#like it’s not that deep but 😭 idk i got spooked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 4 months

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hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.”

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?”

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.”

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.”

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.”

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea.

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.”

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow.

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?”

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.”

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over.

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained.

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.”

“Mm, thanks.”

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Mhm. I’m ready.”

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away.

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh.

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.”

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you.

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers.

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.”

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.”

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?”

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.”

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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rosenallies · 1 year

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"I need you to be quiet for me, okay?" alien Sasha and werewolf Anetra's first meeting. So definitely not smut, even if I took it from that list.

This is so stupid and weird sbsbsv weird girlie shit but anyway <3 idk how to write sci fi so I tried my best 😭

—-

Anetra’s ears perked up as an unfamiliar scent filled her sensitive nostrils, it smelled of smoke and burning wood, igniting her panic. She ran full speed toward the smell, slowing down to approach cautiously as she got to where the scent was the strongest. Creeping alone the tree lines, she peered into the opening in the middle. Despite the strong smell of smoke, no smoke appeared, only a lone woman standing in the middle of the clearing. Even from afar, Anetra could tell she was beautiful, but there was something off about her that Anetra couldn’t quite make out. Anetra phased back to her own human form and stepped into the clearing.

“Who are you?” She said, the woman looking at her and cocking her head to the side, a smirk on her perfect face, “this is private territory.”

The woman smiled. “So it is.”

Anetra stepped closer, only a foot or so away from her. Up close, Anetra could sense she wasn’t human, at least all the way. She obviously wasn’t a wolf, like Anetra, she didn’t have the features or the scent; or the distinct warmth that radiated off the wolves, instead an icy coolness emanated from the woman’s skin. Perhaps vampire? Anetra thought to herself, though that seemed unlikely too as her irises were a clear lavender, not deep crimson like the other vampires Anetra had come across.

“What are you?” Anetra spoke out loud, the woman laughing in response.

“What are you?” She repeated, an exact copy of Anetra’s voice.

Taken aback, Anetra crossed her arms over her chest, a feeble attempt at protection. She wondered if she should phase back to her wolf form, but she didn’t want to spook the woman and have her leave. As much as she confused Anetra, she fascinated her and Anetra found herself drawn to her.

“You’re a wolf,” the woman said, an amused smile on her face, “you don’t need to phase, I’m not a threat.”

“You-you can read minds?”

She nodded once. “Mhmm, so can you, can’t you?”

“Not technically,I can only hear the thoughts of my pack when we’re in wolf form.”

“I see, well, if you must know I’m not from here. I sort of ended up here after an unfortunate series of events.”

“You’re not from here? What do you mean ‘here’? I told you this was private territory.”

“By ‘here’ I mean Earth,” the woman chuckled, “you wolves are so inquisitive.”

“So you’re an alien?”

“We prefer the term extraterrestrial, but yes, I suppose to you I am an alien.”

“You don’t look like an alien,” Anetra said.

She laughed, throwing her head back. “You Earth dwellers are so funny, you expect all of us to be green with big heads or something. My species can take on any form, including that of a human.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Of course,” she laughed again, “my name’s Sasha.”

“Sasha,” Anetra whispered, tasting the syllables on her tongue, “I’m Anetra.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Anetra, do you think you’d be able to help me? I ended up here after crashing my ship.”

Anetra felt herself compelled to help, nodding in agreement.

“Good, I’ll show you where my ship is.”

Sasha led Anetra just outside the clearing where her ship lay wrecked and smoking, explaining the burning smell that Anetra had smelled.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea where I’d begin to fix this. You can come back to mine for the night if you want and we can look at in the morning?”

Sasha smiled. “Thank you for your kindness.”

“I need you to be quiet for me though, okay? There are other wolves from my pack on protection duty tonight and they don’t take kindly to outsiders, especially ones that aren’t human.”

Sasha nodded in agreement, taking Anetra’s hand. Anetra was shocked by the difference in temperature of their skin, where hers was toasty and warm, Sasha’s was borderline icy, sending gooseflesh up her arm. “I will.”

Anetra led Sasha through the trees to where her tiny cabin sat, an orange glow coming from inside.

