#skin clinic in green park

[skin-care-in]

Visit Metamorphosis to Brighten Up Your Skin at the Leading Skin Clinic in Green Park

Metamorphosis, the best skin clinic in Green Park, can help you improve your skincare routine. Their team of skilled professionals specializes in advanced skin-rejuvenating and transforming procedures. They customize their method of treatment using modern technology and personalized attention to match your specific needs, whether you're looking for solutions for acne, aging, or general skin care. 

All set to shine? Make an appointment with Metamorphosis right now to discover the full potential of your skin. 

[melocarewellness]

 Permanent Makeup Studio in Delhi | India

Exploring the Permanent Makeup Studio in Delhi to get Permanent Makeup, Anti-Aging, Laser Treatments, and More

"Delhi, the bustling heart of India, is not just the political capital but also a burgeoning hub for beauty and skincare services. With a myriad of options available, finding the perfect clinic that meets your specific needs can be overwhelming. Whether you're considering permanent makeup, anti-aging treatments, laser skin procedures, or lip fillers, choosing the right clinic is crucial for achieving desired results safely and effectively. For those interested in long-lasting beauty solutions, seeking out a Permanent Makeup Studio in Delhi can provide the expertise and quality you're looking for."

What is Permanent Makeup?

Permanent makeup, also known as micropigmentation, involves implanting pigment into the skin to enhance facial features such as eyebrows, eyelids, and lips. This technique offers a long-lasting solution to conventional makeup, saving time and effort in daily beauty routines.

Benefits of Permanent Makeup

Time-Saving: Eliminates the need for daily makeup application.

Long-Lasting: Results can last for years with minimal touch-ups.

Natural Look: Enhances natural features subtly and beautifully.

Convenience: Ideal for people with busy lifestyles or physical limitations.

Permanent Makeup Studio in Delhi

Melocare has established itself as the premier Permanent Makeup Studio in Delhi, renowned for its exceptional artistry and innovative techniques in the beauty industry. At Melocare, clients can expect a transformational beauty experience, where each treatment is tailored to meet individual preferences and facial features. The studio's team of skilled professionals is dedicated to upholding the highest standards of safety and hygiene, ensuring a comfortable and satisfying session every time. Whether you're looking to enhance your eyebrows, lips, or eyeliner, Melocare provides meticulous attention to detail to achieve flawless, long-lasting results. By choosing Melocare, you are not just enhancing your beauty; you are investing in a touch of permanence that simplifies your daily routine and boosts your confidence.

Skin Clinic in Delhi

Services Offered by Skin Clinics

Skin clinics in Delhi offer a variety of treatments, including acne treatment, skin rejuvenation, pigmentation removal, and more. These clinics employ advanced technologies and personalized care to address various skin concerns.

How to Choose the Best Skin Clinic

Credentials: Check the qualifications and experience of the dermatologists.

Reviews: Read patient reviews and testimonials.

Facilities: Ensure the clinic is equipped with the latest technology.

Consultation: Look for clinics that offer comprehensive consultations.

Anti-Aging Clinic in Delhi

Understanding Anti-Aging Treatments

Anti-aging treatments aim to reduce the signs of aging such as wrinkles, fine lines, and sagging skin. These treatments include Botox, fillers, laser therapy, and chemical peels, among others.

Benefits of Visiting an Anti-Aging Clinic

Expert Care: Treatments administered by experienced professionals.

Personalized Plans: Tailored treatments to suit individual skin needs.

Advanced Techniques: Utilization of the latest anti-aging technologies.

Laser Skin Clinic in Delhi

Types of Laser Treatments Available

Laser treatments can address various skin concerns such as acne scars, pigmentation, unwanted hair, and skin tightening. Common types include CO2 lasers, Q-switched lasers, and diode lasers.

Advantages of Laser Treatments

Precision: Target specific skin issues with high accuracy.

Minimal Downtime: Quick recovery compared to traditional surgery.

Effective Results: Visible improvement in skin texture and appearance.

Lip Fillers in Delhi

What are Lip Fillers?

Lip fillers are injectable treatments that enhance the volume and shape of the lips. Commonly used fillers include hyaluronic acid-based products like Juvederm and Restylane.

Procedure and Safety

Consultation: Initial assessment to understand desired outcomes.

Injection: Administered by a trained professional using fine needles.

Aftercare: Instructions on managing swelling and maintaining results.

Celebrity Aesthetic Clinic in Delhi

What Makes a Clinic a "Celebrity" Clinic?

Celebrity aesthetic clinics are renowned for their high-profile clientele and exceptional services. These clinics often set trends in the beauty industry with their innovative treatments and impeccable standards.

Services Offered at Celebrity Aesthetic Clinics

Exclusive Treatments: Cutting-edge procedures not widely available.

High Privacy: Ensured confidentiality for all clients.

Luxury Experience: Premium facilities and personalized care.

Melocare: Elevating Beauty Standards in Delhi

When it comes to beauty and skincare, Melocare stands out as a premier destination in Delhi. Renowned for its comprehensive range of services and state-of-the-art facilities, Melocare is committed to delivering exceptional results and personalized care. With innovative treatments, expert professionals led by Dr. Megha Nagpal, and a luxurious experience, Melocare ensures that each client receives tailored and effective solutions for their skincare needs. Choose Melocare for unparalleled excellence in aesthetic care in Delhi.

Conclusion

Delhi offers a plethora of beauty and skincare clinics catering to various needs, from permanent makeup to advanced anti-aging treatments. Choosing the right clinic involves considering factors such as the expertise of professionals, the range of services offered, and patient reviews. By doing thorough research and opting for reputable clinics, you can achieve your desired beauty and skincare goals safely and effectively.

FAQs

How safe are laser skin treatments?

Laser skin treatments are generally safe when performed by qualified professionals. Ensure the clinic uses FDA-approved lasers and follow post-treatment care instructions to minimize risks.

Can I get natural-looking results with lip fillers?

Yes, natural-looking results can be achieved with lip fillers when done by experienced practitioners who understand facial symmetry and proportion.

What should I look for in an anti-aging clinic?

Look for an anti-aging clinic with experienced dermatologists, advanced technology, positive patient reviews, and personalized treatment plans.

Are celebrity aesthetic clinics worth the hype?

Celebrity aesthetic clinics often offer top-notch services and advanced treatments. If you seek exclusive procedures and high standards of care, they can be worth the investment.

[mulloey]

treatment plan • seonghwa

seonghwa’s not your average therapist. neither are his methods.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, psychologist au, doctor x patient, unethical psychologist park seonghwa, like i can’t stress how fired he’d be if this happened irl, pretty iffy abuse of power but verbal consent (though irl that doesn’t make it ok ofc), fingering, talks of reward and punishment, part 2 may come eventually. don’t like, don’t read. i’m not responsible for your triggers and hate will be blocked.

word count: 3.1k

—————

When your old therapist had told you she would be moving to another hospital, it seemed like the end of the world, especially given that one of your main reasons for being there was your fear of abandonment. But laying eyes on her replacement for the first time has part of you wishing she’d abandoned you even sooner.

There’s no denying, the man is gorgeous — tall with dark eyes and perfect, flawless skin that you ache to feel on yours — and he seems to know it, too, by the way he sits in his chair like a throne, legs spread comfortably, back slouched. But as attractive as he is, he’s your therapist, and a good one at that; though you as the client would have less at stake than him when it comes to unprofessional relationships, your first session reveals to you that he’s actually very good, maybe even better than the woman you had before, and you get the sense he could actually help you. He’s attentive and calm and right from the start seems genuinely interested in your well-being. You feel at ease with him, and though focused and professional, he seems at ease with you too. Maybe that’s how he is with all his patients, but it hurts no one to do a bit of wishful thinking about the way he looked at you when you introduced yourself for the first time.

Even now, as he rattles on about your issues and problems and all the other reasons you’re here, he has you hanging on his every word. Maybe it’s his voice, deep but with a lightness that makes him sound perpetually amused, or the way he holds eye contact with you when he speaks. But whatever it is, you know you’re going to work very well together indeed.

“With Dr. Campbell, you mainly focused on your fear of abandonment, childhood trauma and…” he pauses, staring blankly at the thick file and you stifle a laugh because you know exactly what he’s looking at. “Well, she called it Daddy issues,” he says. “Can I assume that was your… phraseology?”

“You can,” you grin and you think you almost catch him smiling too. “I like to use simpler terms for things. Make it less clinical.”

He frowns slightly, staring up at you through his glasses before scribbling something down in his notebook. “You don’t like things clinical?”

“I don’t,” you say. “I just can’t open up properly if I feel like a patient, like I’m sick. That’s why I chose this place.” You gesture vaguely at your surroundings — wall-to-wall bookcases, dark oak tables and leather armchairs set against dark green walls. “And it’s why Dr. Campbell had me call her Mabel. If she felt more like a friend I could speak freely with her.”

He nods, writes something else then turns his gaze back to her. “In that case, maybe you should call me Seonghwa,” he says.

“Seonghwa,” you repeat. “Dr. S Park,” you say, referring to the bronze sign hammered into the door of his office.

He laughs a little and it makes you laugh, too. He looks nice when he laughs. “You can forget about that now. Just call me by my name, and I’ll call you by yours if you like.”

“Yes please,” you nod. “I hate being called Miss.”

“Yes, it’s quite sobering, isn’t it?” He says, laughing again. “Too formal. Makes you feel like a real adult.”

You shrug. “Kind of.”

“Well, not to worry, we’ll use first names in here.” He pauses, turning his head and your eyes follow his to the clock, which delivers the news that your time with him is up about as delicately as a blow to the head. You wonder how the hour you’d paid for had possibly gone by so quickly; you allow yourself to think he looks a bit disappointed, too.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he says, standing up and stretching out his hand to shake. “I believe I’ve got you booked in at the same time next week, if you’re interested in continuing this.”

“I am,” you confirm.

He smiles. “Good. Get in touch if you need anything until then and try to think about what you’d like to talk about next time.”

You whisper a thank you and he nods, smiling. “I think we’re going to make a very good team,” he says.

Oh Seonghwa, you think. We most certainly will.

——————

Surprisingly, the next week goes by in a flash; you’d expected it to drag out as you sat in waiting for the next time you’d see Seonghwa, but work has, perhaps mercifully, kept you too busy to even think about him until the day arrives. When it does, in your excitement you even endeavour to put on some light makeup and your ‘good’ pair of jeans. Trying to keep it professional, you have to whisper ‘he’s your therapist’ to yourself a few times on the drive over there, but while you’ve no intention of jeopardising your professional arrangement, you still hope he sees and notices the effort you’ve made. Maybe even likes it.

As soon as he calls your name he seems to notice your getup, pausing in his greeting to look you up and down. His eyes meet yours; questioning, curious. “Big night?” He asks, amused.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I just felt like it. I wanted to look nice.”

“Well, you do,” he smiles. You blush. “To my office, then.”

You follow him down the by-now familiar hall, watching as he unlocks the door and gestures for you to go in first. You take a seat in your respective chairs and he wastes little time on small talk before diving into your issues. The first fifteen-odd minutes pass by uneventfully before you slowly, subtly feel the conversation shift. Seonghwa almost clams up listening to your descriptions of your coping mechanisms (sex, mostly), face focused and pupils dilated as you relay all the gory details of how you like to be treated. When you’re done and blushing furiously, he stares at you for a second for leaning back.

“Well,” he says. “I have a few thoughts on that.”

“What are they?”

He shifts in his seat but doesn’t look uncomfortable. “You do these things because lack self-discipline,” he says. “Your ‘daddy issues’—” he pauses, clearing his throat and you see the ends of his ears are pinkish “— and the coping mechanisms you employ for them, have made it hard for you to keep yourself in line, so you rely on outside sources to do it for you. But you have none.”

