A full cybernetic body that preserves my noggin and my perfect eyesight is hardly unreasonable. It’s been done. Everyone knows you studied hidden away from the Aeons, under the Heretic. He’s dead, o’ course, but if I were a gamblin’ man…”

“You don’t strike me the type.”

“I ain’t,” the words came out strained, frustrated with a huff of breath. “A waste o’ money and time. Frivolous. All I’m sayin’ is…if I wanted the easy way out, I wouldn’t be here. I know what I’m signin’ up for.”

Your eyes traced his haggard face, white hair with tinges of black that had seen better days, a muscular frame trimmed a little too lean in places due to malnutrition. A hat more pristine than his dusty pants.

“Lay down over on the table,” you jerked your head in the direction of the vivisection table off to the side of your workshop. “We’ll start with your measurements.”

The man let out a slow exhale, one you didn’t dare attribute to relief. He rose with a steadiness you recognized only in those who trusted in their abilities and convictions, who would succeed not just through skill but by the cognitive bias that they embraced with every fiber of their being.

“Just promise me one thing, cowboy,” you said, collecting a tablet from your desk.

He turned, weight shifted to cock his hip impatiently.

“I don’t want your money. But when we’re done, you’ll tell me your name. I want to know what to call the one who succeeds in gutting the IPC.”

He smiled, crooked and charming, and you wondered if you ever saw eyes sparkle like that in this office before.

“It’s a deal, doc.”

[librababe99]

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part Two|

cw: 18+, MDNI, Jason Todd (Red Hood), gn! Reader, blood, injury, emotional trauma, self loathing, anger and violence, mental health struggles, SLOW BURN word count: 2.9K summary: Red Hood returns to your clinic after a brutal fight, more emotionally shattered than ever. As you tend to his physical injuries, the vigilante finally removes his mask revealing both his true identity and the emotional scars that run even deeper than his physical wounds.

a/n: Decided to take a break from my epidemiology course and churn out the second part to this series! Thank you for the interactions with part one... it makes me happy seeing it reach people--if you'd like to leave feedback or want to be tagged for this just drop a comment below! Happy Reading <3

(part one) | (DC Masterlist) | (Part three)

The night Red Hood stumbled into your clinic felt different, even before you saw the state he was in. The familiar creak of the back door announced his arrival, but the sound was sluggish, as if even the door sensed the weight of his presence tonight. The air seemed heavier too, thick with a tension that hadn’t existed in your previous encounters. You heard the faint shuffle of his boots against the tile, the drag of his body as he moved, and immediately you knew something was wrong—terribly wrong.

He stepped into the dim light of the room, his silhouette barely visible in the flickering glow of the overhead bulb. You could tell right away he was worse off than usual. He wasn’t just hurt; he was shattered, more broken than you’d ever seen him. Blood poured from gashes in his side, and the fabric of his suit was torn and darkened with dried crimson, almost as if it had fused with the wounds underneath. Sweat slicked his skin, shining under the weak fluorescent light, and mixed with the blood in a gruesome pattern that made his normally imposing figure seem even more tragic.

His footsteps were slow, labored, and when he finally sat down in the chair by your desk, he slumped into it like a man carrying the weight of the world. His chest heaved with erratic breaths, his broad shoulders rising and falling as though even the act of breathing was a battle. His usually sharp, unrelenting posture was gone, replaced by exhaustion so deep it seemed to settle in his very bones.

“You’re lucky I’m still awake,” you muttered, grabbing your medical supplies with hands that were steadier than you felt. Your voice was automatic, almost muscle memory at this point, but when you turned to look at him—really look at him—you stopped short.

The words died on your lips.

This wasn’t the Red Hood You knew. The cold, hard-edged vigilante who usually stormed into your clinic with a snarl and a bitter remark was gone. In his place was something fragile, something broken beyond repair. His shoulders sagged, his arms limp at his sides. Blood trickled down his body, pooling at the base of the chair, but that wasn’t what made you freeze. It was the way he looked at you—like he wasn’t entirely sure if he was still real.

He didn’t snap back at you this time. Didn’t bristle, didn’t mutter one of his usual retorts about how he didn’t need anyone’s help, especially not yours. No, this time, he was quiet. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it filled the room like a suffocating fog.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands—gloved, as always—and flexed his fingers as though testing whether he could still feel. He took a long, shuddering breath, and his fingers drifted toward the edge of his helmet.