“This is me,” she said, letting them inside. In the dim light of her place, Sasha looked even more ethereal, her skin almost glowing.

Sasha placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, sparks igniting in her skin. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Still reeling from the touch, Anetra smiled awkwardly. “It’s no problem.”

She said it was no problem, but she could tell the alien would be a problem for her. Whether it was the quick vision of kissing her, or her pack finding out about her, Anetra was sure in some way, Sasha would be a problem.

#idk what to call this au if it goes anywhere I’ll come up with a name but for now 😭😭#prompt request #supernatural au

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tendous-whore · 3 years

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Girl I’m now obsessed with your blog! Your writing is incredible.

Is it okay if I request a continuation to your Naoya work but what would have happened if you had gotten pregnant with his child and had given birth to it safely. Idk why but I’d love to see some fluff with this asshole where he tries to fix his wrongs (and he’s got lots of fixing to do).

Have a nice day💖💖

omg you’re my 2nd ask 🥺 and thank you! I appreciate it so much!!

and yes. I’ve only written him as a punching bag, or the reader as his punching bag. but I actually have drafts of him that is more on the sweeter side >:)

so your request lines up really well! And I lOVE the idea 🥺 so I’m gonna stop rambling and just UHGGG write this beaut out 😩🤌 yuh enjoy <3

home is with you

(Pt. 2 to do you think of me?)

summary: (request) what would have happened if you’d gotten pregnant and gave birth to Naoya's child?

notes: unedited & long af. I could have drawn this out way longer but I just wanted to get out all the rawness and UGH 😭🤌

Time felt slow. It betrayed him in this moment, amplifying the rhythmic tap of his foot against the wood floor from his seat. He held himself upright, and to the naked eye, he fit the Zen’in image. Dignity, respect, and a class of what a man should look, and act as. But beneath it all, his hands grasped his knees, the pads of his fingers thumbing the expensive material mindlessly. His eyes, always sharp and focused, faltered in the way they darted from side to side, distracted. And his feet continued to tap tap tap.

“Naoya.”

Suddenly, the door opened, and the fine figure of a woman stepped out. Her body, wrapped in a silk kimono, the color of it being one of his favorite. He stood up, straightening himself before her as she quietly padded towards him. Your voice caught him off guard at first, he didn’t expect to see you so soon.

“Well?”

It’s not a question, but the depth of the word is enough to hang in the air for what feels like more than a minute, but probably only lasted a few seconds. He hesitates to say anymore, to ask, uncertain of the outcome, and of your answer, but he knows it’s important. How else would he find out if it was a success?

“The doctor said I am healthy.”

“That now is the perfect time.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He watches the way your face moves, the way your brows knit together in deep thought as you carefully picked the right words to say. But it’s enough for Naoya to understand. His eyes slowly take in your form, dragging down, and lingering at the obi tied above your waist. He thinks to himself, imagining what these next months would look like. How you’d look like.

“I’m pregnant.” You say again. Your face peers up at him, perplexed by his silence, or lack of reaction. It’s not what you expected, certainly not something you hoped for either. This has always been something your husband wanted, driven to fulfill this expectation of his. So naturally, it spooked you. But your words did not fall to deaf ears - Naoya heard you, loud and clear.

Before you can repeat yourself, the hand that hovers above your stomach finally makes contact. The initially feeling, something so unnatural, so intimate, has you pull away. But the firm grip of a second hand stills you, grounding you to your spot. Naoya doesn’t want you to move, not when he feels the warmth of your skin bleeding through the silk, radiating into his palm. He can feel each breath you take, the way your heart quickened. You were shaken, startled, and surprised.

And so was he.

He pictured the way your tummy would grow, how it would protrude against your kimonos and how over time, your obi would loosen more and more until you could no longer wear it. He could imagine each morning and night, waking up and ending the day with you by his side, curled against his chest, and his hands soothing the ache of carrying his child. It would be the least he could do for you, to show you in his own ways his appreciation.

To show you he cared.

“Naoya.”

That soft voice of yours snaps him back, back to this moment. With your hair swept back into a loose braid, pulled to the side, resting atop your shoulder. It’s not a style you normally wore, out of the regular norm but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he quite liked it. It suited you more, giving you a more gentle and mature look, as opposed to the typical bun you wore.