You stare silently at him, mouth slightly agape. It’s his job, of course, and he’s been highly trained for it, but you’re still shocked at how easily he can read and understand you, can identify a problem you thought unexplainable. Maybe he sees a lot of girls like you. He’s probably told them the exact same thing, looked at them with the same dark eyes and knowing smile. You don’t know why the thought makes you so annoyed — and if you do, you’re choosing to ignore it.

“You’re right,” you say quietly, finally, and he nods. “What do I do about it?”

“It’s hard to alter thought processes and needs we’ve developed in childhood, but it can be done over time.”

“How?”

He leans forward, face stoic and there’s a tangible shift in the air. You swallow. “If your need is met during your therapy,” he starts, “it could give you the mental space to begin to reduce its presence.” He leans back against the chair, eyes on you as he gauges your reaction.

“Which need is this?” You ask quietly, both afraid of and excited for the answer.

“Discipline,” he answers shortly. “Being kept in line. Everyone needs it to function properly but by adulthood most can do this for themselves. You cannot.”

You frown, a bit embarrassed and he sees it, smiling softly before speaking again. “It’s not a bad thing, and nothing to be ashamed of, but it does need to be addressed. I would like to help you with that.”

“How?”

He says nothing, just stares at you, face blank. He wants you to realise the answer alone, and he wants you to say it.

“You?” You whisper and he smiles.

“Me,” he says. You shift uncomfortably in your chair and he watches you, unmoving.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“You don’t need to say anything else. I just wanted you to say it and acknowledge it aloud.”

You nod, still unsure of what exactly he’s talking about but you think you have a good, dizzying idea of it.

“It’s an unconventional practice,” he continues, “but you would really benefit.”

“By you… keeping me in line? Disciplining me?”

He nods, humming softly. “Exactly. At least until you’re able to do it yourself.”

“Is this ethical?” You mutter. You don’t know if you want him to hear you or not, but he does.

“It’s therapeutic,” he says quickly. He frowns and you feel the need to apologise, take back everything you’d said and all the questions you’d raised so that he’ll stop. But he’s quickly smiling again and you relax, slumping back against the chair. He regards you with amusement, almost like he’s toying at you, but at the same time he’s deadly, intimidatingly serious.

“I…” you trail off and he smiles, talking again.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in, but nothing would be beyond the boundaries we’d set together and anything we did would be strictly professional and for your benefit. This is to help you, and it will help you,” he stresses.

You feel his suggestion begin to take shape in your mind — him guiding and disciplining you, you following his lead in the exact way you’re starting to think you’ve always craved. But there’s gaps, important gaps in the image in your head and you frown.

“So you’d set rules?” You ask, blushing.

“I would call them goals,” he says. “But yes, they’re essentially rules, and I’m happy to call them that.”

You nod. “Right. And if I broke them…”

“There’d be consequences.”

You bite your lip, daring to look up at his intense gaze. “What kind of consequences?”

He smiles. “Guess.”

It hits you immediately. Fuck, you think. “Dr. Park…”

“Seonghwa, I believe,” he corrects, smiling almost smugly.

You nod, flushing slightly. “Seonghwa,” you say. “I don’t know if I, uh. I don’t know how I’d feel about being… punished, by you.”

He nods understandingly. “I know it’s frightening,” he says softly, “but you’ll be surprised by how much it helps, and how quickly. In the emails prior to our first session you stressed the urgency of your situation, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Then I strongly believe this is your best option. And nothing will happen without your consent, and understanding of why it is happening. Plus,” he pauses, staring you down again with a slight smile. You’re starting to think he likes to see you squirm. “Where there are punishments, there are also rewards.”

Your breath hitches. You’re sure your eyes are comically wide, mouth agape like an idiot but the thoughts that fill your head are making you go dumb. His expression is pleased as he leans forward, slowly closing the distance between you. “Would you like one?”

“A reward?” You ask, confused. He nods. “Have I earned one?”

“If you agree to this arrangement, you will have. It’s a big step. What do you think?”

You know you should take some time to think about it, and you’re sure he’d allow you to if you ask, but almost as soon as you start to consider it you reach your conclusion. It doesn’t take as long as you’d like it to; you have about 30 seconds of doubt before your thoughts shift to the images of Seonghwa you’d been seeing since you met; to images of him rewarding and punishing you and you know you want this. You want him to reward you — to touch and feel and pleasure you in ways you’d never dreamed of; to praise you and tell you what a good girl you are, what a good patient you are for him. You realise also that you want him to punish you just as much — maybe even more. You want to be draped over his lap, or bent over his chair or desk while those strong looking hands come down on you. You bite your lip, flustered at the image; would he make you strip to receive the punishment, so he can see and feel the blooming reds on your skin? Or would he strip you himself, slowly exposing you one centimetre at a time to prolong the tension and expectation? You feel yourself squirming at the thought and look up to him. The expression on his face tells you he knows exactly the image that’s racing through your mind.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll do it.”

He smiles widely, looking proud and, dare you say it, excited. Wordlessly he curls a finger at you and, understanding him, your legs hurry over to him almost of their own accord. You stop in front of him and he quickly pulls you down to his lap, hands on you instantly. His hands are rough but soft on your skin, and you feel the held back strength in his touches. He could easily overpower you, take you and treat you as he pleases and yet he handles you like you’re precious, something delicate. Something to be protected — and punished.

“You’re such a good girl already,” he breathes. “I knew it from the moment I saw you. It comes naturally to you.”

You smile and he taps your cheek before his gaze falls lower. Gently he starts to run his hand up your thigh until it’s almost touching your heat. He frowns, pinching the denim that separates it. “Stand up and take these off,” he says.

You nod and obey, heart already racing as you step out of your jeans. Before you can ask where to put them he grabs you again, pulling you back into his hold. “Much better,” he says.

His hand quickly finds your heat again, this time only separated from it by your thin cotton panties. “Cute,” he mutters as he runs a finger across them. You gasp at the sensation and he chuckles. “I’m going to put my finger inside you,” he says. “But not until you ask me to.”

You groan and he lands a light slap on your ass. It doesn’t hurt, certainly no more than a slight sting, but you feel and sense the restraint in the hit; the strength behind it. Strength that may soon be inflicted on you in full force. “You won’t complain about what I give you,” he says sternly. “And if you want more, you’ll ask me explicitly. So ask me.”

“Seonghwa, please,” you whisper.

“Hm?” He whispers, cocking an eyebrow. “Please what?”

You want to cry, embarrassed and pent up and desperate for him but you want to be good and make him proud the first time you do this. And you will make him proud. “Put your finger in me,” you whimper. “Please, Seonghwa.”

He shushes you, stroking your head with an awestruck look in his eyes. “Good girl,” he says. “God, you adapt quickly, don’t you?”

“I guess,” you whisper.

“Good,” he says. “That will come very handy. Are you ready for my finger?”

You nod, pushing your hips out towards him silently and he chuckles, slapping your thigh a little harder than last time. “Patience,” he says.

With the hand wrapped around your waist grabs your panties, pulling them to the side so the other hand can press a long, thick finger inside. You gasp, rutting against his hand slightly and he hums. “This is tight,” he notes. “Very tight. And pretty.”

You blush, squirming and he lifts his gaze from where it was focused on your pussy to look at you sternly, brows furrowed. “I didn’t tell you to move, did I?”

You shake your head and he sighs. “No discipline at all,” he says, tutting you slightly. “I’ll keep going because this is your first reward. But from now on, if you fail to control yourself when I’m rewarding you, you’ll be punished instead, alright?”

You nod apologetically. You bow your head, eyes on the ground in shame and he presses his finger under your chin, lifting your head to look at him. The sternness is almost gone now, replaced with a pent-up kind of tenderness. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers. “Never be embarrassed around me, okay? It’s natural to slip up when you’re still learning. If you didn’t I’d have nothing to teach you, would I?”

You nod, guessing he’s right. He smiles, cupping your cheek with one hand before the finger you’d almost forgotten was inside you starts to move. You try to stay still, biting your lip to not make any noise that makes him think you’re losing control. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut but he doesn’t like that either. “Open,” he says and you do. He doesn’t meet your gaze; his eyes are back on your pussy, on the sopping wet hole that’s practically leaking from just one finger. But if he finds it weird or embarrassing, he says nothing.

“Are you ready for the second one?” He asks.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He smiles and slowly pushes in his middle finger. The tightness of your pussy clamps both fingers against each other but he quickly works you open with expert efficiency until he can fit in a third. “I’m going to rub your clit now,” he tells you and you nod meekly.

The sensations come together like fireworks exploding in your stomach and your whines and whimpers quickly turn to louder and more desperate moans. With his other hand he pulls you to lay your head on his chest and you feel his heart racing as you get closer and closer to the limit.

“Are you able to cum?” He asks.

You nod, whining against his shirt and surely covering in drool but he doesn’t care. He keeps going, faster and harder until with one command — “cum for me.” — he has you letting go completely. You sob, shaking and crying in his hold as you finish. He strokes your head, whispering to you while it happens until you’re done. He lets you stay in his hold for a while, whispering words you don’t understand until you finally start to come back to earth. You look up at his face, worried and awe-struck. He smiles, relieved to see you back and fully present again.

“How was that?” He asks.

“So good,” you whisper. “I think— this is going to be really helpful for me.”

He chuckles, rocking you back and forth and running his hand up and down your back.

“I’m certain it will.”

—————

um yeah sorry about this… this is obviously not professional and an irl therapist would lose every license they ever had if this happened. but in fiction, it’s pretty cool lol. reblog and comment if you enjoyed or if you’d like to see more of this arrangement (i.e. if you’re horny enough that you wanna see urself get punished…) all requests are being worked on rn but they are still OPEN!! love🖤🖤🖤

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 26

Masterlist

The fading sun casts a warm glow over the dashboard as I turn onto the familiar street leading to my building. Exhaustion is clawing at my bones after a long day at the clinic, and all I crave is the comfort of home and Chris' arms. A yawn escapes me, my eyes briefly closing before snapping back open, just in time to catch sight of him.

Chris stands there, his muscular frame relaxed, but his attention is completely absorbed by the woman in front of him. Even from a distance, her beauty is arresting—a cascade of black waves tumbles down past her shoulders, a stark contrast to her olive skin which seemed to drink in the last rays of sunlight, and curves for days. Her green eyes sparkled, seemingly full of mischief, as she leaned into his space, her hand placed lightly on his chest as her fingers trace one of his buttons, a gesture that feels too intimate for casual friends.

A knot tightens in my stomach, an instinctual tug of concern, but I push it away. It's nothing, I tell myself, as I head up to the garage and park the car with more force than necessary. Maybe she's a neighbor or a friend. I couldn't let a seed of doubt take root; trust was the foundation we’d built our relationship on.

After dropping my stuff off at my place, then showering and changing, I head to Chris’.

"Hey, love," Chris greets me when I finally step out of the elevator into his penthouse. He pulls me into a warm hug.

"Hi," I murmur against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent. He feels like home—steady and sure. It has been about two weeks since we’d found our way back to each other and things were good. Chris has been more open with me about the other side of the business and now shares when has to lean into his dark side so that I’m not caught off guard or so that I can help pull him back, bring him balance. And I share with him when I’m uncomfortable or scared. We make it a priority to work out our feelings together. We have been very in sync with each other, feeling very much like the early days of our relationship.

We settle onto the couch, the soft fabric embracing us as we curl up together. The TV plays some show I didn't care about, background noise to our quiet conversation.

"How was work?" I ask, tracing idle patterns on his arm.

"Good, good. Had a meeting run way too long, but otherwise, not too bad," he replies, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“And any movement on that other situation?” I ask, inquiring about how they’re handling the potential threat from Marco.