You watched, your heart hammering in your chest, as he hesitated for the briefest moment. His hand hovered near the helmet’s edge, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. It was a gesture you’d seen before—one that indicated he was about to let his guard down, though never quite as fully as this. But tonight, there was something final about the way he moved.

And then, with deliberate, almost painful slowness, he pulled the helmet away.

It was like watching a wall crumble, slowly, painfully, revealing what had always been hidden behind it. The helmet came off with a quiet hiss, the sound almost too soft for the enormity of the moment. And there he was—Jason Todd, unmasked, laid bare in a way you’d never seen before. The boy who had died and somehow returned, a ghost reborn in flesh and blood.

His dark hair, matted and damp with sweat, clung to his forehead in disarray. His skin, pale and almost sickly under the clinic’s harsh lighting, was marred by bruises, cuts, and dirt. But it was his face—his bare, vulnerable face—that stole your breath away. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones now hollowed by exhaustion, and a long, jagged scar that ran from his temple to his chin.

That scar was a reminder of the death he’d once suffered, of the violence that had stolen him away from the world only to bring him back, changed—scarred not just in body, but in soul. His lips, usually pressed into a firm, unyielding line, were slightly parted, as if every breath he took was a struggle. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the labored breaths ragged and strained.

But his eyes—you didn’t let yourself look at his eyes just yet.

Instead, you focused on the scar, on the reminder of all that had happened to him, of the darkness he had endured and the horrors that had shaped him. It should have been the most shocking thing about him, but it wasn’t.

The most shocking thing was how broken he looked—how utterly, irreparably shattered.

“I died,” Jason said suddenly, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He spoke the words softly, like they weren’t meant to be heard, as if saying them too loudly would make them hurt more. “And then I came back. But not like they wanted. Not like I wanted.”

His confession hit you harder than any of the wounds you’d ever treated. It wasn’t just the words—though those were devastating enough—it was the way he said them. His voice was hollow, distant, like he was recounting something from a nightmare he still hadn’t fully woken up from.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart clenched painfully in your chest. You moved closer, taking in the full extent of his injuries, and began cleaning the wounds with practiced, methodical movements. But your mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragmented puzzle of Jason Todd. The boy who had been Robin. The boy who had died. The man who had returned, not as the hero he once was, but as something darker—something forged in vengeance and rage.

Jason flinched slightly as you pressed a clean cloth against a particularly deep gash on his side, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, letting you work in silence, the weight of his confession still hanging heavily in the air between you.

As you stitched him up, he started talking again, his words coming in fits and starts, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say them but couldn’t stop himself. “I used to think… if I just kept fighting, kept going after the ones who hurt me, it would get easier. That the pain would stop, eventually.” His voice was rough, a rawness in it that you hadn’t heard before. “But it doesn’t. It never does.”

His words settled over you like a shroud, wrapping around your heart and squeezing tight. He wasn’t just talking about his physical wounds anymore—he was talking about the emotional ones, the ones that cut deeper than any knife ever could.

You glanced up at him briefly, your hands still moving with steady precision as you closed another wound. “Jason…” you started, but you weren’t sure what to say. What could you say to someone who had been through what he had? Who had died and come back to a world that hadn’t made space for him?

Jason didn’t meet your gaze. His eyes were focused on some point far beyond the walls of your clinic, as though he was staring into the past—into the darkness that had swallowed him whole and spat him back out.

“I’m not… who I was,” he continued after a long pause, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “I’m not Robin anymore. I don’t think I ever really was, even back then.”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the quiet resignation in his voice. There was no anger, no bitterness—just a deep, bone-deep sorrow. A weariness that went beyond the physical.

“I’ve tried to be something else,” he said, almost to himself now, his gaze still distant. “Tried to be what I thought I had to be. What Gotham needed. But…” He shook his head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

His words cut through you like a knife, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. You could see the toll this life had taken on him—the relentless fight, the endless war he waged against the criminals of Gotham, against the shadows of his own past. It had worn him down, broken him in ways you weren’t sure could ever be repaired.