“Your hair is different today.” He says, reaching out and touching your hair. You feel the way his fingers play with it, twisting it between his pads curiously.

“Do you not like it?” You ask, but Naoya shakes his head.

“Quite the opposite.” He breaths.

His fingers comb through the hair, loosening the braid from its tie until his palm grasped your soft locks, and his fingers weaved through your fallen strands. It’s not something he hasn’t done before, in fact, many times before when he’d bed you every other night. But this wasn’t like that, this was different.

Naoya's gaze shifted over your face, something in those eyes of his eyes stirred, something you couldn’t recognize. But you had a feeling, an inkling of the man and his thoughts. You knew he would never voice them to you, but the change in the air between you spoke volumes. The way his hands caressed your skin, his thumb rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly, and the way his body pulled you closer than before.

It was unlike him.

“Excuse me.”

You're pulling away, pushing yourself out from his reach. And before he can trap you again, your turning on your heels and walking down the hall, away from Naoya. He watches your figure, as you drift further and further until you’re out of sight. There’s this urge to chase, to follow you until there was nowhere else to go but he doesn’t. He stays this way for a while, his eyes still trained down the corridor in the direction you hurried off in.

He didn’t blame you. You’d been nothing but a wife to him, serving him in all ways that you should. And like a mare, he bred you, and nothing more. You knew everything he liked, the way he liked his tea, to the way he liked his food warm, made just before he woke up, and when he returned home after a long day. It was the simple things, really. But when it came to you, he drew blanks. He hardly exchanged words, let alone held a conversation, other than barking orders and giving threats when you fucked up. You were just a pretty little doll, who dressed up and played house for him.

A complete stranger to Naoya.

He never thought to ask, in fact, there were many things he hadn’t done now that he gave it some thought. Before today, he’d never touched you so tenderly or told you what he thought. He’d always been calm and collected too, but he had never been so out of it, all because of you. It was not like him, and yet he couldn’t quite explain this feeling of his that pulled at his chest, clawing to be let out. It made him want to touch you, hold, and kiss you, not in the way that he needs, but wants. Was it so strange of him to feel this way towards his wife?

For you, it was.

When the news of your pregnancy was finally announced, you’d barely finished your seventh month. Naoya hardly left the house anymore if it meant leaving you alone, and grew more present in your day to day life. At first, it was strange but soon enough, you’d become adjusted to his antics, creeping behind you, his hands always found to be holding onto you at any given chance, and if he wasn’t, he was always within arms reach.

“Don’t push yourself.”

“Leave it to the servants.”

Don’t do this, don’t do that. You hardly did a thing anymore, not without him having something to say. But even you knew that the less he asked of you, was for a reason. Not that he ever voiced his concern, but you felt it in the way his hands held you, his arms always there to support your weight, and the way the edge in his voice soothed you, no longer pricking your skin like it did before. Everything about him had shifted. Even the air of the house, before, you could hardly stand the tense and lonely quietness. But now?

It was starting to feel like a home.

Your home.

“Naoya!” You gasp.

Your body doubles over, an arm cradling your bump as the other braced yourself against the counter for support. Your voice is stuck in your throat, your breath knocked from your lungs as your eyes shut close. There’s a burning in your chest, an ache within your abdomen, and it hurts. It always did, but you never did get used to the feeling.

Naoya doesn’t hesitate to rush to your side at the sound of your voice, not when you're barely standing on your own. His face peers into yours, his arms reaching out to support you, and pulling you towards his chest. He’s worried that something had happened, to the baby and you, but when you scrunch your face, cheeks puffed out, and fingers holding your stomach, he finds himself breathing again. It seemed with each day, the kicks grew stronger.

“It hurts.” You whisper, afraid to raise your voice anymore, scared that if you do, you won’t be able to swallow down that burning in the back of your throat. You don’t want to cry.

“I know.” He breathed. In moments like these, all he can do is ground you, soothe you with his arms, to remind you that he had you. He rubbed slow circles against your back, your bodies rocking side to side, as your face tucked against the crook of his neck. He always smelled of the mountain, of the air and wet dirt after a rainstorm, the scent so earthy and free. And although he spoke few, his deep and soft voice lulled you into a quiet hush, until you’re ready to stand, to breath and look at him.