“Not really. We’re ready to move on our end, but JYP has asked us to hold off until we have ‘real’ evidence.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "And you? How was your day?"

"Same old, same old," I sigh, recounting a story about a particularly feisty cat that had given me a run for my money. Chris chuckles, his chest rumbling against my cheek.

As the night wore on, and his voice fills the spaces around us, I wait for him to mention the woman from earlier. But the topic never surfaces. Should I ask? I question myself. No, I can’t be that person. If it were important, he'd tell me.

"Everything okay?" Chris' voice pulls me back, his gaze searching mine.

"Perfect," I lie with a smile, burrowing deeper into his embrace. Trust him, I chide myself silently. Don't ruin this because of some lingering insecurity from you-know-who. Your last boyfriend had scarred you with his infidelities, but you didn’t want that situation to color your interactions with Chris.

"Good," he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. "I'm glad you're here."

The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the tender look in his eyes—it all lulls the creeping worry back into the shadows.

—

The clatter of cutlery and the murmur of lunchtime conversations envelop me as I take a seat at our usual corner booth, with Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin already deep into their meal. Felix has been inviting me to have lunch with them at least once a week for several weeks now. It’s usually just me, him, and Hyunjin. Felix, the sweetheart that he is, has already ordered my usual for me. 

The aroma of spicy ramen and tangy kimchi fills my senses, but it is their hushed tones that snag my attention. I try to focus on unfolding my napkin, but their words buzz like bees around my head.

"Can't believe Aja's back in town," Felix mutters, his brows knitted tightly under his blond bangs. "She's trouble."

"Always has been," Hyunjin adds, spooning broth into his mouth. "She’s been on the east coast for years, and suddenly she pops up out of the blue? It’s suspicious. Of course she beelined directly for Channie her first day in town, no surprise there."

My hand freezes mid-fold, my heart hammering against my ribcage. The woman from the other day—is Aja? Chris’ ex?

"What does she look like?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

"Curvy Latina, jet black hair, green eyes that probably have seen more dollar signs than stars," Changbin replies sarcastically without looking up, his chopsticks expertly navigating through his noodles.

A lump forms in my throat. That was her—the one who'd lingered too close to Chris.

"Her dad was a big-shot lieutenant in the Syndicate," Felix says, shaking his head. "That’s how she and Chan got connected. Once she had her hooks in him, it was over. Chan always bent over backward for her."

"Despite her treating him like dirt," Hyunjin scoffs. "He catered to her every whim, and she still stomped all over his heart. Bitch."

"Wait, she treated Chris badly?" My voice wavers despite my best efforts.

"Like he was nothing and he just took it because he was in love," Changbin confirms, his dark eyes meeting mine for a moment. This is the closest Changbin and I have been since Chris and I reconnected. We still talk and text almost everyday, like usual, but we haven’t been alone together. He wouldn’t admit it, but Binnie has been avoiding me. "We never liked her, Kay. You're a breath of fresh air compared to Aja."

"Definitely," Felix agrees with a nod. "You're good for him. She...she was like a devil whispering in his ear, pushing him deeper towards the dark side."

"Which is why we can't let her worm her way back in," Hyunjin states firmly.

The weight of their concern presses down on me, mixing with the sour twist of unease in my stomach. Chris had said nothing about Aja, nothing about seeing her again. And yet here I sit, surrounded by his most trusted confidants, learning of a past that suddenly felt all too present.

“Does anyone know why she’s back?” I ask, curious to learn more.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Hyunjin says as he leans back in his chair. “As long as she leaves Chan the fuck out of it. I’ll kill her myself if she gets out of line.”

“Yo, dial that back a notch Jinnie,” Changbin said with a laugh. “We get it; you hate her!”

“I wouldn’t worry about her, Kay,” Felix says. “She’s probably just here to visit family.”

“Or to get more money out of them,” Changbin adds with a smirk. “Either way, she probably won’t be here long.”

"Thanks, guys," I manage, my smile strained.

Changbin reaches out, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before quickly withdrawing. Also the first time he’s touched me since that night in the clinic.

"Anything for you, Kay," he said, his voice low and earnest. "We've got your back."

—

The silence in Chris' penthouse later that evening is deafening, the usual hum of our shared laughter and conversation conspicuously absent. I watch him from across the room, his eyes glued to his phone screen, thumbs tapping out a response with an urgency I haven't seen in a while.

"Work stuff?" I venture, trying to keep my tone light, though the knot in my stomach pulls tighter with each passing second.

"Uh, yeah," he replies without looking up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a strained smile.

I nod, feigning interest in the TV show playing in the background, while the acidic taste of doubt lingered on my tongue.

A few moments later he joins me on the couch. He gives me a gentle kiss on the lips before laying his head in my lap. I run my hand through his hair, as he grabs my other hand and brings it to his chest.

“Everything okay with you?” he asks as he looks up at me.

“Yeah. All good here.” I lean over to kiss him. I want to ask him about Aja, but am worried about sounding like a jealous girlfriend. Despite the few issues Chris and I have had in our relationship, worrying about other people was never one. I’m not sure why I’m so concerned about Aja, given that Chris has never done anything to show that he had interest in other women. Yet, knowing she’s around and in contact with him is putting me on edge, especially given what I learned at lunch.

“You sure?” he asks with concern. “Your energy seems…off. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He reaches a hand up to my face and caresses my cheek.

“I know.” I lean into his hand. “I’m good. I promise,” I whisper.

“Ok.” He settles back into my lap, wrapping my arm around him and turning to face the TV. We watch the show in silence. As a new episode starts up, his phone beeps. He sits up to grab it off the coffee table and sits back on the couch to read and respond.

"Goodnight," I murmur, retreating to his bedroom, feeling very uneasy.

“I’ll be in soon,” he calls out behind me.

I crawl under the covers and curl up into a ball, closing my eyes. After a few minutes, I feel Chris snuggle up behind me. As he places soft kisses along my shoulder, I feel his hands wrap around my body.

Chris' lips linger on my skin, but my thoughts are a whirlwind of questions and suspicions. Why hasn't he mentioned her return? I can’t escape the feeling that something is amiss.

A soft sigh escapes me as Chris pulls me closer, his touch soothing. “Still awake?” he whispers in my ear as he slips his hand down my stomach and beneath the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I nod. “Mmmm, good. Come here.”

I turn my body to face him and he captures my lips, easing his tongue into my mouth. I don’t resist him. I can’t. He shifts my shorts and underwear down my legs and tosses them aside. He’s already naked.

He pulls me in closer to him, pressing my body against his. He lifts my top leg and places it over his hip. Then he positions his dick at my entrance, before sliding himself in gently. A slow rhythm starts between us - hard and fast at first then slowing down to match each other's pace. It feels good to be one with him like this; lying side by side, our noses and foreheads touching, our bodies moving slowly together in unison.

My body responds instinctively, arching into his touch. I try to push my doubts and worries away, focusing on the pleasure he's giving me. But the image of Aja keeps creeping back into my mind, taunting me.

He whispers against my lips, “Let me make you forget about whatever it is you keep thinking about.” He picks up the pace of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots with precision. The tension in my body slowly ebbs away as Chris’ thrusts match his words, bringing me back to the present. Soon enough, all thoughts about Aja fade away and I am consumed by overwhelming pleasure.

Our bodies move together in perfect harmony, skin sliding against skin, breath coming out in quick gasps. I moan softly as Chris' strong hands grip my ass, guiding my hips to meet his thrusts with just the right amount of force. His other hand trails up my spine, landing at the base of my neck. His fingers play with my hair as he buries himself deeper inside me.

“Tell me you love me,” I demand, my hand on his cheek. He pulls back slightly to look into my eyes. He’s usually the one demanding reassurances, not me, so it catches him off guard.

“I love you. Only you, Kay.” I bring my lips to his, kissing him hungrily as I claim him as mine. I already know that he loves me, but hearing him say it in this moment helps to push aside the doubts I’m having.

Chris rolls me onto my back so that he is now on top. He increases the speed of his thrusts, but his lips never leave mine. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in even closer to me.

The intensity between us grows with each passing moment, until we are both lost in each other’s touch. With one last deep thrust, Chris cums inside of me, his rhythmic movements faltering as he rides out his orgasm. I follow closely behind, my body trembling beneath him.

We lay there for a few moments, catching our breaths. Eventually, Chris rolls off of me and pulls me into his chest; our usual after sex position. We lay there silently for a while, just enjoying each other’s company.

Chris finally breaks the silence. “I’m here when you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong.” He kisses my forehead before pulling me into him even tighter. I don’t respond. We stay wrapped up in each other until we both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[gojosoath]

the world underneath your skin — toji fic

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader (uses she/her pronouns)

tags: romance x ANGST x like a SHIT TON OF ANGST x AU (no sorcerer stuff in this au) x action x smut x sub!toji x handjob! x light bondage w/cuffs x whiny!toji

warnings: alcoholism x self harm (Y/N self harms, i do NOT mean this in any way implying that the reader (you) do this. and that if you have struggled/or are struggling with self harm, this is a major trigger warning. as someone who personally has struggled with self harm, i know how sensitive the topic is) x death (only characters' death from manga is toji's wife and megumi)

summary: After spending most of his life as an underground hitman for desperate means to support himself financially — Toji Fushiguro gets recruited to work as an assassin for the government due to his his mastered skills. Through his new occupation, Toji struggles with muscle pains and is recommended to see a massage therapist. Toji meets Y/N, who becomes Toji’s massage therapist, and the two realize they both have toxic addictions they hide from daylight; Toji’s alcoholism and Y/N’s self-harm. Along the way, Toji and Y/N can’t seem to stay away from each other despite the darkness that threatens to keep them apart. 

Table of Contents // my ao3 // taglist form

taglist: @sakinotfound ;@nanamingojo; @bubs-world ; @saskamo

a/n: sorry for how long it's taken me to update. i have a thing for seeing strong men on their knees, whimpering and begging. can't help it.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: alcohol usage

Part 6: Bad Boy (wc: 5.2k)

Your ass is sore and red from the punishment you received from Toji. Whenever you were getting dressed or going into the shower, you’d turn around to view the pink hand imprints on the fat of your ass. Your cheeks would match the color of your ass at the remembrance of being splayed over Toji’s lap as his large, calloused hands spanking you. You got into the habit of before work masturbating to the memories of Toji being ball deep inside you. It couldn’t be helped, this man had you wet at just the thought of him; his black, raven hair, green eyes, the scars on his body…

Work went as per usual; multiple appointments, and chatting with your patients as you massaged their bodies. You couldn’t help but wish it was your scheduled day with Toji but that would come at the end of the week. Once you were done with all your appointments, you closed up your clinic.

As you were locking the front door of the clinic, the sound of tires on the gravel made you freeze up. The lights of a car reflected in the glass door of the building, making you blind for a split second. You turned around, your hand still holding the keys in the lock. You swallowed thickly, heart hammering against your ribcage. Who could it be this late at night? Especially after closing time.  The car door opened, and someone stumbled out. You still couldn’t make the figure out as the car headlights were too bright. Your breathing had become shallow, your body tense and in the mode to run away if you needed to. The car backed up and drove out of the parking light. The dark figure that had stumbled out rose to their legs and walked towards you. Midway, they fell to the ground, and once on the floor you caught their face in the dim light; Toji. You rushed over to him, hands placed on his shoulders. Your nostrils burned from the heavy smell of alcohol on him. He wore a white button-up that was undone halfway, his muscled chest exposed.  “Toji,” You breathed out, “are you okay?”  “Sorry…” He slurred, looking up to meet your gaze. His eyes were glossed over, there was light stubble that had grown on his face. He gave you a lop-sided smirk, his knuckles coming up to your cheek, “Hey doll, I missed ya…”  “You’re drunk,” You stated the obvious, helping him get up — but this was hard considering how much bigger he was than you. You two stumbled in the process, but you managed to get your arm around his waist. He leaned against you, causing you to set your hand on his chest so he didn’t completely fall over you which would result in taking you down with him. Your hand on his bare chest prompted that fluttering sensation to attack your insides. You could feel the imprint from one of his scars splayed across his chest. 

