#scar healing cream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

v1x3n · 2 months ago

Text

R I P P E D A P A R T

john price x reader x 141 ⸝⸝ navigation part one part two part three

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it?

Nothing good could ever happen to you.

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that.

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling.

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole.

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you.

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in?

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you.

You dont reply.

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk.

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it?

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't”

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets.

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone.

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you.

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

711 notes · View notes

azriels-shadowsinger · 9 months ago

Text

Fix You (Azriel x healer!reader)

summary: Azriel falls for the healer and finds new random reasons to see her, but he never let’s her help when he’s truly hurt.

wc: 3.8k

a/n: warnings: mentions injuries and blood

Never in a million years would you have dreamed of such an opportunity presenting itself to you, but after the battle of Velaris, your healing magic became rather well known among the locals. Eventually, word of your abilities reached the high lord, and he requested to meet with you. Now, ten months later, you are learning about tonics, salves, the anatomy of illyrian wings, and so much more to use along side your magic.

“One last thing. Rhysand said that Azriel is requesting assistance. Could you go tend to his injuries before you go home?”

You hide your laugh and agree to go. This is the fifth time this month that Azriel has requested a healer. It would make sense that the spymaster of the night court would need healing after missions, but he never asks for help with that. Most recently, he came by the infirmary to ask you for a cream that will help with sore muscles. Sometimes he asks for healing after training when Cassian roughs him up a bit too much, but even then, its minor injuries. One time he even used Cassian as an excuse, claiming the general needed some medicine for a cold, but later that day Cassian seemed perfectly fine to you.

Your friends think Azriel must have a crush on you and that’s why he always seeks you out, but that’s crazy. And besides, you heard a rumor that he has feelings for the high lady’s sister, Elain. But who could blame him, she's perfect.

You arrive at the House of Wind and head for the shadowsinger’s room. The house was quiet, meaning Cassian and Nesta must be gone. As you walk towards his room, you see a shadow dart across the floor, brushing against your ankle as it flies by and making you giggle. Before you can even knock, Azriel opens his door, apparently alerted by the shadow.

“Good evening. You requested a healer?” He nods and opens the door wider to invite you in and sits on the corner of his bed.

“Cassian accidentally cut me with his sword when we were sparring this morning. The skin has healed, but it’s still hurting. I figured you could use some of that fancy healing magic on it so I’m not slacking at training tomorrow.” He extends his arm, and just like he said, theres a jagged pink scar running up the length of his tan, muscular forearm.

You agree and sit next to him, taking hold of his arm and placing your hand over the scar. A warm sensation spreads from your palm to his arm, and moments later, the raised scar is nothing more than a faint line. You hold on for a few moments longer than necessary, your eyes fixated on his hands. There was something you found so beautiful and alluring about the scars, you didn’t even notice your fingertips slowly trailing towards his hands. As soon as your fingertips brush against the edge of the scarred skin, Azriel jerks his arm away and stands up.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ you trail off.

“It’s fine.” He snaps, avoiding your gaze to look at the wall behind you. “Thanks for the help.” His voice is softer now, but you can tell he’s upset. You hesitate, trying to figure out how to resolve this uncomfortable situation, but inevitably, you decide it’s best to leave.

“Happy to help. Have a good night.” You leave quickly, trying to avoid making things more awkward.

The entire way home, you berate yourself for doing something so foolish. One of the first things you learned about healing is to not make your patient more uncomfortable when you heal them. And there you were, touching something that obviously would make him uncomfortable. You don’t know the details about how his hands got so scarred, but with his fae healing, it can’t have been pretty. It reminds you of a patient you had a few years back with similar burns. You were constantly making cream to soothe the residual pain for them. You wonder if Azriel’s hands still hurt from time to time…

———

Azriel’s POV

“Do you plan to injure yourself again during training today, brother?” Cassian teases. “I see yesterday’s cut has healed already. Did a certain healer come by your room last night?”

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter.” I say gruffly and continue eating my breakfast.

“Why won’t you just ask her out?” He speaks with a mouth full of food, earning an annoyed look from Nesta.

“Because there’s no way that someone like her… it doesn’t matter. I’m over her now. Moving on.” I keep my gaze locked on the plate in front of me.

Last night, I tried to work up the courage to say something—anything, really. But when she touched me and I felt that magic run through me, I couldn’t think of anything but how beautiful she looked. I can’t help but remember the feeling of her hands on me, warm and comforting. And then, when she touched my hand, every horrible thought and insecurity ran through my head. How could someone so perfect ever want to be with someone so… damaged?

