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tortillamastersblog · 4 months ago

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⊱Drawing Stars Around Your Scars | Oliver Queen⊰

Pairing: Oliver Queen x reader

Warnings: injuries and mentions of blood

Summary: Oliver would do anything to regain your trust. . .

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“Good Night, Doctor Y/L/N.” Ella, one of the nurses at the nurses’ station waves me goodbye and I return the gesture with a tired smile.

I just got out of an eight hour surgery and I can’t wait to get home. I make my way through the busy halls of the hospital and down to the parking garage without changing out of my scrubs.

It’s freezing outside and when my fingers curl around the cold leather of my steering wheel I shiver.

I pull out of the underground parking garage and make my way home.

The streets of Starling City are busy, even at this time of day, which is why it doesn’t take long for me to be stuck in traffic.

I sigh and turn on the radio, humming along to the Christmas songs that are playing before my phone rings.

I glance at it and smile, answering the call on my car’s hands-free. “Speedy, what are you doing up this late? It’s a school night.” I tease, but my smile quickly vanishes and turns into a concerned frown when I hear the girl crying softly on the other end of the line.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Are you still at work?” she say quietly.

“No, I’m not. Are you okay? What’s going on?” I ask, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, worried.

When Oliver vanished at sea five years ago, Thea and I grew extremely close. While she grieved over her brother, I grieved over my best friend and partner in crime.

We grew so close in fact that she’s like a baby sister to me now and whenever she’s in trouble, or feeling down, I’m usually the one she calls since Moira and Walter are both emotionally unavailable.

Thea doesn’t answer right away, so I promt her softly. “Speedy? You still there?”

“I—Yeah, I’m still here. It’s just. . . Ollie. He not home, again! And he’s acting like a complete stranger. I don’t even recognize him anymore it’s just—“ she breaks down in tears and I make a u-turn the next chance I get, heading toward the Queen’s manor outside the city.

This isn’t the first time she’s broken down over Oliver’s return and how different he is compared to five years ago.

“C-Can you come over?” she hiccups and I tell her that I’m already on my way.

The traffic thins out once I’m out of the city, staying on the phone with Thea the entire time until I pull up outside of her family’s manor.

The security guard at the gate greets me with a polite smile and let’s me in without hesitation.

I get out of the car, the gravel beneath my feet crunching as I walk up to the front door, which swings open before I get the change to ring the doorbell.

Thea basically jumps on me, pulling me into a hug, and cries into my shoulder.

I hold her tight and waddle us inside, away from the cold and let the door close behind us with a gentle click.

“Thank you for coming,” Thea whispers, her grip around my shoulders not letting up.

“Of course. Anything for you, Speedy,” I reply just as quietly, rubbing my hands over her back.

We stay like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company before she pulls back, her eyes roaming over my outfit.

“You just got off work, didn’t you?” she asks, guilt scrunching up her face. “You must be so tired. I’m sorry for making you come here.”

I wave her off and squeeze her shoulders. “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. I am tired, yes, but you’re more important than sleep,” I joke softly which earns me a small smile.

Thea sighs and uses the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe away the remainder of her tears. Then, she eyes me hopefully before asking, “Have you had dinner yet?”

I shake my head and she pulls out her phone, waving it around for emphasis.

“Do you want to order some takeout then and watch a movie with me?”

Tomorrow is my day off, so I don’t mind staying with her, especially because she’s home alone and it seems like she could use some company right now.

“Sure,” I agree easily, “but I need a shower and some comfy clothes.”

Thea nods adamantly and pulls me upstairs and into her room.

“Use whatever you like in there. You know the drill,” she says gesturing at her en-suite bathroom. “I’ll go and find some clothes for you.”

I thank her and smile, going into the bathroom and stripping out of my scrubs before stepping into the enormous shower.

A knock on the door lets me know that Thea’s found me some clothes and she cracks it open just enough to reach inside, placing some clothes on the floor before closing the door again.

I finish quickly, shutting off the water before drying off and putting on the fresh clothes.

I frown when I pull on the pair of gray sweatpants, figuring that they can’t be Thea’s because she’s a head shorter than me and the sweatpants are oversized, even on me.

The same goes for the sweatshirt and when I pull it on and a familiar cologne surrounds wafts around me, I know why.

These are Oliver’s clothes.

I shiver involuntarily and can’t help but bury my nose in the fabric of the sweater, taking a deep breath.

I’ve missed this smell, I’ve missed Oliver, but I haven’t really admitted that to anyone since he came back.

We’ve always been best friends, but since we were teenagers I knew that my feelings for him weren’t solely platonic.