And yet, here he was. Sitting in front of you, bleeding and bruised, but still here. Still fighting, even if he didn’t know why anymore.

You finished the last stitch and leaned in closer, your face just inches from his. Your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself staring at his lips, at the shallow, ragged breaths he was taking. For a moment, you hesitated. Your hand hovered over his chest, your pulse quickening as the space between you seemed to shrink.

Jason’s eyes finally flicked up to meet yours, and for the first time since he’d pulled off the helmet, you let yourself look into them.

They were dark, deeper than you could have imagined, filled with a storm of emotions you couldn’t begin to untangle—pain, anger, regret, fear. And something else. Something softer, more fragile. Vulnerability.

Your heart raced as your gaze locked with his, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming. For a split second, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in the dim clinic, suspended in that fragile moment. Your hand hovered just above Jason’s chest, fingers trembling slightly as you felt the tension in the air, thick and charged with something unspoken. His breath hitched, his lips parting ever so slightly, and in that instant, everything felt raw, vulnerable, and terrifyingly real.

The space between you seemed to close on its own. Your lips hovered near his, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, hear the faint, irregular rhythm of his breathing. Your heart pounded in your chest, louder than the quiet sounds of the city outside, louder than the doubts in your mind. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to close that final inch, to bridge the gap between you and him.

But just as your lips were about to meet, Jason pulled back.

It wasn’t a sudden movement, not a sharp rejection, but a slow retreat—a careful, deliberate withdrawal, as if he were trying to stop himself before he crossed a line he wasn’t ready to face. His eyes, so full of stormy emotion just moments before, shuttered. The vulnerability that had been there, fleeting and fragile, was replaced by something harder. Something broken.

Jason dropped his gaze, his jaw tightening as he leaned back in the chair, putting more distance between you. His hands clenched into fists in his lap, knuckles white beneath the dark fabric of his gloves. The air between you, once thick with potential, now felt colder, emptier.

"I can't," he muttered, his voice rough and barely above a whisper. "I can't do this. Not with you."

Your heart sank at his words, but you knew—on some level—you understood. This was Jason Todd, after all. A man who had lived through death, who had clawed his way back from the grave only to find the world colder, more unforgiving than ever. He had built walls around himself—impenetrable, unscalable walls—and you had just seen them start to crumble, but they hadn’t fallen completely. Not yet.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, giving him the space he so clearly needed. “Jason,” you started, your voice gentle, “I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give.”

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you thought you saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or relief. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, buried beneath layers of self-loathing and doubt.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his tone harsh now, frustration creeping into his voice. "I’m not… I’m not someone you should get close to. Everyone who does—everyone who tries—they end up getting hurt. Or worse."

You shook your head, your chest tight with the weight of his words. “You’re not responsible for what happens to other people, Jason. You don’t have to carry that burden alone.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and cold. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I was dead. Do you understand that? Dead. And I came back, but I wasn’t the same. I’m not the same. And I don’t deserve—”

“Stop.” You interrupted him, stepping closer once more. “Stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he looked away, his eyes dark with a mixture of anger and pain. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” he said again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose you, too.”

His admission hit you like a punch to the gut. He was pushing you away, not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. He was terrified of letting you in, of what it would mean to open himself up to someone again—to risk the pain of losing another person he cared about.

Your heart ached for him, for the boy who had once been Robin, full of hope and light, and for the man he had become—hardened, scarred, and deeply, irreparably broken by the weight of everything he had endured.

But even so, you couldn’t walk away. You couldn’t just let him drown in his darkness, not when you knew there was still a part of him that wanted to fight, that wanted to feel something other than pain and rage.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. His body tensed at the contact, but he didn’t pull away this time. “You’re not alone, Jason,” you said softly. 

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at your hand on his arm as though he couldn’t quite believe it was real. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, his body seemed to relax ever so slightly beneath your touch.

He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. The silence between you was enough, a fragile truce in the midst of all the chaos and pain.You stayed with him for a long time that night, tending to his wounds in silence. But something had shifted between you, a crack in the walls he had built around himself. And though it was small, though it was fragile, it was a start.

The next few nights were quiet. Jason didn’t come back right away, and you tried not to let the growing ache in your chest consume you as the days slipped by without a word from him. You kept busy, focusing on your work, on the patients who came through your door with injuries and stories of their own.