“We’re going to walk to my car, okay?” You advised, cautiously taking a step forward to see how he would react. Thankfully, he managed to follow your steps. When you two got to your car, you opened the passenger door and helped him get into the seat. The weight of his head made him lean to one side, having to push him back in, “No, no,” You alerted, “please don’t fall,” you prayed out loud. In the process of trying to buckle him up, you knocked him on the side of the head with your elbow. You rubbed where you had hit him, apologizing. 

Toji responded with incoherent mumblings. You finished buckling him in, it felt strange to be handling a grown man like a baby. In no time, you were in the car and driving to your apartment. It was then that the realization struck you; where were you even taking Toji? In the state he was in, there was no way he’d be able to instruct you to where he lived. You heaved out a sigh and decided the best thing would be to take him back to your place. 

The same process happened while trying to get Toji up to your place; stumbling, incoherent mumbles from him, holding onto him to your best so he wouldn’t fall over. When you finally got him into your place, you set him on your couch. Your cat, Willow, made her way to where Toji was placed.

“Don’t worry, he’s nice,” You said to Willow, “what do you think of him?” 

Willow sniffed the top of Toji’s head and then proceeded to jump off the couch. You took off your coat and set aside your purse with your keys. You made sure to also take out his phone and keys out of his pocket, setting them onto the coffee table. You were back by Toji’s side with a glass of cold water in your hands. He was wasted, but you hoped you’d be able to somewhat sober him up. 

You helped him sit back up by pulling at the sleeve of his button up. The glass was brought to his lips, “Come on, let’s drink,” You tried to encourage even though you knew he wasn’t comprehending anything you were saying to him. You cradled the back of his head with your palm when tipping the glass upwards. Toji didn’t reciprocate your act of assistance, the water spilling down his chin and neck. His eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed more shallow. Panic struck you, setting the glass onto the coffee table and putting your ear to his lips. He was still breathing. But he didn’t seem okay. How much had he drunk? 

You got up to go to your bathroom, turning on the shower to cold water. And then you went back to get Toji on his feet and over to the shower. When it came to getting him into the bathtub, it resulted in both of you tumbling in — the cold water of the shower immersing the two of you. You felt Toji’s body jolt against you, which made you relieved. You sat up and patted your hands against Toji’s cheeks.

“Hey, it’s me,” You said through chattering teeth, “come on, love, look at me.” 

Toji trembled under the water, making you reach back and turn it off. His white shirt soaked through, his defined abs showing through the material as it stuck to his skin. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his black hair. Finally, Toji opened his eyes and the first thing he said to you was; 

“It’s fucking freezing, doll.” 

You let out a breathless laugh of relief, “Let me get you a towel, be right back,” You got out of the bathtub, soaking as well. You came back with a towel and wrapped it around him. You helped him get out of the bathtub, but this time, he wasn’t stumbling like before. You took him to your room, having him sit at the edge of your bed. You knelt before him, rubbing the towel over his head. Toji’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, making you stop; looking at you with great intensity. 

“You worried me,” You thought out loud, “I was scared.”

Toji shivered, you noticed Adam’s apple go up as he swallowed before speaking, “No one’s ever taken care of me this well.”

His words plucked your strings, it rang inside of you, like music. You stood up, going over to your closet to try and find him some clothes. “How much did you drink today?” You looked through the racks of your clothes, knowing damn well you had nothing in there that would fit him. Your hands were shaking from how cold you were yourself (and also because of Toji). 

“A couple of glasses,” Toji responded nonchalantly. You scoffed, pulling out a sweatshirt that used to belong to a guy you used to hook up with, “That’s bullshit.” You turned back around, Toji was unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and taking it off. You averted your gaze back to the sweatshirt you held in your hands, clearing your throat, “You know that our appointment isn’t for another few days, right?”

Toji rubbed the towel against his hair and let it drop into his lap, “What can I say? It’s becoming hard to be patient.”

His words always had a way of making you flutter. You said in a quiet voice, “You scared me, Toji,” You could feel tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. 

“You saved me,” Toji returned. You turned back around to face him and sure enough, he was smiling. He added with more playfulness, “I’m at your service, Miss L/N.” 

You threw the sweatshirt at him and he caught it in time with his hands, “Take off your clothes.”

“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow, “Impatient, as always.”

You grabbed your laundry basket, “No, I need to wash your clothes,” You stuck the laundry basket out for him and he chuckled deeply. He put his white long sleeve in the basket, followed by his black pants which took struggling attempts to get them off. 

“Keep the underwear on,” You told him before his hands could move to the waistband of his boxers. 

He kept his tease on, “Why? You won’t be able to resist?” 

You huffed, “Toji, shut up.” 

“Ooh,” Toji pretended to be hurt by your words and put the sweatshirt on. It fit him perfectly. You walked out of your room and put his clothes into the washer, your cheeks burning up from him taking his clothes off moments ago. You were determined to not show him that he’s got you flustered, though. When you came back into the room, Toji remained seated at the edge of your bed. You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest. 

Toji extended his arm out with the towel in his hand, “Let me dry you.”

“Why?” 

“Because you’re wet,” Toji answers, “and also, because I’m at your service. After all, you saved me.”

You walked towards him, “I get to decide how you’ll be of service to me,” you sat beside him on the bed and Toji threw the towel over you, rubbing your hair. 

Toji says, “Your clothes are wet, you should change as well.”

You state with sharpness in your tone, “I don’t want to.” 

Toji takes the towel off of you, his fingers coming up to your face where he tucks damp strands of your hair behind your ear. “Why not, kitten?”

You feel tears burning your eyes again, “Because you worried me! You show up at my clinic completely wasted as I’m closing up. Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

Toji sighs, “I wanted to see you.”

You shake your head, pushing his hand away, “Don’t give me that,” You snapped at him, “tell me what happened.”

“I had a little too much to drink,” He remarks. At his mention of drinking too much, it’s then when you notice a fresh hickey on the side of his neck. You don’t know how you didn’t notice it earlier. Toji is aware of your observation and before he can open his mouth to say something, you beat him to it.

“Is it related to work?” 

Toji is silent, you can’t read the expression on his face. His hand finds your face, cupping your cheek, “I did work today, yes.” 

You want answers — no, you’re desperate for answers. You knew that what you and Toji had between the two of you was physical pleasure. But why did it feel like you needed to know details about him? 

“Tell me,” You say. 

Again, Toji sighs, “You don’t want to know anything about me.” 

You persist, “Why not?”

Toji comes back with, “Because I’m a boring, old man.” 

This time, you wrap your fingers around his wrist and claim sternly, “If you don’t tell me truthfully, I’ll have to punish you.” Toji’s green eyes slightly widen at your gallantness — you had caught him completely off guard. His voice is low, “Punish me?” 

In a heartbeat, you respond with, “Yes.” 

Toji runs his thumb over your bottom lips, “Why is that?” His eyes flicker down to them. 

“Because you’ve been a bad boy,” You allure, adding, “a very bad boy.” 

Toji cocks his head to the side, amused, “How will you punish me?” 

In a whisper, you say, “If you don’t answer me honestly, then you’ll find out.”

Toji is smug as he professes, “I’m intrigued, I’ve never been punished before.” 

You bring his hand down away from your face, standing up, Toji’s gaze following your every move. “When I’m done with you, you’re going to tell me what happened. Understand?” You grab his chin, tilting his face up towards you with your lips a breath away from his. You can feel the way his breathing has changed, pupils dilated as they look into yours. His breath fans against your lips, as desperately as you want to devour him, you can’t. Not yet. 

“You’ll have to punish me very hard, then,” Toji whispers. 

You let go of his chin and walk back over to your closet, “Lay on the bed for me,” You order, kneeling to look for what you had in mind. You find the handcuffs alongside a ribbon and turn back around, where Toji had obeyed your orders by laying on the bed. You go back over to the bed, get on it, and crawl over to him. You straddle over his lap with your legs on either side of his hips. You can feel how hard he already is underneath you but you don’t acknowledge it. 

“Oh, you’re kinky, aren’t ya?” Toji comments as you take his hand, clasping the handcuff around on one wrist and then the other. You finish it off by binding the handcuffs to the headboard of your bed with the ribbon. You look down at the man that lays beneath you; this man that radiated confidence and strength was now at your mercy — and you loved it. 

“This is how you will be at my service,” You tell him, cupping the side of his face, “but you talk too much for my liking.” Your other hand goes to your pants which are still wet and slip them down, throwing them to the side once they’re off. You follow it by taking your panties off, too and proceed to shove them into Toji’s mouth. 

Your thumb traces small circles on his cheek, “Aww,” You coo at him, “much better.” 

Toji tries to speak, but his voice is muffled with your panties stuffed in his mouth. He looks at you with hooded eyelids, his chest going up and down. You place your pointer finger by the corner of his eyes and run it alongside his face, “You look so cute like this, you know that?” 

You notice the tone on Toji’s face, a light blush of pink adorning his tan skin. You lean back, cocking your head and humming in thought, “Wonder how I should punish you…” your fingers move to his neck, wrapping around it, his eyes widening. You lightly grasp the sides of his neck, his eyelids fluttering close at the sensation. 

“Oh my,” You delight at him, “you’re so sensitive when you’re like this.” He responds by opening his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he breathes heavily through them. You lean into him, your lips ghosting where his pulse flutters crazily. “If you had just been honest with me,” You purr into him, “you wouldn’t be tied up like this.” You lean back, smiling at him and letting go of his neck. You press more weight off your crotch against his hard dick underneath you. At the sensation, Toji lets out a groan that shifts into a whimper when you begin to rub your crotch against it. 

“Don’t even think for a second I’m going to let you cum,” You assert grimly, “bad boys like you need to be taught a very good lesson.” 

You have no idea how you even had this in you. In all your sexual experiences, it was always you on the receiving end of being dominated. You had never dominated any one of your sexual partners. And the fact that you were doing it with the man who had your wrists tied up last week is beyond your comprehension. Your hands go to the hem of his sweatshirt and you push it up, exposing his defined abdomen. 

Your hands splayed across his torso, looking at him through your lashes, “I don’t just want to punish you — I want you to fucking cry, Fushiguro.” 

You feel Toji shiver at your words — he whines. It makes you want to drool but you know you have to keep up your persona for this to work. His jaw clenches at biting down your panties that fill up his mouth. You move back, your hands now on his boxers. His hard dick forms a tent against the fabric, your palm his erection which causes his hips to lurch upwards. 

You lightly slap his thigh, and he brings them back down. You look back at him, he looks at you helplessly. It drives you crazy, how exposed and vulnerable he appears. You recite his words, “Let’s see how wet you are,” You pull down his boxers, his hard dick springing up and falling against his lower abdomen. Just as you expected, the head of his dick is dripping with precum. You pull down his boxers all the way and put them to the side. 

“Disgusting,” You spit out, “an old man like you getting hard over a young woman like me?” Your hand goes to his heavy balls, his hair dark and curly — which is undeniably cute. “You’re such a pervert, Fushiguro,” You cup his balls, resulting in Toji throwing his head back against your pillow, moaning. “If you’re this sensitive already, I think you might just cum if I put your dick inside my pussy.” 

Toji’s cheek is pressed to his shoulder, practically heaving through his nostrils. You then grab his dick in your hands, earning another moan from him. You lean down, grabbing your hair and moving it to one side of your shoulder. You look up at him, locking gazes with him, and give him a single lick with your tongue to his hard, dripping head. 