I never acted on them though because I knew we could never work. While he was a millionaire playboy, I was a nerd, passing all my classes in school with flying colors and getting into med school before even turning twenty.

I also hated how he hooked up with anyone he had a chance with, and I swore to myself a long time ago that I’d never let myself be just another one of his conquests.

Now though, things have changed. Oliver has changed and I have, too. We’re both grown up and it seems like he’s left behind his playboy lifestyle.

Every time I see him nowadays, he’s calm, well spoken, and a true gentleman. He no longer drinks or takes drugs, and I’ve caught him shamelessly staring at me quite a few times now.

It’s something he didn’t used to do, and it gets my hopes up that, maybe, he secretly feels the same way about me as I do about him, but then he goes and blows me off time and time again, without answering any of my texts or calls.

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even agree to hanging out with him any more because I know he’ll leave me hanging anyway, but still, every time he asks me to dinner, or offers to buy some coffee my heart flutters and I feel my cheeks grow warm.

“So, what do you want to watch?” Thea asks when I exit the bedroom, throwing myself on the bed next to her.

“I don’t care,” I say honestly, checking my phone before leaning back against the headboard.

“Okayyy.” Thea hums in though. She scrolls through some movies on her TV before settling on Elf.

The opening credits start rolling and I get even more comfortable, patting Thea’s head playfully when she rests it on my shoulder.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, our food gets delivered and we eat on the bed in silence, continuing to watch the movie.

Thea eventually falls asleep and I sigh, turning off the TV.

I get off the bed and drape the comforter over her, chuckling softly when she frowns in her sleep.

“Nighty night, Speedy,” I whisper before leaving her room.

I make my way down the dark hallway toward the grand staircase, ready to go home, but the sound of breaking ceramic makes me stop in my tracks.

I squint in the darkness, straining to hear where it came from before deciding to investigate.

The sound most likely came from Oliver’s room and because he’s not supposed to be home, I’m curious to see what caused the slight commotion.

Maybe the Queens got a cat I don’t know about?

I highly doubt that, but then again, Thea’s done some crazy things over the last couple of years, lashing out every chance she got to mask her grief.

I slowly open the door to Oliver’s room and peek inside, freezing when I see a hunched over figure by one of the bedside tables.

They’re picking up what looks like shards of a vase, stacking them neatly before getting back to their feet.

A quiet grunt escapes them and once they’re upright with their back turned toward me, I recognize them, or should I say him?

It’s Oliver in his vigilante suit and when I take a closer look I notice he’s clutching at his side with one of his hands.

He’s hurt.

I turn on the light with an annoyed sigh and put my hand on my hip, watching him spin around with a dagger in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in his fake deep and gravelly voice and I just raise a challenging eyebrow in return.

“Drop the act, Ollie,” I say calmly, watching with mild amusement as his eyes widened.

“I— What are you—?” he stammers before his shoulders curl forward and he whispers, “How did you know?”

He takes off his hood and even though I know it’s him underneath, I still feel a chill run down my spine when his exhausted eyes meet mine.

I’ve known he’s the Green Arrow ever since he returned to Starling City. I mean, how could I not know?

All the sneaking around? His sudden interest in his family’s business? The constant bruises and cuts on his face?

And let’s not forget how he physically changed over the last five years. Where he used to be a thin, athletic kid he’s now a broad-shouldered hunk of a man and I’d be lying if I said it makes him less attractive.

“C’mon, Ollie,” I scoff, crossing the room to look at the injury on his side. “You do know who you’re talking to right now, don’t you?”

Oliver hangs his head and stays silent, allowing me to pull up his bloody clothes to get a better look at his side.

The wound isn’t too deep, but it will need stitches and judging by its frayed edges I’m guessing it’s a graze from a bullet.

“Do you have any medical supplies?” I ask. I have a small emergency kit in my car, but I’m too lazy to get it right now.

Luckily, Oliver nods and points at the bedside table where he was just crouching, picking up the shards of the shattered vase.

“Take off your shirt and lay on the bed,” I command without looking at him. In times like this, my doctor-ly instincts kick in and I don’t care who my patient is. All I’m focusing on is getting the wound cleaned and stitched up.

Oliver does as I say and once I’ve gotten everything I need from the bedside table, I turn to him, sucking in a breath when my eyes land on his exposed upper body.

It’s covered in scars and a tattoo I didn’t know he had and I can only imagine what he went through to look like this.

Thea did say that over twenty percent of his body was covered in scar tissue, but actually seeing it up close makes my stomach twist.

Watching me with a knowing look, Oliver gently wraps his fingers around one of my wrists which brings me back to reality.