But Jason was always there, a constant presence in the back of your mind, lingering like a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. You wondered where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe. If he was still trying to outrun the demons that haunted him.

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

Then, one night, just as you were about to close up for the evening, he returned.

He didn’t say anything when he stepped into the clinic, didn’t need to. You could see the tension in his body, the way his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the faint tremor in his hands that betrayed just how close he was to the edge.

This time, the mask was already off.

Jason’s face was pale, the shadows under his eyes even darker than before, and there was a wildness in his gaze that sent a chill down your spine. He looked like a man barely holding himself together, like he was seconds away from shattering completely.

You didn’t ask what had happened—you didn’t need to. The blood on his clothes, the bruises on his face, and the haunted look in his eyes told you enough.

Instead, you moved toward him, grabbing your supplies. “Sit down,” you said, your voice steady, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

He didn’t argue this time, didn’t resist. He just collapsed into the chair, his body folding in on itself like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His hands, trembling and bloodied, rested in his lap, and for the first time, you noticed the way his knuckles were bruised and raw.

“Jason…” you whispered, your voice breaking ever so slightly as you knelt in front of him. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer right away, just stared at his hands, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

“I went too far,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I lost control.”

His words were sharp, filled with a self-loathing that made your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“You’re not a monster,” you said softly, reaching out to gently cup his face. “You’re not beyond saving.”

Jason’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the fear there—the fear that he was, in fact, beyond saving. The fear that the darkness inside him had consumed him completely, and there was no coming back from it.

But you didn’t let go. You held on, refusing to let him drown in that fear.

[sukioyakio]

KÖÍNG BLURB/drabble (College au)

warning: SMUTT

Koíng being a loser and being tried of having a skinny body,and so he spend his time in the gym in the winter break.

Köíng being more built then before but is still is a loser.When the break was over he didn’t even really notice about the big changes In his body.

He walked into the hallways without caring about the shock faces or whisper in the hallways.He just went to his locker and got his books and went to the classroom.Where he sit in the same spot as he always does—all he cares is his education and of course his video games.

Everyone is talking about him and how much his changed,most of them were saying how he had a glow up.

And then you were one of the ones that Köíng despised;You were the most bratty person if not THE most bratty in the whole college ever.You were always bully him for enjoyment,for your own self stress relief,for fun.He hated how you looked down on him,how you flexed on your wealth on him.You had such an disrespectful mouth that would make him want to shut that mouth with something up.Your attitude was the same with that mouth. All you really needed was a lesson to be…taught.He would be lying if he said you weren’t gorgeous.

You with a big ego didn’t care whether Köíng had a glow up or how much his body changed.To you he will always be the little skinny nobody;the one you love to bully.And that would be your biggest mistake.

You were on the dirty floor of one the unused classroom,the same room you always bully him.And now your on all floors with your ass revealed to Köíng–your painties were somewhere in the room.Köíng was behind you,and your hands tied behind your back.Your is full of tears and ruined by Köíng hands spanking your ass with such intense pressure.

You were an absolute whimpering mess underneath Köíng.Begging him to stop abusing your poor ass.

Predator eyes boring into yours.Another slap towards your ass,As he watches it jiggle due to his impact.Looking at your pretty little pussy,getting wet from his spanking.

You wouldn’t believe how your body love this,how much your body betrayed you in this moment.

“Such a slut-all it took for you to stop being such a brat is some spanking”Köíng says in raspy low voice,enough for you to make you whimper in pain.An chuckle escapes his throat as he continues doing his lesson on you.

“Please-pls pls pls-please I’m sorry..s-Sorry”Your words filled with pleading,making him laugh at your words.Your words mean nothing towards him.

while you pant heavily like a dumb dog in heat, your ass painful from being spanked repetitively. “Such a very hoe-getting very wet from me spanking you.Your practically making an mess out of yourself slut” he says with another slap on your ass,your ass already having an redness from the spanking.

it was useless for you to get out of his trap,you felt something hard and long.You tense up.

“Wait!!no please Köíng-I can’t be fucked by y-you, ”You said with tears rapidly rolling down your faces,as you looked at him with an expression of pleading eyes and somewhat of disgust.Seeing his hard dick laying on top of your ass,and how big it is.