That’s also why I never seek her out when I return from missions. I don’t want her to see who I really am when I leave Velaris. One look at me with enemy blood on my hands and my own blood on my body, and she will run scared just like everyone else does. I’m just not ready for that rejection yet.

“I don’t believe that for a damn second, Az. You’re just scared. Take a chance, it could work out.” Nesta tries to be supportive, but she doesn’t get it. None of my friends do. I pretend to agree, but only to end the conversation quicker and move on to a new topic. Cassian gives a skeptical look, but moves on to discussing the evening’s plans.

———

Your POV

Two weeks pass, and you haven’t seen or heard from Azriel. It shouldn’t bother you this much, but you can’t help but miss his occasional visits, the way his shadows swirl around your ankles, the sound of his voice, the way he towers over you. Maybe you should find a reason to visit him. After all, he’s spent months coming up with ridiculous reasons to see you, you can do the same, right?

You look around your workstation at the various creams, tonics, and salves, eventually finding some that he would maybe find useful. Heading to the House of Wind, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

When you arrive, you see the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, walking through the foyer. “Hello. I was wondering if you could help me find Azriel. I have something for him.” You try to sound confident, but her smirk tells you she sees right through you.

“He’s at the training ring. The Valkyries and I just finished training, so it’s probably just him and Cassian up there.” You thank her and head that way.

When you arrive at the training ring, you are immediately stopped in your tracks by the sight of Azriel and Cassian sparring. You had always known the general had a nice body; you had healed it several times before. But Azriel… you have never seen such a glorious sight. The way the corded muscles of his back ripple when he moves and the way his wings, which were much larger than Cassian’s, were spread wide, you couldn’t help but stare. Eventually, Cassian notices you. He smirked, and then immediately moved to disarm Azriel, nicking him with the tip of the blade.

“What the hell, Cass? Why did you-“ Azriel turns and sees you. He turns back to Cassian, who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Good thing your favorite healer is here to help.” You can’t help but blush at his words. Did Azriel talk about you to Cassian? “I’ll leave you two to it.” He saunters off, leaving you alone with Azriel. Azriel stands quietly for a moment, just staring at you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the silence is killing you, and it’s taking all of your strength to not stare at the sweat dripping down his muscular body.

“I brought you something. You had mentioned once that you get headaches a lot. I have this tonic that can help with that. I figured I would bring it by.” You awkwardly fumble through your bag for the bottle, handing it to him. He looks at the bottle, then at you, a confused expression on his face. “Did you want me to help with that cut or…” you trail off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks. And thanks for the tonic. I’ll be sure to try it next time I get a headache.” He sits on a nearby bench, and you sit next to him. Reaching towards the cut, you realize you need to avoid what happened last time and ask for permission to touch him.

“May I?” He nods, and you place your hand over the small cut on his jaw. You feel his shadows swirling around your hand, almost curious about your actions. Your fingers trail over his sharp jaw line in admiration. “All done.” You stand and step away, waiting to see if he will say anything. You were about to leave, but you apparently can’t leave well enough alone, so you dig through your bag again.

“I have this other stuff you might want.” You find the soothing cream. “I had a patient a few years ago with burns similar to yours. She told me her scars would hurt occasionally, so I would make this cream for her. I don’t know if that happens to you as well, but if you want it, it’s yours.” You reach out to hand him the cream, but he just stares at you.

After a few moments, you awkwardly set it on the bench next to him. “Okay then. I’ll see you around.” You turn to leave, eager to end this train wreck of an interaction. You hurried out so quickly, that you didn’t hear the faint “thank you” coming from Azriel.

———

Several days pass without seeing Azriel. Gods, you were definitely so out of line with the cream. He probably doesn’t like to talk about the scars. You shouldn’t have gone to find him in the first place. He was obviously avoiding you. The bell above the door rings, indicating a patient has entered.

“One moment!” You call from the back of the workstation. When you make your way to the front room, you are surprised to see Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly.

“I’m sorry for my rude behavior the other day. I didn’t know how to respond to your kind gesture. No one has ever…” he trails off, setting the empty container of hand cream on the counter. “It helped a lot. I was wondering if you had any more?” Your face lights up, causing him to smile as well.