He smiles reassuringly, silently telling me not to worry about what’s happened and I return the smile albeit a little weakly.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, getting to work on cleaning the wound and the area around it.

It continues to leak blood, no matter how many times I wipe at it and after a while I just give up, getting right to stitching it up.

“This might hurt,” I whisper as I press the needle against Oliver’s skin, but he not so much as twitches when the thin metal pierces his skin.

I work in silence, focusing on the work at hand before Oliver’s head rolls to the side to look at me directly as he says, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

I hum, not taking my eyes off my hands and brush off his words, thinking he’s referring to right now, making me stitch him up and care for him, but then he continues.

“I’m sorry for blowing you off so many times over the last couple of weeks,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry for cutting you out of my life right before getting on the Gambit with my dad.”

I clench my jaw and finish the last stitch. I stare at my hands and take a deep breath.

I tried to forget about that.

The days before getting onto that cursed yacht with his father, I called Oliver out on his hypocritical behavior and his playboy attitude which lead to him basically ending our friendship.

I cried for days, missing several important college classes, but then the news of the Queen’s Gambit sinking sobered me up and I forgot all about our falling out.

I cried some more then, this time for a different reason, but as time went on I grew numb to it and put all my energy into med school.

“It’s fine. . .” I whisper, moving to get back to work, but Oliver grabs my hand, making me look at him.

“No,” he says with furrowed eyebrows. “I was such an asshole and you were right. You’re always right and I’m really sorry it took me this long to apologize .”

I chuckle weakly, not liking the sudden tension between us and avert my eyes. “I’m not always right,” I argue,

Oliver squeezes my hand, getting me to look at him again. “Well, maybe not. . .” he says with a small smile. “But you were right about what you said and— again— I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to admit it. I felt backed into a corner when you called me out on my shit and I didn’t know what else to do other than lashing out at you.”

“Ollie—“ I try to stop him, but he cuts me off by squeezing my hand again and continuing.

“Y/N. I’ve been through. . . a lot. . . over the last five years, but I’ve also had a lot of time to think and—“he bites the inside of his cheek and scratches at his eyebrow nervously— “and you’re honestly the only constant in my life. The thought of you and sometime’s even Thea kept me going when I felt like giving up and I swore to myself that if I ever got the chance to, I’d make things right between us. . . I’d do what I should have done a long time ago.”

I gulp and try not to pull my hand from his. “What are you talking about, Ollie?”

He can’t be saying what I think he’s saying, can he?

Oliver sits up, grimacing slightly when the stitches on his waist strain against the movement, and swings his legs over the edge of the bed so he’s sitting next to me.

The heat radiating off his body makes me shiver involuntarily and when he places my hand against the scar on his chest I gasp softly.

“I don’t want to spend another day worrying about what ifs and maybes, so I’m asking you now, Y/N, would you do me the honor of going to dinner with me? As in like, a date, you know?” He stumbles a bit over the end of his sentence but his question takes my breath away nonetheless.

My brows furrow and I feel my heart clench at the conflicting feelings running through me at the moment.

“I don’t— I don’t know,” I admit.

Even though this is all I’ve been hoping for since we were kids, I can’t help but have doubts about his intentions.

What if he hasn’t changed as much as I think he has? What if he’s still a narcissistic playboy?

I don’t know if I could stand being used by him, so I shake my head and move to back away.

Seeing the doubt on my face, Oliver’s eyes soften and his hold on my hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Please, Y/N this is not— I’m not. . .” He trails off, biting his lip in thought.

Then instead of trying to explain himself, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly.

“This scar,” he says quietly, pressing my hand against the uneven patch of skin on his chest for emphasis, “is from a guy named Kovar. He. . . tried to stop me from leaving Lian Yu and pressed the hot tip of his gun against my skin, right here.”

My eyes widen, not only because no one knew he wasn’t alone on that island, but also because he’s actually telling me what happened.

Since he came back, he’s barely spoken of his time on Lian Yu and the fact that he’s willing to open up about what happened makes me trust his intentions.

He moves my hand down his chest, against a long, gnarly looking scar that follows the downward slope of his ribcage right over his stomach.

“This one is from when I first stranded on the island. There was this guy, William, or Billy, Winter—“

“No, Ollie, stop.” I cut him off, shaking my head. “You don’t have to tell me any of this just to prove yourself to me.”

It’s clear he’s struggling to put into words what happened if his overly tense muscles are anything to go by and I don’t want him to feel like he’s forced to share his trauma in order to get me to trust him again.

“But I want you to know,” he argues weakly, letting go of my hand.

I shake my head and move closer, tracing my fingers along the edge of the scar.

It makes Olive twitch slightly and I smile at the effect I have on him.