Ignoring your comments.

“Should’ve have been less of an brat towards me,but I’ll make you my perfect little brat for now”he says in an low husky voice as he grab his meatly cock and angle it towards your entrance,and slowly move it in your pussy.You never felt so sketched out and filled before.

Gasping for air,whimpering and panting as you grip the leather material that holds your hands.

Köíng smirks at your movements.It was just his tip inside your wet tight clit,He use one of his huge hands to hold your tied hands and thurst his whole veiny cock inside.And his other hand gripping tightly on your hip.

Thursting in an out of you in a brutal pace.Holding the your hands with a bruise grip.Your moans were mix with his Goans. The way your pussy clenches on his dick like a tight vine. “It like. .your…pussy-grab my dick s’o it can’t leave,such an greedy pussy”Köíng says in your ear his hot breath hit your ears,his breathing could be heard from you.

The sound of skin slapping could be heard,koing hard balls slapping against your sensitive clit.

“Ngh!!- ffuck kKöíng —afhhh ahh”You moaning,your back arches from his brutal pace.You were feeling so much pleasure from his meaty cock,at the same time pain.Feeling very vein of his cock–The way his stupid cock hits your cervix.You tears rolling down more—your pussy wrapping his cock so perfectly.

“M’hat happened to the brat that w‘as so cocky”He says breathlessly chuckling in a deep huzy voice.His pace brutal goes even faster then before if that a possible.

already cockdrunk,getting stupid off of his big dick. you're barely unable to mutter a coherent sentence out. “Köíng-Köíng kk-Köíng!! .. Köíng”You say like a prayer.As you cum around his dick,you show white when you cum,you thought he would slow down but no.

Hips slamming harder and harder into you, the tip of his cock hitting your spongy cervix.

THAT ALL I HAVE AND IT MY FIRST TIME WRITTING SMUTT SOO YEA and I don’t know how to continue this 😭😭

BUT THANKS TO MY pookie @scoobysnakz

✌️

SORRY FOR NOT POSTING

[queer-n-here]

Heyy! Hope your having a good day I was wondering if you could write something for Nikolai or Fyodor I never find any for them that male or dom

I don’t have a scenario or anything but maybe (breeding for Nikolai? 😭) or something

Bruv your username 😭😭🤣🤣

I'm posting today, but it's kinda rushed. I hope you still like it.

Contents: Breeding Nikolai since he wanted it so much

Warnings: Smut, tip male reader, breeding, a little bit of degradation.

It was almost pathetic, the intensity with which Nikolai wanted to be bred.

It was more than just a want, it was a NEED, and the way he pushed you down and climbed onto your lap was just one of the signs as to how far he'd go for it.

Wrapping his arms around your neck, he lowered himself onto your cock, his ass tight and clenching your red length, making you hiss and dig your fingers into Nikolai's waist.

He chuckled, engulfing your entire cock in himself. He began rocking back and forth on you, making you grit your teeth as he rode you impatiently. Nikolai placed a hand on your chest, a devilish grin on his face.

"Ah! [Name]!" His moans were pornographic, his movements way too fast, making sparks of pleasure shoot up your crotch. "I'll make you cum in me today whether you like it or not."

And you couldn't help but widen your eyes, realisation hitting.

You had insisted on wearing a condom most of the time when you two had sex, and when you hadn't, you'd always pulled out before cumming, making Nikolai whine and clutch your arms. You two had talked about cumming in him before, but your sole reason was that the clean up was too much. It was much easier to just wear a condom, and you were always lazy after sex, wanting nothing more but to idle.

Now, however, Nikolai had had enough of that flimsy reasoning. He wanted your fluids in him, and you couldn't stop him.

But all you did was smirk. "You want it so bad, hmm?"

Nikolai nodded, bouncing wildly on your cock as the bed beneath you two creaked in protest.

"My, how can I deny you, Niko?" And you flipped your positions, pushing Nikolai down and pressing his legs against his chest.

He immediately reached out to hold the back of his knees, keeping his legs spread wide for your use, begging asshole exposed, expression greedy and eyes earnest. You began fucking him, your pace brutal and destructive, the way you knew Nikolai liked it.