Toji’s bottom lip quivers, his wrists pulling at the handcuffs but he has nowhere to go. He is restrained to the bed, right where you want him. It makes you laugh, “I never knew a man like you could enjoy something like this.” Another kitten lick to the head of his dick, “I’m still not convinced that you should cum, though.” You let go of his dick, dropping back to his lower abdomen. You sit up, arms crossed over your chest, “Convince me,” You tell him, “why should I let you cum?”

Toji’s voice is muffled, and you crawl over him until your face is above his. “Let me help with that,” You take your panties out from his mouth,  there’s drool at the corners of his lips.

“Let me cum,” He breathes out, “please.”

You shake your head, “That’s it? Not very convincing, old man.”

His green eyes are clouded with lust and overstimulation, “Please,” He tries again, “give it to me. Whatever it is, I can take it,” he rambles in a gravel voice, “please, doll. Whatever you do, as long as you make me cum, I’ll be happy.” 

You taunt him, “But why do you deserve to cum? After being such a bad boy tonight?” Toji huffs in annoyance, and you grab his face with your hand, fingers pinching his cheeks. In a leveled tone, you say, “I haven’t even punished you yet and you’re already this impatient?” 

Toji swallowed thickly, you let go of his cheeks, “I deserve it because I’ll be a good boy for you,” He deciphers, his tone desperate, “I’ve never had anyone do this to me. I want you to punish me. Do it. Punish me until I’m crying and then give it to me. I deserve it because I’m the only one that will make you cum the hardest in all your life. Fuck every man you’ve slept with, I’ll fuck your brains out for the rest of your life. I promise.” 

You’re melting on the inside, you want to crash into him, kiss him on the mouth and shove his dick inside you. But you can’t. Not until he’s crying. So you shove the panties back into his mouth, making him gag at your harshness. You give his cheek a peck before shimmying back down to his waist. You grab his dick and run your finger from the bottom to the top, where you press the flat of your thumb against his leaking, hot slit. This makes Toji’s eyes cross, there’s sweat building up at his temples. And you do this a couple of times, applying pressure to the head of his dick and then lifting your thumb from it. It has him panting through his nose, his dick becoming a darker shade of red. 

You give his dick a little slap with your hand, and he whimpers, “Count, Toji,” You command, “if you lose count, we’ll have to start over.”

Toji muffles against your panties, “One…”

“Good boy,” You tell him, “you worried me so much tonight,” You’re lightly fondling his balls, only giving him teasing light squeezes. You give the tip of his dick another light slap. His thigh muscles tense up.

“Two!” Toji moans. 

“Showing up drunk like that,” You shake your head, “did you think there wouldn’t be consequences to your actions?” 

Slap!

“Three!” 

“It’s a shame no one has ever punished you,” You run your finger down his dick, his body shuddering. You notice for the first time a throbbing vein that runs down his shaft. It’s so pretty. His body feels so hot underneath your touch, “Because they’ve never been able to see just how beautiful a strong man looks when they’re tied up.” 

Slap!

“Four…” 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your fingers wrap around his hard length and drag your hand at an astonishingly slow pace. 

Toji cries against the gag, even though it’s incoherent, you can tell he’s not keeping count of anything. You stop your movements, causing Toji to lift his head, his chest heaving up and down frantically. 

“What is it?” You jibe with an innocent smile, “What’s wrong, baby?” Toji’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you press your thumb back on his wet tip, “We’re only at four slaps and you look like you’ve had enough. Remember when I took six spanks from you?” When you don’t get a response that satisfies you, you give his dick another slap. Toji doesn’t keep count, he is groaning. 

“Oh?” You let his dick fall back onto his lower stomach, “You poor, poor baby,” You make your way back over to being on top of him. When you’re closer to him, it’s then when you notice his eyes glossed over with tears, salvia on his chin. You take the panties out, he pants against your lips. 

“Make me cum!” He mewls, “Please, doll. Make daddy cum.” You never thought you’d hear him in such a despairing state. It almost made you dizzy. Now you understood the high people got from being dominant. 

“No, I’m daddy here,” You remark with a smirk, “and besides, you lost count.”

You hear your bed frame creak as Toji fights against the cuffs, “Please,” His deep voice cracks, “I want it, mommy. Please, please!” 

You are about to push him further but it’s then that Toji completely breaks down. You smile wider at him calling you ‘mommy.’ His green eyes are completely glossed over. Your thumb wipes at one of his tears falling down the side of his temple, “There we go,” You whisper, “there’s so pretty tears.” You reach between the space of your bodies and wrap your fingers around his dick. You stroke him, sending Toji’s eyes to go cross-eyed. 

“Fuuuck!” He drawls out, “Fuck, doll…” 

“Mmh,” You press your lips right below his jaw. It’s the opposite side of his fresh hickey. You move your kisses down until it's at his neck and suction your lips around the skin as you pump him harder and faster. 

Toji curses between moans, “Yes, mommy,” He whines, “yes, yes! Just like that!” 

His dick feels hot in your hand, you can tell he’s close. You keep sucking at the skin of his neck while your pace fastens. Toji’s hips buckle forward and his body is trembling, letting out a deep groan as you feel his warm cum paint your hand. 

Toji’s eyes clenched shut at the pure bliss running through him, “Fuck, fuck,” He exhales, “feel so good, kitten.” 

You pull back and look down at him, his eyebrows are furrowed as he finishes cumming. “Such a slut,” You patronize him, “you know that?”

Toji gasps when your hand keeps stroking him after finishing. You let go, his dick beginning to soften up. Toji pleads in a whisper, “Kiss me, please.”

Before you do, you say, “Only because you said ‘please,’” and you press your lips against his. Your tongues overlap, swirling. Saliva builds up at the corner of your mouth as well. Your hands move to his head, fingers lacing in between his hair strands. He tastes slightly like alcohol, even a little bit like cigarettes. But you love it. You can smell him, his sweat, his arousal. He’s at the grace of your fingertips, quite literally. You want to break him again, again and again. And then you want to put him together, again, again, and again. You don’t know why but you just do. You find your hips grinding against his upper torso, the friction giving you pleasure against your clit. 

You snap out of it when you remember why you even brought him to a breaking point, pulling back. Toji gives you a yearning look from the space between you two. “Now tell me the truth,” You say, breathless, “what happened earlier tonight at work that made you drunk.” You wrap your fingers around his neck again, lightly squeezing, “I punished you, now you answer truthfully.”

Toji answers in a breathy tone, “I escorted someone.” 

You apply pressure to his neck, and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes, “Did something happen?” 

He clenches his jaw, “We had sex if that’s what you mean—”

You cut him off, “You know that’s not what I mean,” You warn, “answer me, honestly, Toji.” 

His eyes flicker to the side and then back over to you, “I drank before the appointment.” 

“Why?” 

He closes his eyes, slightly shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. “It helps with getting through the appointment.” 

This time, your tone is softer, “Why?” 

Toji is silent for a moment, and instead says, “Why do you want to know?”

“Because you interrupted my night by being the little slut you are,” You note sharply. 

Your comment makes him smirk, breathing out a laugh, “I can’t help it. Might just do it again if it means getting punished like this—”

You interrupt him again, but this time by shoving two of your fingers into his mouth. His eyes widen, and he chokes on your fingers. You pull them back out as if they weren’t even in his mouth, to begin with. 

Through clenched teeth, you say, “Answer. The. Question.” 

Toji coughs, his eyes scanning your face, “I don’t want to remember,” He discloses, his voice strained. “I don’t want to remember any of it. That’s why.”

Your hand lets go of his neck, feeling that knot in your stomach tighten. His words feel like a knife to your skin. Resonating too deeply with you that it makes you want to break open and sob. And you do. Your shoulders are shaking, your cheeks are wet, and tears fall onto Toji’s face. You're heaving, choking on your cries that feel like they’re going to break your bones. 

A look of deep concern is displayed on Toji’s expression, not sure how to even respond. He’s still handcuffed to your headboard and all he can do is look at you. He says, “Miss L/N, it’s okay.” 

You sniffle, bringing the back of your hand across your eyes. Still crying, you uncuff Toji, his wrists falling. He prompts himself onto his elbows, with you still in your lap. You catch Toji off guard for the hundredth time tonight, as you engulf him in a hug. His face is in your neck, it’s then when he realizes his wrists are sore from the strain of the handcuffs. Toji is frozen for a moment, not sure what to do or react. You’ve calmed down, and Toji hugs you back, giving your neck a chaste kiss. 

Your guys’ hug is interrupted by a phone ringing. The two of you turn to look and see that it’s Toji’s phone ringing forming the living room. You get off his lap and Toji grabs his phone from the coffee table. You’re waiting by the living room entrance, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’ve gotta take this,” Toji grumbles, and steps outside of the room and into the bathroom. “Shiu,” Toji answers the call.

“We’ve got an assignment,” Shiu states, “they want it done in a couple of hours.” 

“Who is it for?” Toji asks. 

“It’s the woman you’ve been assigned to,” Shiu explains. 

Toji grits his teeth, the woman he had been assigned to escort the last couple of times. He ends the call and comes back into your bedroom, “I need to go,” He says curtly. His demeanor has changed, no longer is he the helpless man who was begging to cum not that long ago. 

Another cut at you — it hurts you so much to hear him say he needs to go. You want to ask him to stay, but something tells you that if you do that, he wouldn’t stay. You slip your panties back on, the ones that were in Toji’s mouth. They’re wet against you from his pathetic salvia. You go over to your washing machine in the hallway and take out his drenching clothes that still were in the middle of a cycle wash. You shove the clothes into his hands, dripping. 

Toji notices your changed attitude as well, he wants to kiss you on the cheek and tell you that he’s not leaving because of you. But he could never tell you what he does for a living. What he’s been doing his whole life to make needs met. Toji wrings out his clothes in your bathroom over the bathtub and changes into them. They’re uncomfortable and hard to put on but he has no other choice. Toji walks into the living room where you’re waiting for him at the front door that’s already open for him. 

Toji wants to reassure you, he can see it on the look on your face — that you’re pissed off at him. His hand comes up to your face in hesitation, and before it can meet your cheek, you place something in his hands; 

Toji takes a look at his palm; it’s his apartment keys. He was going to leave without them, Toji was always attentive when it came to small things such as that. 

You bid him farewell bitterly, “Grab a cab.” 

Toji does the only thing he can do to somewhat reassure you, “I’ll see you at the appointment, Miss L/N.” And he leaves your place. 

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

The Beacon Witch

-Y/n moves to Beacon Falls to stay with her Guardian Deaton and finds love in the shape of a wolf- Reader x Derek Hale-

Leaving school and going to stay with your godfather in a place you’d never heard of before wasn’t what you’d had in mind. Your motorbike roared as you came to park outside the small veterinary clinic. 

You hadn’t seen Deaton in years, mostly because his work made him travel a lot. He was practically your Uncle, now that your last parent had passed, you were officially under his supervision. New home, new life, new school. That wasn’t daunting at all… 

To make matters worse, you weren’t a normal teenage girl. No, that would be too easy. You were a Witch. Not like the ones you see on tv, green skinned, big long wart nose. Nope, a normal teenage girl, motorbike, Doc Martens and leather jacket, not to mention your grimoire that you carried everywhere with you. 

So far, your life had been pretty plain sailing, it wasn’t until the months before the death of your father that things had started to go down hill and fast. Before then, you didn’t even know Witches existed, let alone that you were one. Your powers started to manifest when your father got his first diagnosis, it was like the universe was telling you that you needed something extra just to survive the next few months and then after. Now here you were. You’d had to figure everything out on your own. The only guidance were a few books and notes your mother had left behind to you in her will. Thats who you inherited your witchy abilities from apparently. Among the books were stories of other creatures, vampires, Shapeshifters… Werewolves. You would have laughed, but considering you had magical powers, you had to believe you weren’t the only supernatural thing out there.