“And you can,” I assure him, skimming my fingers over his warm skin before brushing over the scar on his hip that looks suspiciously like a shark bite.

What the hell happened to him on that island. . .

“Just not now. Not all at once and not when you’re so obviously not ready to talk about it yet,” I continue, mesmerized by the way his muscles twitch beneath my touch.

I continue exploring his skin, raising an eyebrow at the tattoo on his chest before skipping over it and touching the scar on his shoulder.

They all look like they never healed properly and I get a chill, thinking about the possible infections that could have killed him, but then my train of thought is suddenly silenced when Oliver brushes his lips against my own.

Not realizing how close I’ve gotten while inspecting every little detail about him, I pull back with a surprised squeak and place a hand on his chest to stop him from closing the distance between us again.

“Shit,” he whispers, bringing a hand to his lips. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“

“It’s okay,” I say with a soft chuckle. I take his hand away from his mouth and lace our fingers together. “Just. . . Take me to dinner first.”

Oliver’s cheeks turn red, a rare sight, and I squeeze his hand before straining to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Right. Sorry.” He meets my eyes shyly and I smile at him when he tries to suppress a yawn.

It makes me yawn as well and Oliver gets to his feet. He kisses my knuckles and lets go of my hand.

“I need a shower,” he explains before nervously scratching at his eyebrow again. “Will you still be here when I get out?”

I melt at how vulnerable he sounds and nod, slipping under the covers of his bed. “Only if you don’t take too long.”

Oliver’s eyes widen comically and he springs into action, gathering some clothes before rushing into the bathroom.

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God, the chokehold this man’s got me in. . .

#x reader #fluff #dc universe #dcu #the green arrow #green arrow #oliver queen x reader #oliver queen

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fanfics4all · 1 month ago

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Flogging

Request: Yes / No Kinktober Day 8!

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Dom!Oliver Queen x Sub!Fem!Reader

Word count: 1534

Warnings: SMUT

Y/N: Your Name

Summary: You came without permission and now you have to deal with your punishment

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

My eyes fluttered open as the fog of sleep slowly started leaving me. I could tell from the light streaming through the window that it was morning. I turned to roll over, but something prevented me from doing so. There were bounds on my wrists and ankles, holding me in a spread eagle position. I pulled against them, I could move a little bit, but just barely. Oliver was nowhere to be seen as I struggled. I wondered why I was tied to his bed, but then I remembered. I had been a very bad girl.

I waited for what felt like forever, the tension building. The ideas of what Oliver could do to me were racing through my mind. I wasn’t allowed to cum without Oliver’s permission and I blatantly disobeyed him. The door finally opened and he walked in, holding a black silk blindfold. He smirked and sat on the bed next to me. I gulped and looked up at him nervously.

“ I see you’re finally awake, pet. Do you know why you’re tied up?” He asked.

“I think so, Sir…” I answered and he raised a brow.

“You think? I’m pretty sure you know. Why don’t you tell me the reason you’re all tied up, pet?” He said.

“Because I disobeyed you, Sir.” I said.

“How did you disobey?” He asked.

“I came without permission, Sir.” I answered.

“You did, slut, and now you’re going to get what’s coming to you.” He said as he placed the blindfold over my eyes. My heart started to race and I strained against the bounds. I felt him get off the bed, but I couldn’t tell what he was doing.

Suddenly, I heard the whoosh and felt an impact on my breast. I tested and gasped in shock. A flogger. I felt him lightly drag the strings across my body. They danced across my face, down my neck, circling my tits, and finally down to my pussy. The strands slowly dragged down my pussy, causing me to shiver. Then I feel his fingers stroke my cunt.

“Wet already? You naughty girl, only dirty sluts get excited from punishments.” He said. His fingers slid inside my pussy and I moaned, trying to push against him to get more inside me. He took his fingers away and then crack! The flogger snapped against my pussy. I cried out, trying to move away, but I couldn’t. I felt his breath fan against my ear.

“Greedy little slut, trying to get fuck, hmm? Well, this isn’t for your pleasure, this is a punishment. This is what you deserve for disobeying.” He growled. I whimpered and gripped the bounds, desperate to cling to something.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Three quick swats snapped against my tits, stomach, and pussy. I moaned, feeling the pain and adrenalin course through my body. The blows kept coming and I cried out each time, especially when I felt the flog slap against my nipples. Even though it hurt, I felt so safe. I knew I was getting what I deserved and I loved it. My body felt like it was on fire. My breasts must be glowing red judging by how many times he’s struck them. My nipples are beyond sensitive from the abuse and I all but scream when it comes down on them once again.