"Look at you, you've gotten so desperate now, hmm?" You said, teeth gritted as each Nikolai clenched around you every time your tip hit his walls. "You've to resort to stuff like this."

Nikolai nodded, huffs and pants leaving his mouth, interwined with moans. "Yeah! Want it... Want it so bad."

"Heh," You scoffed, hips rolling. Your pace increased, making Nikolai cry out and bite his lips, leaving them red and swelling. "How pretty,"

"Just for y- Hah!" He said. "Just for you... All for you!"

You lowered your gaze from his erotic expression to a scene even more lewd: the sight of cock slipping in and out of his hole, his ass jiggling with each of your thrusts as the sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room.

You hit a spongy spot in him, and he cried out, back arching under you as he clutched the sheets beneath him, expression ecstatic. "There! Right there! Nghh! Fuck me, [Name], fuck me harder!"

And so you did, shifting to hit that same spot in him again before bludgeoning your hips into his, pounding his pathetic little hole. Nikolai cried out, drool slipping down the side of his face as you fucked him senseless, the only thought in his head your cock and the cum in it.

"Give me... Hah, Mmph! Give me your kids!" He groaned pathetically, eyes blown out and blurred with tears as you continued your onslaught on him.

"Since you're so in need of it, baby, I might as well," You said. "Look at you, your hole is clenching so pathetically around my cock. You're nothing but a little slut, right? A little breeding machine for me to stuff full of my cock. You'll give me kids in return, hmm?"

And Nikolai nodded, blabbering incoherently about how he was your whore, begging you to use him as you please and let him take your cock. He needed it to survive, need YOU to survive. For what should he live if not to raise your kids?

"Damn, Niko," You hissed, feeling him clench around you at the thought. "If I'd known you wanted it this much, I would've turned you into my cock slut a while ago. You're better at taking my cock than you are at anything else."

He nodded frantically, hands rising to clutch your arms. "Only for you, [Name]! F- Ahh! Fuck me as much as you... As much as you like... I'll take it a-all!"

You couldn't help but speed up, making Nikolai's already vice-like grip on your arms tighten further as he threw his head back against the bed, sweat-laden hair sticking to his forehead. His moans grew louder.

"I'm close, ah! I'm so close...!" He panted, and you smirked.

"Will you cum before me?" You asked him. "Cum without receiving my load?"

He shook his head frantically. "N-no! Give it to me, [Name]! Cum in me, please?"

And you fucked Nikolai till you did, ropes of cum painting his walls white, the feeling of yourself in him more than enough to make his own untouched dick squirt. You slowed down to a stop, sweat dripping down your back.

"Damn," You pulled out with a loud squelch, making the panting man beneath you whine. "How messy,"

Nikolai whined again, louder, and you looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Stay..." He huffed, his eyes unfocused.

You couldn't help but smile.

[floppnopikka]

-ˋˏ ༻STANFORD PINES DATING HEADCANONS༺ ˎˊ-

He would call you nicknames like 'Dear' 'Love' 'My muse' and 'my Sirius A'

People in tiktok believes that he has NPD/Narcissistic Personality Disorder (which I also firmly believe) so expect him to be brutally honest with you that he unintentionally offended you in any way.

He's a genius in any terms of science yet a dork when it comes to romantic relationships and stuff, so your dates will always be science related such as experimenting, research of the unexplainable or genuinely ask him about the things he knows and what he's been learning.

In his entire life, no one has ever been curious on what he knew or does (except Fiddleford and probably Stanley) so if you ever ask him about what he does whether it's experiments, research, or theories in pure curiosity, this man will gladly explain them to you and will be smiling ear to ear.

If you know how to knit and you knit gloves for Stanford because winter is coming, he'll feel very appreciated because not only people tend to forget he has 6 fingers but also finds his fingers weird or abnormal. (probably how he feels to Fiddleford in the Book of Bill and Mabel in that one episode)

Stanford is godly when it comes to art, just like any artists needs their muse and that muse will be you. His lab room will be filled drawings and sketches of you. Although, his sketches of you are hidden so Stanley and Mabel wouldn't tease him about it.

His gifts for you are mainly built by him, a small robot that says 'Happy Valentine's day!' with a flower in hand, while Stanford smiles at you.

Now when you two have an argument, prepare for a never ending debates because this man doesn't back down when he knows he has something to defend on and that is himself.