Deaton had offered to collect you. 4 hours on a bike was a long journey but one that you felt you needed to take on your own. Driving into Beacon Hills had felt… ominous. You usually had a sixth sense for these kinds of things and the town just gave off vibes of danger and death. You didn’t know much about Beacon Hills, your little research of the place brought up numerous deaths within the last few months, multiple disappearances, but hey, at least your new school had a great lacrosse team *insert eye roll here*

The engine of your bike turned off with a roar. Swinging your leg over you balanced the machine and kicked the stand up. It was warm and you had regretted wearing your bike jacket but safety first and all that…. You were quick to remove your helmet, swishing your hair away from your face, grateful for the slight bit of breeze. Adjusting the bag on your back, you started towards the animal clinic door. He had told you its where he most likely be when you arrived and if not, you could always hang out until he got back. 

The entrance was cool, instantly hit by a wave of air conditioning. The little bell at the top of the door chimed letting him know someone was here. The person that came out of the back room wasn’t who you’d expected. Instead you were faced with a boy your age. Dark shaggy hair, a squint jawline and narrowing eyes. 

“Were closed.” Rude. His attitude sucked. You pointed a thumb toward the door and walked toward the counter, setting your helmet down. 

“Guess the locks on the door didn’t get the memo.” You rolled your eyes at the boys shocked expression. It wasn’t your fault you were being standoffish, he was rude first! 

“Scott it’s okay, this is my goddaughter Y/N.” You smiled widely as Deaton rounded the counter, coming out from behind it to give you a much needed hug. You sighed, relishing in the moment. You’d missed him. Missed this. The feeling of someone caring for you rather than you having to always care for them. 

“Oh hey, i’m sorry for being a jerk, I’m Scott.” The boy stuttered and stuck out his hand for you to shake. You blushed a little. On a second look, he was kinda cute, in a boy next door kind of way. “I work for your godfather part time when i’m not at school.” Ah, so I was right, he was my age and most likely, we’d be in the some of the same classes together. 

“It’s alright haha, I bet you don’t get a lot of strangers around these parts. I’m Y/N and I think we will probably have classes together if i’m guessing your age right! Maybe you’ll be able to show me around, if you’re not too busy.” You smiled at the boy again. He wasn’t your usual type, but you could definitely see yourself being friends with him. At this point, you needed all the friends you could get. Being the new girl sucked. 

——————————————————————————————————

Joining a new school hadn’t been as bad as you’d expected actually. You’d been there two weeks and already you had a new group of friends. Alison, Lydia, Scott and Stiles. They’d been nice enough to take you in instead of letting you walk around like a lost puppy and now you felt like part of something. You couldn’t find the word for your friendship group, you were almost like a pack. Funny considering Scott was a Werewolf. He hadn’t told you that, neither had Deaton, it was like you had a Witchy honing beacon that blared ‘wolf’ as soon as you met him. 

Things at home were good too. In the beginning you thought that maybe moving in with Deaton would be weird but it was far from it. It just felt natural and he took on the parental role pretty well and quickly too. Also, he knew you were a Witch, which shocked you to the core. The day you arrived and after Scott left that’s when he dropped the truth bomb. You were a Witch, he was a Druid. Thats partly the reason he was your godfather in the first place, he had been best-friends with your mother and she knew that one day you might go looking for answers. 

Which brings you to right now. Standing outside your new high school with your new friends. Your chatter was interrupted by the screech of car tyres coming to a stop. In front of you a sleek black dodge. The windows were too tinted to see inside but you didn’t have to wait long. The door was thrown open and out stood the most gorgeous man you think you’d ever seen in your life. Tall dark and handsome just about covered the tip of the words used to describe the god standing in front of you. He knew he was gorgeous too. That smirk. Panty dropping smirk. His brow was furrowed, he wasn’t in a good mood as he approached Scott. Before he reached him, he stopped, eyes landing right on you. He was staring, a shocked expression now gracing his beautiful features. If you weren’t nervous before, you were now as you watched the man stalk toward you. 

“I’m Derek.” He smiled at you, a smile you knew you’d never get used to. Also, another wolf, you could sense he was more powerful than Scott. 

“I’m Y/N.” He took your hand in his and instead of shaking it he kissed your knuckles. What a gentleman. If you weren’t leaning against your bike you probably would have swooned and fallen over. In the background you could hear Stiles talking to Scott. 

“What in the hell am I witnessing right now.” You heard Lydia tell Stiles to shut up, elbowing him in the side. “Ow!” You and Derek were still lost in each others eyes, the world seemed to disappear around you both, until someone coughed to gain your attention.

“How romantic.” You heard Lydia sigh in the background but it was Scott who was standing in front of you. 

“I hate to break this meeting up but Y/N, Deaton is expecting us and I don’t want to be late.. again.” 

——————————————————————————————————

As you pondered over your homework in the front of the clinic, your mind couldn’t help but float back to the moment you met Derek Hale. Yous sighed. Puppy love. Oh sweet baby jesus he was fineeee. He never got to say what he wanted to Scott, you both left in a hurry realising the time. You wished you’d had longer to speak to Derek, you had a feeling though that it wouldn’t be the last of seeing him around. 

Your day dreaming was interrupted as the bell on the door dinged, you looked up with a smile about to greet the person who had arrived but the smile faded fast. You didn’t know who the man was standing in front of you but you didn’t like his vibe. His whole aura was off and flickered between the colours of vibrant red and a sickly yellow colour. Red normally meant danger, and the sickly yellow when it came to seeing aura normally meant something along the lines of chaos or greed. Nope, not someone you wanted to deal with today. He’d obviously seen you before you could make your great escape and it wasn’t like he was alone. Two large men flanked either side of him, both wearing leather jackets and sunglasses. Menacing didn’t even cover the half of it. 

“Hi there, how can I help you today sir?” Fake it till you make it girl. You switched on your charm. Kill em with kindness. The man grinned back at you slowly. 

“I’m here to see Deaton, tell him Gerard is here to see him.” You gulped. Heck, normally you’d be braver than this but your fight or flight senses were telling you to get the hell out of dodge and so that’s what you did. Off your stool in seconds, you moved through to the back room where you noticed Scott crouched down in the corner. HIs finger to his lips. Oh god, if this couldn’t get any weirder…. 

“Ummmm Uncle Deat’s, there’s a scary old dude here to see you, says his name is Gerard..” Your godfather rounded the corner, for a split second you thought you saw concern but if anyone could fake a smile better than you it was Deaton. 

“Thank you Y/N, please wait in here.” He pointed to Scott who waved at you to come over to him. What in the fuck is going on… has everyone gone crazy? You played along though, you creeped over to the corner of the room and crouched down in the corner with Scott. 

“Are you going to tell me why were crouched in a corner hiding from a man who looks dustier than spongebob when left in the sun?” You whisper yelled. Scott gave you an incredulous look and you shrugged. You could slightly make out the conversation from where you were in the back but not enough to know what was really going on. 

“That’s Gerard Argent, Alisons grandfather, he’s bad news and well, his family don’t really like that i’m dating his daughter, hence the reason i’m hiding.” Scott was lying. You could tell because the colour of his Aura was all over the place. You narrowed your eyes at him but let it slide. Did you really want to get involved in his love life drama? You think not. 

It seemed like forever, but the goons out the front finally left. Your knees creaked as you got up from the floor…practically a grandma. 

“What did he want?” Deaton looked a bit shaken when he came through. 

“Nothing really, just had questions about Wolves.” 

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2023, Day 4 - Missing

(Set during "How Long Is Forever" because apparently I like hurting myself.)

---

The gears near the ceiling rumbled as he stepped into the dimly lit room. Nightwing didn't blink, his eyes already adjusting.

He made a clinical sweep, glancing in each of the corners of the room to check for hidden threats. Satisfied for the moment that nothing had gotten past his security system, he made his way to the computer control on the far wall.

His boots echoed emptily in the hollow space, dull echoes bouncing off the surfaces. Aside from his footsteps and the occasional hiss of steam, it was oppressively quiet.

With a flick of a hand on the console the system booted rapidly to life, cool blue artificial light falling across his face. The camera feeds arrayed themselves on the topmost bank of screens, showing silent snow-covered angles of Jump City. His OS waited for his input, blinking green cursor in the DOS window that had auto-opened on the screen.

Nightwing reached for the keyboard. He happened to glance at the other icons on the desktop.

His hand stilled, hovering over the space bar.

He stared, confused, at the small red circle imposed over the shortcut for the messaging app.

The little dot stared back at him for a long moment as his mind blanked out, bewildered.

He had a message?

He never got messages.

Cyborg was the only one who still had his contact info and in all the years he'd been set up here he had never...

He was frozen for a portent minute. Warily, he moved the cursor to hover over the icon.

He hesitated for one second longer before he clicked it.

The message opened. It was from Cyborg, like he'd thought, and consisted of a single line:

You were right. She's back.

Nightwing gaped at the words, uncomprehending for a tense eternity. His eyes widened abruptly, the dawning realization of what Cyborg meant hitting him like a bowling ball.

Yanking out his desk chair, he sat down and flipped through camera feeds, flashes of the city blipping one by one in rapid succession as he searched.

Downtown business district, nothing. Central Park, nothing. The abandoned factory section, nothing.

Finally, he found an angle that showed a flying streak floating over the city. Breath hitching, he adjusted the programming of his surveillance system, directing it to track the anomaly.

The system filed through a few different cameras before one caught a close enough glimpse.

The air left his lungs like his breath had been punched out of him. His back hit the chair solidly as he sat, gaping, a vice of emotion squeezing around his throat.

Vibrant red hair. Orange skin. Purple garments accented with metal bracers.

His heart was sputtering, like it had forgotten how to beat. He could hear his pulse loud in his ears.

It couldn't be...

Starfire.

His head spun, sitting there dumbly, just watching her as the cameras tracked her across the city. With a rush, he hurled forward, typing out a reply to Cyborg.

When? was all he managed to get out, before his impatience made him smack the button to send.

The wait between the response seemed interminable.

A new message blipped.

She's looking for Warp. She's trying to set things right. She needs help.

Frantic fragmented disjointed thoughts collided in his head, but his body was moving automatically, sliding to another panel, scanning for chronol distortions. Within minutes he was on Warp's trail.

Long buried emotion threatened his composure, rising up like heat in his face, stinging his eyes. He clamped down on the surge, shoving it back under the lid he kept all his feelings under.

Focus, he told himself.

Cold professionalism dropped over him again, as he leapt from the seat and stalked back out. Though his body was charged up with adrenaline he kept it controlled, his face as expressionless as ever.

The biting chill of the outside air clawed at his face, scraped his lungs as he moved silently across rooftops. Nothing slowed him down. He didn't stop to think. If he stopped moving, he would start to double-guess, question himself. He had to keep going fast enough that the grief couldn't reach him.

At the same time, he pushed back against the warm spark starting to pop inside his chest, the faint flickerings of hope. He was just going to check this out, that was all. Investigate Cyborg's claim. He couldn't afford not to. He'd promised he would never stop looking.

He made it to the last location his scanner had pinged Warp's tech at. It was an open boulevard, and there were two figures there, unusual since these roads were usually empty and abandoned these days.

One wore gold-plated armor. Encased helmet, black slacks. Nightwing would know him anywhere. Warp. The other...

A sharp splinter of hot iron felt like it stabbed up through his stomach, piercing his heart and lungs. His limbs pumped faster; he leapt from the roof to the street below, his only goal to reach her before the blast charging in Warp's weapon did.