“Of course! Wait right here, I’ll go grab it.” You rush excitedly to the storeroom. It was always such a wonderful feeling to help a patient feel better, but having been right about this made you feel so happy. You return with three containers of cream. “This one is the same as the one I gave you. This one is infused with lavender. And this one is infused with eucalyptus.” You explain excitedly. He chuckles at your eagerness.

“Thank you. I’ll let you know which smell I like best.” He smiles softly. “And thank you for before. For noticing. No one has ever taken notice like that before. People usually don’t like to even look at my hands, nonetheless, ask about it.” You blush.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the burns? It may help me formulate a more customized soothing cream for you in the future if I know how you got them. Only if you’re comfortable sharing.” Azriel sucks in a deep breath and looks at his hands.

“The details are… unpleasant.“ He hesitates. “Oil was poured over my hands and lit on fire. My bro-“ he pauses. “The people who did this ensured that I healed as they burned, so that the scarring was worse. Now I’m stuck with these ugly scars.” You try to hold back the tears in your eyes. How could somebody be so cruel and vicious as to do that to someone? “The pain is usually a sharp ache around my knuckles and fingers, if that helps.” He mutters quietly, avoiding your gaze. You hesitantly reach for his hand. He looks surprised by this, but lets you. You hold his large hand in both of yours and look deep into his eyes.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. No one deserves such treatment. And your scars are not ugly, they represent what you have overcome.” Azriel blushes. A small shadow glides over your hands as you hold his, pulling a giggle from you. “The shadows are kinda cute.”

Azriel looks at you with surprise again. “Most people are afraid of them.” You watch a shadow weave between your fingers, letting go of Azriel’s hand to play with the shadow.

The two of you talk for a while longer before he eventually leaves. A smile stays on your face for the rest of the evening.

———

A week later.

You’re awoken late in the night by a chilly feeling across your skin. Assuming you forgot to shut your window, you groggily open your eyes to stand, but when you do, you see several shadows swirling around you and your room.

Panic immediately sets in. You have never seen Azriel’s shadows move in such a way, almost frantic. And the shadowsinger himself is nowhere near Velaris, supposedly on a mission, according to what Cassian said days ago. The shadows swirl around you, tugging you to stand. You throw on your coat and follow the shadows, praying to the gods that you don’t find what you think you will.

Upon arrival at the House of Wind, you hear panicked voices and yelling. You rush towards the commotion, finding a bloody mess when you arrive. You run towards Cassian and Nesta, trying to see what’s wrong, but when you look down, you see it.

Azriel. Covered in blood. Several arrows sticking out of his abdomen and wings, reeking of faebane. You immediately crouch and begin to inspect the damage.

“Cauldron, what happened? How long has he been hurt? Where is Madja?” You fire off a string of questions, not bothering to wait for an answer. Azriel groans in pain, barely conscious, with his eyes shut.

“He just winnowed here like this. We don’t know what happened, he pretty much passed out as soon as he got here.” Cassian looks at you nervously. “I tried to pull one of the arrows out, but the wounds won’t heal. The arrows are dipped in faebane.”

“Go get a bucket of water, a washcloth, and bandages.” You order to no one in particular before assessing the best plan for removal. When Nesta returns with the materials, you begin to remove the first arrow from his abdomen. Luckily, it didn’t hit any vital organs. When the arrow finally is removed, Azriel yells in pain.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just stay still and it will be over soon.” You try your best to use a soothing voice, but the shakiness is still evident. You get the second arrow out of his abdomen and begin to clean the wounds, working your healing magic as you go. Cassian and Nesta are standing over you, watching nervously, which only makes you more anxious.

“I got the worst of the injuries handled, he’s going to be fine. I still need to work on his wings, which may take a while and won’t be pretty. You two may want to go for now.” You say, not looking away from Azriel. Cassian and Nesta reluctantly leave, promising to return with the others in a bit.

“This is going to hurt, I’m sorry.” You warn Azriel, who’s still unconscious, while you grip the arrow in his upper left wing and work to remove it. As soon as the arrow moves slightly through his wing, his eyes open wide and he howls in pain. He looks at you, just now noticing that it’s you tending to his injuries, and looks panicked.

“Wh-what… how are you here?” He rasps, wincing as the arrow is fully removed. He tries to sit up, but you force him to remain laying down.

“Your shadows found me. I figured you sent them.”

“No. They’re supposed to find Madja or Feyre if I get badly injured. I don’t know why they went to you.” He says gruffly. You try not to get upset by his words as you begin to stitch and heal the wound. Something about his demeanor is vastly different from how he usually acts, colder even.