I felt his hands rub my tits, rolling my nipples between his fingertips. I bucked my hips and cried out, the sensation was like a lightning bold driving down to my clit. I heard him chuckle.

“Sensitive, slut?” He asked.

“Yes Sir. Thank you Sir.” I answered.

“Then you’re gonna love this.” He said before I felt a familiar pressure on both sides of my nipples. The clamps. My nipples were already so sensitive, I don’t think I can handle the clamps.

“Sir, I can’t…” I whimpered.

“Can’t what, pet? Use your words.” He said.

“I can’t take the clamps, Sir, please no…” I begged. A sharp slap was felt against my tits, making me squeal.

“You can take them. Your body is mine to do with as I please, slut, don’t forget that.” He said. The clamp tightened on one of my nipples. I rolled my body to try and escape the next one, but that just earned me another slap on my breasts. The pain mixed with pleasure coursed through my body as the second clamp was tightened. He pulled the chain that connected the clamps, causing me to moan in protest.

“There. You look good enough to eat right now, pet. All hot and wet for me, and your skin is such a pretty shade of red.” He whispered in my ear. I smiled, comforted by his voice.

I heard the flick of a lighter and furrowed my brow. What was he using a lighter for? Then I felt it. A drop of something fell onto my stomach and the stinging heat radiates out from my already reddened skin. Hot wax. Before I could even process it, more drops of wax fell onto my skin. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it still hurts. Some drop more than others. I can feel the heat of the flame at times, and that’s when the hottest drops fall. The pain makes me squirm. I tried to push into the bed, he just moved the flame closer. He tugged on the chain connecting the clamps and immediately after a heated drop of wax fell between my breasts. My body tenses.

“Oh god, please, Sir, not my tits! Please don’t, it hurts so much…” I begged.

“Not your tits, hmm?” He hummed.

“Yes, Sir, please…” I begged again. He jerked the chair again and even more drops of wax fell between my breasts. I cried out in both pain and shock.

“I don’t think you’re understanding what’s going on here. You don’t get to make requests.” He said as I felt the drops of wax spiral around one of my breasts, circling towards my nipple. A whine escaped my lips as my body twisted and turned in anticipation. I felt the head close to my nipple and cried out, tensing my body pre-emptively, but it moved away. I feel the same wax pattern drip onto my other breast and the head close to my nipple once again.

“Are you ready, little one?” He asked in my ear, his tone gentle. I knew he was checking in, making sure I didn’t want to safeword. As much as I didn’t want to feel what was coming I knew I deserved it for disobeying him. Slowly I nodded my head.

“Yes Sir…” I answered breathily. The words barely escaped my mouth before I felt the drop of heated wax fall onto one of my nipples. I screamed with pain. The combination of the clamps and heated wax was too much, but I wanted to be good for him. I had to take it. My body heaved with each breath and he stroked the side of my face, lovingly.

“One more.” He said. I tensed again, but he brushed his fingers through my hair until I relaxed a little. Then the drop fell onto my other nipple. I screamed out again, twisting my body in pain. I heard him blow out the candle and lie next to me. He gently kissed my lips.

“Good girl. That was a lot, wasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yes Sir, but I deserved it…” I answered.

“Yes, you did, pet. But there’s still one last thing.” He said. My eyes widened under the blindfold. His hand moved to the chain, making the clamps move slightly. I cried out again, my nipples were incredibly sensitive. The chain lifted and I felt a tug.

“Prepare yourself, pet.” He said.

“For wha- OH FUCK! SIRRR!” I screamed as he tugged on the chain so hard that the clamps were pulled away from my nipples. I felt all the blood rush back into them, creating a throbbing sensation. I let out a wail as I thrashed against the pain. My tears were wetting the silk, but eventually, the pain subsided to a gentle throb. A wet washcloth slid across my skin, rubbing away the hardened wax. He was extremely careful around my nipples, but the shock still coursed through my body when I felt the rough towel against them. The bounds were removed from the wrists and ankles and then the blindfold was lifted. The first thing I saw when my eyes adjusted were his gorgeous blue-green eyes.

“Hey there, pet.” He smiled and I smiled back.

“Hi, Sir.” I replied shyly. He pushed some hair from my face.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, caressing my cheek.

“Better Sir, thank you.” I answered.

“Are you sorry for disobeying me?” He asked.

“Yes Sir. I won’t do it again.” I answered with a small smirk and he chuckled.

“Oh, I think you’ll do it again. You are a very bad girl after all.” He said and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe…” I said as he gathered me in his arms.

“I love you, Y/N.” He said.

“I love you too, Oliver.” I said, knowing our playtime was over for now.

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