Robotically, he flung himself at Warp, anger burning under his sternum that the man would dare raise his hand against her again. The villain weighed practically nothing to the surge of strength flowing through him; as soon as he found his feet he was throwing Warp down an alleyway.

Warp hit the wall so hard it cracked, but Nightwing wasn't done, hurling a handful of explosive disks.

They popped off in the empty silence like thunderclaps, smoke and fire filling the alleyway. Nightwing punched through the smoke with a yell but the villain was already gone, slipped away like mist.

One long slow inhale and he calmed himself, the hot fury inside him siphoning away. Control. He wasn't fifteen anymore.

But he stood and turned around and she was. She was small and wide-eyed and so young; it was boggling to be looking down at her. She seemed so much tinier and thinner, standing timidly at the entrance to the alley, green eyes like wide plates, astonished, fearful, and a bit uncertain.

She was breathtaking, stepping from the shadows of the past unchanged like some kind of immortal fae... and he couldn't touch her.

A somber shroud darkened over him. She couldn't stay. She was trying to go back, of course she was trying to go back. She didn't belong here, in this bleak, hopeless future. The damage was done. His timeline would never go back to the way it was.

She couldn't stay.

He steeled himself firmly, posture somber, shuttering away his heart, and all the things he wanted to tell her.

I love you. I missed you. Please don't go away again.

Instead he said:

"It's good to see you again."

***

There was some part of him that felt lightened, free of some heavy weight, even though he knew she would only be here temporarily.

"Watch your step," he told her, leading the way down the stairs. "The third stair from the bottom is a little warped."

It squeaked under her foot as she put weight on it and she gawped, yelping a little, startled.

He turned his face so she wouldn't see him smile.

"We can track Warp through the chronol distortion he causes around him," he told her, pressing a button on his gauntlet and bringing up his personal HUD, which showed a little holographic map of the scans his supercomputer up in the main room were running on the city. "Temporal anomalies cause vibrations in the air molecules that the scanners can pick up."

Switching off the display he went for the weapons rack, loading his utility belt back up with all the basics. He'd left with a severely depleted supply when he'd gotten Cyborg's message, and he wanted to be prepared for anything in the upcoming fight.

"We hit him hard, but carefully. Chances are the tech in his suit is the only thing that can send you home. We don't want to damage it," he was rambling absently, loading up freeze discs and wingdings. "Hopefully the others will come help, but I think we can still take him if they don't."

"Robin?"

For some reason, this time, her voice froze him in place like ice, a lasso looping tight around his throat and squeezing, rendering him incapable of speech for a moment.

Nightwing's mind strained for control, his adam's apple bobbing harshly as he swallowed.

"Have... have I done something... wrong?" she asked.

His head whipped around, against his better judgement. "What?" he blurted. "No! No of course not, Star," he rushed to assure her, the rest of him turning around to face her. "Why would you think that?" he asked in dismay, cracks showing in his unflappable expression, unable to hide the distress that pinched his eyes.

She ducked her head, softly, some kind of awful sadness in her eyes. "It is just..." she began, then fiddled with her hands a long moment, wringing them. "You... you have not touched me once since we were reunited," she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it. "You have barely even looked at me."

Screams scraped against the sides of his head and it was all Nightwing could do to keep his expressionless mask in place.

Starfire clutched her hands tighter around the edge of the blanket, the only display of affection he had allowed himself to give her, shrinking in on herself like a wilting wildflower.

"I... I know that it is... different now," she strained out, "and you cannot reassure me in the way you might have when we were younger..." She was almost biting her lip, eyes watery and welling. "But I... you feel so distant and strange and I—I cannot help but feel like you don't want—"

He broke.

In an instant his arms were wrapped around her, and he was fifteen and terrified again, his face buried in her hair, embracing her with all his might and shuddering, silent sobs rattling up through him.

"You were gone," he whispered. "You were gone, Starfire. You disappeared." His throat was clogged, snot and inelegant emotion choking him. "I never stopped looking. I couldn't. But you were gone for so so long that I just—"

A strangled hiccup escaped him.

"—It—It hurt too much, I—"

Her hands pressed on either side of his face, pulling his head firmly back in front of hers, so she could look him directly in the face.

"I am sorry," she whispered tremulously, voice wavering. "I am sorry you had to go through that. I am sorry I was not there. I am here now," she told him.

Nightwing sniffed back his breath, senses tingling, struggling to regain his calm. "It's okay," he said, even though it wasn't, even though everything in him wanted to shatter. He forced himself to take a step back, distance himself from her warm touch.

He inhaled and exhaled, getting himself back under control. She watched him with concern, familiar and touching, her gaze like a soothing balm on his soul.

She can't stay, he reminded himself. He had to send her back. To her time, her Robin.

He wouldn't let himself go through this again.

A firm, burning determination shone in his eyes as locked eyes with her.

"Let's get you home," he said fiercely, conviction ringing out through every part of him as she ignited fire in his bones.

They would set this right.

[simp-ly-writes]

Meet the Doctor pt.9

Pairing: Stardew Valley Harvey x Reader

Summary: The year is going by and what does Harvey think about the reader throughout it all?

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, crying, anxiety attack mentions, the whole drill (shit happens).

A/N: I promised, and lets see if I upheld that promise all those chapters ago.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Meet the Doctor Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) you are here

The door chimes and you were running, running from yourself and running from the museum without a coat. The wind swept through your hair placing many layers of snowflakes in it as they ate away at your layer of skin. Up the street and past the shops you ran, the multi-coloured lights mocking your ruined appearance as they blinked aggressively in your peripheral vision as you enter the clinic, the door hardly clanking against its frame as you move with purpose, your body shivering with a mixture of adrenaline, anxiety and possible hypothermia. 

You quickly take a look at the empty front desk as you lead yourself further into the clinic, lacking the usual coffee and baked goods. Majority of the lights are off, and the doors are locked all for one just off to your right. Taking a deep breath in you knock lightly on the wood, pausing for a second thought, you hear soft cries coming from within and then enter with determination.

You see Harvey in his office chair, looking over notes as his chest rises up and down sporadically. As you make your way over- shivering he slowly turns to face you yet refuses to make eye contact. Your heart dropped at this action, so this is it, you thought to yourself.

So this is it, Harvey thought to himself while taking in your blue skin, subconsciously moving to place his green jacket around your shoulders, slightly smiling at the slight before becoming seated once more and raising his hand for you to sit in the one across from him. 

With you both seated, you both open your mouths to speak in an all too familiar scenario back on a park all those months ago, Harvey moves to say you should speak first yet you beat him to it and the Doctor starts opening up.

I-I thought that everything was going alright, great even. Every morning I would get to see you, your hair a mess still and your eyes slightly closed as you yawned good-morning to me in the most adorable fashion. I thought that was enough for me yet I see you standing there with him, stringing your fingers through his hair. It reminds me of my place in your life and all the differences that separate you from me, and between myself in my heart and my brain. Today was just another example of that. 

Harvey- I-, you get interrupted for the first time ever since speaking with him, surprised, he apologises yet continues his speech. 

I guess I worried about you going away… that is why I never offered more… did more like I should have… like Elliot did… Harvey takes a deep breath. I guess what I’m meaning to say is that I was worried of being left behind as well… that if we ever were to start something new, something more… that you would realise I would never be enough. I know that I am not the most interesting guy, and Elliot is everything that I could never be... 

His throat clogged mid sentence, holding back the tears from a bay in his eyes. Glasses become steamy, hands shaking as he struggles to make eye-contact with your dropping facial expression. So this is it. Harvey repeats to himself once more, this is how things are going to end… It was your turn to interpret the conversation now as you noticed the Doctor begin to spiral his thoughts. 

With passion settled into your eyes, you grabbed Harveys face in your hands, ensuring that he was looking at you with what you were about to admit. Harvey, In the past I have been confused with versions of myself and of what relationships are, I have made mistakes and learned so much in this year I have been in the Valley and since meeting you. 

I know that I don't look for the most fun nor the most interesting person in the world. I know that I don't need someone who will write poetry about our love story for the world to hear and I most certainly don't need one who comes and goes through the door every night, leaving me feeling stranded here as their career begins to have the whispers of taking off into the washed lime-lights in a godforsaken museum that burns the hatred in my very core. I came to this Vallery for a reason, and the longer that I stay here. 

The more that I realise that reason is you. All I need is you, all I could ever want in every lifetime is to have a man that is dependable, understandable and happens to have a very good moustache. And every time without a doubt in my mind, that would be you and my soul would do everything in its being to find you in a sea of fakes and non-forevers. You are my forever Harvey, for as long as you'll have me. I know the traditionalists will call this early but I knew that early on you were going to be something special to me and I am so sorry that I took me this long and in all this emotional turmoil to find that specialness is within a prolonging romantic drive I hold for you and you alone. 

You finish your speech with tears welling in your eyes as Harvey leans over and collapses in your arms. You feel each other's tears run down your necks as you both breathe in deep, taking in one another comforting presence to then move apart and share your first kiss, short and sweet in the room where it started two years ago. You both fall back laughing in your chairs after, brains not fully contemplating what your hearts have predicted since the beginning and Harveys looks at you smile wide as lines crinkle around his eyes lovingly. 

--

Bonus:

I think that your heart rate is rather high, do you have an explanation behind it this time? Your doctor teases you. 

I think that I’m just really excited this time Harvey, because this time what I feel and what I know are now the same. Harvey hums in agreement to your statement, leaning forward to kiss you once more as Maru enters the moment a second later, shock racking through her frame as she pivots on her heel and exits the room as soon as she enters. 

To be continued... promise fulfilled.

Meet the Doctor Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) you are here

[sunflowernyx]

Chapter 1 I New Chapter

“I don’t know what’s crazier…”

Mulder leans in, chest to steering wheel, and squints through the window. There’s a crossing somewhere around here, he knows, but—

Lights appear out of the heavy fog and he slams the breaks hard enough both he and Scully bounce in their seats.

Stupid heatwave.

“Driving in this damn fog,” Scully continues, gasping and grabbing at her seatbelt. “Or going on a wild quest to really prove aliens exist. Mulder, that was a green light!”

She turns in her seat, her hair flying out wildly. She is furious.

“Says the woman with the telepathic child,” he counters cheekily to direct from his mishap.

“We are not talking about psychic abilities here,” she snaps. “Why are you stopping?”

All around them the world is draped in white. The snow hasn’t entirely evaporated from lawns and side-walks yet, but it’s a close thing. All the vapor hangs in the suddenly much warmer air, the contrast brought on by what he can only assume is an unnatural heatwave. Climate change.

Winters never used to be dangerous like this.

“You know, the interesting thing about you, Scully?” He asks, misdirecting from his colour-blindness once more as he starts up the motor again. “When you have definitive proof of something you no longer treat it as extraordinary or fantastical.”

She turns her face away and he wishes it was safe enough to follow the motion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs. “I’d still like to catalogue it. But I’m not going to put her through an MRI at her age. And that still doesn’t prove the rest of your, frankly, outrageous claims.”

“Which is why,” he says, safely sliding into a parking lot two blocks from their actual destination and singing, “we’re here.”

He waves Scully around to the back of the car, and they each done one of two backpacks he intends to fill with evidence and paperwork.

The lid of the trunk falls, the lock clicks, and Mulder pats his pocket one last time to check that the stiletto is safely within his reach before waving her along across to the building on the other side of the street.

The fog weaves between trees and buildings, covering cars and eating at the edges of the world, leaving the sensation that no one else exists, that all that is left in the world is ghosts.

Mulder hates it.

He prefers the howling winds and confrontational frost of New England. Here the cold creeps in slowly, through cracks and openings, and the heat seeps out — like water he cannot hold in his hands.

It causes an oppressive silence that is difficult, if not impossible to break, so that even Scully remains a silent shadow amongst the clouds.