When things gets worse, he would say something like "I had enough, this will never end because I'm right and you're wrong" or "I don't have time for this, believe whatever you like but in the end of the day, I am right" this happens rarely but when it does it doesn't end very well.

This is the red flag he has because people praised him to thinking he's always right and a literal genius but once you proved him wrong, he'll feel ashamed and wouldn't talk to you for a while not because he was proven wrong but because he didn't trust your judgement and he feels guilty about it.

"Look, I... I was wrong, once. And I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, I just thought you didn't know! because of that everything went wrong and you proved yourself right... I'm sorry, really..." he'll apologize, yes, but he still has that ego side of his.

Overall, just like Stanley, what he needs for a partner is a very patient and understanding individual. A smart one as well, someone who could help him with experiments and knows that they are smart, not smart like him but smart enough for his endless babbles of science.

A/N: Stanford headcanons! though I think this is much more detailed than the Stanley and shorter headcanons, I'll try my best next time! hope you like it!

[livefastdriveyoung]

This is Madness

Lewis Hamilton to Ferrari is huge. Few things;

First, poor Carlos, having to announce his own departure is brutal.

Second, if Toto really only did find out yesterday, why? Was Lewis afraid he would change his mind? Guilt? Is the W15 a disaster?

Third, Ferrari was the only other option. There was very little chance he would wind up at Redbull. Max is first driver, Christian Horner has admitted to not seeing a future with him.

Fourth, BONO?! He signed an extension contract. So the question is does he have an out clause as well? Will Lewis buy him out? Can he? Will Bono even choose Lewis?

Fifth, Team Loyalty is a big deal in modern F1, but that's the key, it's modern. F1 drivers used to change teams more frequently. We've seen it even now. Alonso has been on six teams total, with separate stints at different times for Renault and McLaren. Kimi drove for five teams. Seb drove for five teams. Checo, five, and so on. Hamilton's stint with Mercedes is unprecedented. 17 years total. Not something to scoff at, but unprecedented. It shouldn't be treated as some ultimate betrayal. He was the exception to the rule.

Sixth, I think Lewis implicitly trusts Fred Vasseur. Do I? No. Do I think that the rumors going around about poaching Red Bull staff and the fact that we don't know about Bono or Andrew could mean that Lewis's side of the garage is stacked exactly how he wants it.

Seventh, Charles is not going to be second driver, not really. Yes, you don't bring a driver like Lewis in to make him second fiddle, but I think that the hope is that Charles will learn what he's been missing, and I love Charles but there are definitely moments that demonstrated room for growth. Lewis has always talked about how much the sport has changed, and even though it is his complaints that make headlines, his positive enforcement of some of these changes is a good attitude to bring. Charles is the 'Il Predestinato' they just want to make sure that he's the best version of it they can get.

Eighth, The Mercedes garage is going to spin this season. Their PR team is going to work like never before. They're going to spin the narrative to George, they're going to isolate Lewis. He can't be in the future development meetings anymore, he's the competition. His colleagues of a decade can no longer trust him and that is sure to be lonely. They're not going to let that be the story. I think we might even be seeing some of it already. The question as to whether or not Toto knew in advance, coming out against the fact that allegedly Sainz and LeClerc have known for at least a couple weeks, is interesting and I'm intrigued at the level of truth.

Ninth, Whether you like Lewis or not, there were moments last season that the team shafted him. Prioritizing his teammate when he was in a better position, abandoning him on podium, etc. Lewis was so supportive of Susie and Toto, George didn't even bother to do anything other than repost the official statement. Lewis was Jack's hero, now all of a sudden, George is the one on vacations, and teaching him carting. The relationship has been slowly fracturing since Abu Dhabi 2021. Whether or not Lewis leaves on a good note at the end of the season will depend on if Mercedes will even give him the time of day. This could very well be Daniel Ricciardo at McLaren.

Finally, I don't think Lewis Hamilton has ever been the type to pull the rug out from someone without cause. He's always been a huge target in the F1 community and I think he's been ready for a change for a while. It's hard to make a change, especially when you're leaving something that once treated you so well. If it is true that he gave Mercedes no proper warning then hopefully he apologizes and explains. We're not entitled to know, but they are.