"Well, you got me instead. Sorry to disappoint.” You mutter, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. You can tell he wants to say something else, but as soon as you grab ahold of the second arrow, all he can manage is groans and curses.

After you remove the third and final arrow, Azriel speaks. “You’re not supposed to be the one who handles my major injuries.” You can’t hide the pain in your eyes, so you look away to focus on working your healing magic on the final wound and bandaging it.

“I can handle more than basic tonics and minor injuries, you know.” You say quietly, cleaning away some of the blood with a washcloth. You gather the bloodied cloths and arrows, moving quickly to dispose of them.

“I know you can. I just don’t want-“ his words are cut short by the high lord rushing in, immediately requesting a status update. Azriel didn’t need to finish his sentence for you to know what he was about to say. He doesn’t want you here. You turn from Azriel to give Rhysand a full briefing on the injuries and the expected recovery process. After calming a bit, he begins to help Azriel up and to his room.

“It looks like you’re in good hands. I’m going to go update Madja on the situation so she can manage your recovery.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. Before he can say anything else, you’re gone.

———

You avoid Azriel for a couple weeks. Every time he tries to come to the infirmary, you send another healer to take care of him. You couldn’t help asking Madja how his recovery was progressing, but she refused to tell you, stating that you were perfectly capable of asking him yourself. You know that you aren’t as skilled as Madja in some aspects of being a healer, but you never thought that Azriel would doubt your abilities. You guess that’s why he never asked for your help after missions. Maybe those months of ridiculous requests were just a joke to him, something to laugh about with his friends.

The sun goes down, signaling that it’s time for you to head home. You say goodbye to Madja and leave out the front door.

“Y/n.” You immediately turn toward the voice. Waiting by the door, you find Azriel. You look him up and down, assessing for injuries and observing his healing progress. The scars on his wings are only faint marks now.

“You look like you’re healing well. If you need medical attention, I suggest asking a more skilled healer, like Madja.” You say bitterly, walking past him. He sighs heavily.

“I didn’t mean to upset you that night. You weren’t supposed to see me like that.” He follows behind you, catching up quickly due to his long legs.

"Yes, you made that very clear. You didn’t want me there, you don’t trust me to handle your manor healing. I heard you loud and clear.” You refuse to look at him.

"No, that’s not-“ You turn down a side road suddenly, trying to evade him. “I know you can handle healing my more serious injuries, I just didn’t want you there.” You stop and stare at him, slightly in disbelief at his words. Is he really this cruel, or is he just really this bad at speaking to people? He reads your expression and backtracks.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want you around, I just don’t want you there.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Gods, I’m just making this worse. Can I start over?” You don’t respond, but he takes the fact that you aren’t walking away as a yes.

“I didn’t want you to handle my major injuries because, when I’m focused on my missions, I am a completely different person. I hate who I am outside of this city. I hate what I have to do, but I do it to protect my court and protect my family. When I get back, it sometimes takes me a while to get back to normal. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I wouldn’t scare you off. It seems I managed to do that anyway, so I guess I was right to stay away.” You finally look at him. Who treated him so poorly to make him think so low of himself?

You take a step closer to him and look into his eyes. “I wasn’t scared of you that night. I was scared that you could’ve died. I was scared of the way you pushed me away. But never of you. I’ve healed fae from all over with horrible histories, grusome wounds, and severe PTSD. You’re job is hard, but you shouldn’t handle that burden alone.”

“You spend enough of your time fixing people, I don’t want to be another person you feel like you need to fix.” He says in a self loathing tone.

“You aren’t broken, Azriel. You don’t need fixing, just support.” You take his hand. “Let me be there for you. Let me be your friend. Please.” He stares at your hand holding his for a few moments.

“What if I don’t want you as my friend?” You frown, and he immediately realizes how that must have come across as you attempt to pull your hand away. He tightens his grip on your hand. “What I mean is, will you go to dinner with me? Like, on a date?” You look at him surprised, blushing hard. “Cmon, y/n. I thought I was pretty obvious that I have feelings for you with my dozens of ridiculous injuries and requests.” He chuckles.

“I would love to get dinner, Azriel.” He gives you a wide smile. The two of you begin to walk side by side down the street. After a few moments of silence, Azriel speaks.