It’s the gunmen that saves him.

A screech like a broken fax runs through his ear, and Mulder almost jumps out of his skin.

“— you there, Mulder?”

“Jesus!” He exclaims, tugging the ear-piece momentarily away from himself.

Scully jumps and Mulder waves the tech at her.

“Are you trying to make me deaf, guys?” He demands, stuffing it back into his ear.

“It’s this fog, Mulder,” Byers explains. “It’s weakening the connection.”

“So much for modern technology,” Mulder mutters darkly.

Beside him, Scully smiles.

“Or,” Frohike jumps in. “Next time pick a better day to impress your chickadee.”

“Shut up, Frohike!”

“Ouch. She that pretty?”

“No—“ he stops himself, glances at Scully and amends. “Yes, but that’s not the point. I didn’t predict the fog and the blockers are already up. Do you want them to be found?”

“Of course not,” comes Langley’s drawl. “So get to it, Casanova.”

Mulder shakes his head and is glad for his own inability to remember two headsets so Scully can only hear his side of the conversation - and she doesn’t seem that interested.

She’s lifting her head to take in the fertility clinic once more as it comes into view across the parking lot.

Out front where it faces the rest of Germantown, Zeus Genetics is a shining golden block of concrete, lit up like a beacon of hope for the future. But at the back it is a hulking shadow that breaks apart the white mist and draws grey lines into the world. A pair of cars remain parked outside, but otherwise there is no sign of life.

“That’s the plan,” he sighs.

In his right ear Byers lists the cameras they have to be aware of to the background rhythm of Langley’s typing, breaking apart the buildings security from the inside.

“Looks like this mist is both a blessing and a curse.”

“Come on, guys,” Mulder says, while Scully taps her foot impatiently at the door.

The light by the key turns green.

“And voila,” Frohike crows.

Mulder’s hand finds her back and the door closes behind them.

Continue reading here

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At this national park in Hawaiʻi, a natural paradise and a medical purgatory

On the north side of Molokaʻi — the least-visited Hawaiian Island — a piece of land called the Kalaupapa Peninsula juts out from the rest of the island.

Lay eyes on it for the first time, and your reaction might be to call it a paradise.

About 17 square miles (44 square kilometers) in size, the peninsula emerges from the base of sea cliffs that tower thousands of feet above it. A seemingly idyllic village sits on its west side, surrounded by acres of green space. A historic lighthouse stands tall along the coast, and the sea laps up onto a series of beaches. Look east and small offshore islets appear as if created by an artist.

Looks can be deceiving, however. Learn a little bit more about Kalaupapa, and you realize that this part of Hawaiʻi entered the National Park Service system not for its scenic beauty but for its dark history.

Kalaupapa today is the world’s most famous colony for patients with Hansen’s disease, more commonly known as leprosy. As of April 2024, eight people were still on the patient register at Kalaupapa, with about half living full-time on the peninsula. Remarkably, the oldest will turn 100 this year.

Though often referred to generally as “patients,” these eight people are actually former Hansen’s disease patients. They have long been cured — drugs introduced in the 1940s effectively curtailed the disease and eliminated the need for forced isolation. The former patients are not contagious and are of no threat to visitors. Those that remain at Kalaupapa do so under a unique agreement, adding to the complexity and mystique of this secluded peninsula.

With National Park Week upon us, it’s fitting that we take a closer look at this remote national historical park.

But the timing is appropriate in other ways, too. Despite no remaining federal or state health restrictions, the park has remained closed continuously for the past four years, with no visitors allowed. Recently, the park has come under increasing public pressure from tour operators to explain its ongoing closure and reveal its plan to reopen to visitors.

Come along as we take a journey through an area that has been affected by first an epidemic, then a pandemic.

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The epidemic: Patients become prisoners

In the 1800s, an epidemic broke out when leprosy arrived in the Hawaiian Islands for the first time. With locals having no cure or immunity to the disease, it spread quickly through Hawaiian communities.

The strong social stigma associated with the disease — along with its caused deformities and misunderstandings — created panic. People with mild reactions to the disease were treated at the local health clinics of the time, but advanced cases were seen as a threat to society.

The Hawaiian monarchy, led by King Kamehameha V, decided that patients with advanced forms of leprosy needed to be quarantined. The Kalaupapa Peninsula, surrounded on three sides by the ocean and the towering sea cliffs on the fourth, was deemed the best place.

In 1865, the Hawaiian monarchy took control of the peninsula, forcibly removing native communities who had occupied the land for 900 years.

A historical photo of Kalaupapa shows the colony where patients with Hansen's disease — more commonly called leprosy — were forced into isolation. KGPA Ltd/ Alamy Stock Photo

“The physical impairments caused by the illness [of leprosy] and the devastating effects on skin and nerves brought prejudice, fear and segregation in all societies since ancient times,” notes a scientific study from the University of Bari, Italy, on the history of leprosy. “Patients with [the] disease were socially isolated and forced to live in poverty and loneliness.”

Unfortunately, it was not a compassionate process at Kalaupapa. Patients, in fact, became prisoners. Husbands were separated from their wives; children from their mothers; families were never together again. Anyone diagnosed with the disease, no matter their age or responsibilities at home, was sent to Kalaupapa, without the right to leave.

In the end, the numbers are dark. Since the first “patients” arrived in the early months of 1866, more than 8,000 people have died at Kalaupapa, a world away from their loved ones.

Most of those deaths occurred in the first 75 years or so. After World War II, new treatments emerged for leprosy, essentially curing the disease. Barriers between those with and without the disease began to be removed. In 1969, the laws for mandatory quarantine were abolished. Patients — those that remained — were free to go.

Despite the advancements in medicine, society was not so quick to catch up. Social stigma, stereotype and prejudice continued to exist toward those with the disease. Even though patients were free to leave if they wished, some decided to remain and live out the rest of their lives at Kalaupapa (including the eight currently on the register). In time, it had become their home, and adjusting to life outside the confines of Kalaupapa proved difficult for many.

In 1980, Kalaupapa became a National Historical Park with the intention of “preserving the memories and lessons of the past,” according to the National Park Foundation.

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Beauty and suffering

The combination of Kalaupapa’s visual beauty and human suffering has proved to be a potent mix for writers, artists and historians alike.

Check out the collection of books, poems and paintings of Kalaupapa, and one will see these two emotions mixed up over and over again. Book titles such as “Bittersweet Beauty” or “A Land of Beauty, Pain, and Suffering”; portraits of smiling patients with deformities, backdropped by the beautiful sea cliffs; stories of hope and service in the face of dark reality.

The obvious conflation of beauty and pain captures many who learn about Kalaupapa. The more you dig in, the more you find that the beauty of the place is not just physical, but also reflected in the acts of kindness, hope and service that sprung up around the pain and suffering.

Father Damien is pictured with the Kalawao Girls Choir, circa 1878. Kalawao is a settlement on the Kalaupapa Peninsula. Alamy Stock Photo

There are countless unremembered people who dedicated their lives to the medical, clerical and communal duties necessary to care for the patients at Kalaupapa. But one famous example is Father Damien (now a saint), who spent more than 15 years serving patients at Kalaupapa before contracting and dying from the disease himself at the age of 49 in 1889.

Today, a statue of him stands in front of the State Capitol on Oʻahu. Though his remains have been returned to his homeland of Belgium, his initial grave can still be found on the Kalaupapa Peninsula.

As with many acts of history, a dark time was slowly but surely lit by hope and humanity.

The National Park website sums it up best with its description of Kalaupapa: “A place exhibiting the worst and the best of human responses to the challenge of sickness.”

That statement probably resonates with us now more than ever after living through the Covid-19 pandemic.

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Covid-19 closure continues

Today, Kalaupapa remarkably still operates first and foremost as a refuge and active “colony.”

At any given time, about five of the eight former patients still on the register are living down at Kalaupapa (patients leave for non-Hansen’s-related medical treatment and other appointments nowadays, so the number of people “living” there is a bit in flux).

They range in age from 80 to 100 and get support from medical workers, National Park Service employees and other staff. They live in a settlement of nearly 200 buildings.

Today, the uses for these buildings often vary from their original use. But when the colony was populous, they included houses, a post office, social hall, churches, bars, a gas station, stores, a jail, police station and warehouses.

Though we don’t know exactly what tours will look like when they resume, previous tours of Kalaupapa utilized an old school bus to take visitors around the peninsula to lay eyes on these old buildings, learn the history and perhaps even meet a resident. Visitors either arrived by air or on foot or via mule down a trail from “topside” Molokaʻi.

Back in 2020, when the Covid-19 pandemic emerged, daily tours and public access came to a halt. Flash forward to 2024, and all Hawaiʻi public health restrictions have been rescinded. But the National Park Service is still not allowing visitors.

This fact was recently brought under the microscope by local news organizations, which featured frustrated tour operators claiming they were being stymied by the National Park Service.

The delay in reopening, says Kalaupapa Superintendent Nancy Holman, is because of a number of factors.

First and foremost, the patients. Holman said the tours that visited Kalaupapa in the past have always been sponsored by a resident; a former patient at Kalaupapa was either directly involved or a partner in a business that organized the tour.

Once the health restrictions of the pandemic were lifted, the National Park Service again offered this option to the former patients. Holman said one person is currently interested and “working very hard” to get their business in order.

“Until there’s no longer a patient who wants to provide tours, we need to offer that to them and only them,” Holman explained.

A plaque explains some of the area's history at Kalaupapa Lookout. The peninsula emerges at the base of towering sea cliffs. Craig Ellenwood/Alamy Stock Photo

Access by air has also been diminished by a consolidation of local airlines and cuts brought on by the pandemic, Holman said.

The Park Service, she said, is still figuring out how to welcome back visitors without taking up resources needed by locals.

“How do we provide [visitors access to Kalaupapa] and not compete directly with Molokaʻi residents [for those airline seats]?” Holman said. “We want to be thoughtful and sensitive in our work … not extractive.”

“I know we are closer than ever [to resuming public access],” she added.

Mikiʻala Pescaia, an interpretive ranger at Kalaupapa, also said the park is “so close” to reopening to tours. But both Pescaia and Holman declined to give an estimated date of reopening.

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The future of Kalaupapa

At some point, Kalaupapa will reopen for tours.

In the meantime, there are still several ways to experience Kalaupapa when visiting Molokaʻi. The Kalaupapa Overlook is located atop the sea cliffs, providing a breathtaking view of the entire peninsula. Bring binoculars if you want to see the settlement more clearly.

In Kualapuʻu, the Molokaʻi Museum features a moving photo exhibition full of portraits, landscapes and explanations that look back at what daily life was like for the patients at Kalaupapa.

Looking to the future, when there are no patients left on the peninsula, is one of the main objectives of the Kalaupapa Transition Interagency Working Group.

The goal in the short term is to protect the privacy and wishes of the former patients, Holman said. This includes putting a cap on the number of daily visitors, which before the pandemic closure was 100 a day. But once all the former patients are gone, the Secretary of Interior, who oversees NPS, can consider changes to this policy, perhaps allowing more people to visit.

Land ownership rights will also need to be addressed once the former patients have gone.

As previously mentioned, the monarchy forcibly removed Hawaiian families to create this colony. Currently, a third of the buildings and surrounding area is owned by the Department of Hawaiian Home Lands. Among other duties, the department provides native families with homestead leases. In this way, much thought is being given to how the peninsula might be managed going forward.

In the near future, though, tours will resume, and Holman said “big fanfare” will surround the reopening. She said that while people can read and learn about Kalaupapa on their own, visiting is still the best way to understand it fully.

“Nothing beats first-hand experience, putting your feet on soil,” Holman said. “Nothing is going to be better for truly understanding the scope of the place and what it would have been like to live there.”

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