“I’m okay.” The pain has subsided, but there’s something in your eye that eats away at you. You always were good at smiling, putting others before yourself, but he’s also figured you out, read you like a book. You are okay, but beneath that surface of yours, you’re also frightened. Afraid of the future, afraid of how much life will change, and most of all, afraid of birth. Make no mistake, you were excited, happy to be a part of this little family you’d give to Naoya, but you were human too. Doubts and worries riddled your head, and you feared the what if’s.

What if you disappointed him?

That something went wrong.

If you lost the baby.

What if you didn’t make it?

“Oh wife.” Naoya hushed.

“Don’t cry.” His hands cup your face, his thumbs catching the tears.

“I’m here, always.”

When his eyes looked at you, when he held you against his chest, there’s a bittersweetness to it all, his words holding a newer depth. The man you’d come to know was not the same man that cradled you in his arms, he had changed and so have you. You remember the night after your arrangement, how you’d accepted your reality, of a loveless marriage with Naoya. You would never expect the same things that he expected of you, it wasn’t your place to. But seven months ago, you began to notice the little things he’d do, and you saw the icy exterior that Naoya Zen’in guarded himself with slowly melt.

For you.

So as he holds you now, you smile and wrap your arms around him too. Your body molds to his, accepting his warmth as you listen to the steady beat of his heart. And you stay this way, for as long as you want, as long as he wants. Because it’s here, with Naoya, where you feel safe, at home, loved.

Your hand squeezed his. Naoya watched, holding your fingers in the palm of his hand, as he listened to your labored breaths. You hadn’t let him go, you wouldn’t, not when your eyes begged him to stay and so he did. It’d happened so sudden, one moment you were smiling to yourself, sitting so shy, so full at his side as he drank his tea. Then you weren’t. He recalls the way he pulled you off the floor from underneath the kotatsu with two hands, finished with lunch. But before he could steal a kiss, as his desert, his feet felt damp and your smile fell, and the both of you looked down and watched as your water had soaked the kimono and floor. Once it registered, Naoya yelled for his servants to prepare for you, and to fetch the midwives.

Your cries were hard to bear. He hated to see you in so much pain, but he braved on for your sake, telling you how good you were doing, reminding you to take deep breaths, just like you practiced. You were doing so well, listening to him as you pushed pushed pushed. Until your wails finally stopped, and the room sat still, and then he heard it. Smaller cries erupted from below the bed, as the midwives began to clean you up. And after you’d been cared for, and the baby had settled in a cradle set beside the bed, and everyone left, did Naoya breath again.

He didn’t know what to do with himself as he watched your figure, resting on the bed with new clean sheets as your chest raised up and down with even breaths. There were no complications whatsoever, but he still worried that as you brought life into his world, he would lose yours. He was relieved that you were recovering so well. His eyes drift over your face, to the wooden crib beside the bed.

You’d given birth to a healthy boy, a son. He’d seen many babies before, most ugly, but not his. He could see parts of you in him already, so serene and gentle as he slept soundly when he peered into the crib. He imagined the day he would lead the Zen’in, to bring honor to his name, but for now, in this moment, Naoya painted this image of you and your child in his mind forever. You made him want to cherish these memories, to remember the little things, to love.

“Can I see him?” Your voice draws him in, as you’re sat up. You’re visibly tired, exhausted from it all but there’s a look in your eye as you gaze towards the crib, longing to hold your baby. Naoya stands up from his seat against the wall, carefully picking up the tiny boy, sliding onto the edge of the bed, and placing him into your arms. When you take him and hold him to your chest, does Naoya notice how good motherhood looks on you. You smile, unaware of the eyes that watch you quietly, etching the way your fingers stroke the soft cheek of his son, and the noises he makes as he coos up at his mother.

“He’s beautiful.” You whisper.

And Naoya nods, but his eyes don’t ever leave your face.

“Yes.” He breaths.

“Beautiful.”

#jjk requests #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen naoya #jjk fluff #jjk naoya #zenin naoya #naoya #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya jjk #request #naoya x you #jjk

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