“Now that you’re no longer mad at me, can I have more of that soothing cream? I’ve been out for like a week, but I’ve been too afraid to ask you for more.” You laugh.

“Of course you can.”

Have a great weekend everyone!!

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #fanfic #bat boys #my writing #acotar x reader #azriel angst

1K notes · View notes

ferritins · 4 months ago

Text

IN A STITCH, IN A PINCH | J. TODD

SUMMARY: you’ve developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws, but you’re not quite sure about what the irascible Red Hood thinks of you.

WARNINGS: graphic description of burn injury, oblique reference to canonical parental drug dependency, reader is a meta.

NOTES: bringing back an old work! Re: the burns treatment depicted here - my area of study was clinical microbiology, not emergency medicine; everything I know about burns is relegated to opportunistic Staphylococcus aureus infection and how Gram negative skin flora influence wound healing. Take none of what you see in this fic as medical advice; if you do have a severe burn, call 999 and get your arse to an A&E ASAP.

After an extraterrestrial incident in your city that ended with something to the tune of 5 and a half million dollars worth of property damage and you knitting Arsenal's torn-open back together in a moment of adrenaline-fuelled insanity, you've developed something of a friendship with the Outlaws.

What that really means is that you periodically come off your shift at the hospital to find 2 mercenaries and an alien princess divesting your fridge of it's contents, and get wheedled into using your meta abilities to heal wounds that would otherwise take them out of play for a good few months.

You're under no illusions. You're aware that a healer is a useful contact to have, that should the situation necessitate it they'll take the few scant inches you can give and run a mile with them.

However, you're also aware that being a meta is a risk and that it pays to be liked and valued by dangerous people.

It's a friendship of convenience, but a friendship nonetheless.

Kori picks you up bodily and spins you in a tight circle until you're giggly and dizzy when confess her favourite shirts of yours are always freshly washed, just in case.

Roy gives you a vulgar wink when you order his shirt off to take a look at where his back scarred over, but faithfully applies the Vitamin E cream you give him for the scarring, trusting you to ease his discomfort, and sneaks bottles of your favourite elderflower cordial and the tins of Zambuk you can never find in the US for you to find when he leaves.

The only one you can't quite puzzle out your relationship with is Jason. He's taciturn, stands watch faithfully as Roy and Kori pull you into friendly hugs and dizzy spins, pepper playful kisses on your cheek and rub their knuckles into your hair. He rolls his eyes at his teammates' antics, huffs through his nose at your fussing.

Sometimes though, he'll call you sweetheart in a low rasp as he bumps you away from the sink to take over doing the dishes.

Sometimes, you think you catch him watching you with something unnameable and warm in his eyes.

You're not expecting your front door to fly open and damn near off the hinges late on Saturday evening — just as you're fresh out of the shower and only just into your pyjama shirt & shorts, might you add — but your alarm and annoyance die on your tongue when you see Roy and Kori's grim faces and the way that Jason sways despite both of their considerable strength holding him up.

You smell the odd, sour-smoke char of burned flesh as they pass you to ease Jason down oh so gently onto your sofa, and your gut goes cold with fear. The burn, once you get his shirt cut open, is not as extensive as you'd feared, but it's still something from a horror scene.

It's a third degree burn, skin mulberry-red, weeping and blistered in a long arc that curls up from his right hip to just under his right pectoral.

"Bloody hell." You breathe, horrified.

You run to your room, digging out your first aid kit, and drop to your knees by the couch as you tear it open.

Roy snorts, bitter as cyanide. "Yeah, that's a fairly accurate summary of the situation, sweets. The only reason he's still alive is because he dodged and got a glancing blow from the energy beam instead of a direct hit."

You look up from Jason's side.

"I'll need you and Kori to get some things." You say, hands shaking at the prospect of the task in front of you. "I can reduce the severity of the burn to a first degree, maybe, but it–"

"What do you need?" Kori snaps, terse. You reel off a list - topical antiseptic, light bandages, a banana bag & an IV kit, amoxicillin - and then look to Roy.

"I need you to get him to take some co-codamol. It'll kick in in about 10 minutes given his enhanced metabolism, but I can't do anything until he's got painkillers in him."

Roy's brows tighten further.

"Jason doesn't do opiates."

"Roy, if this was anybody else he'd be hooked up to IV morphine! If I start working on him without him having painkillers, he'll go into shock which could kill him." You exclaim.

You make low, soothing sounds when Jason tenses at the shouting, only to groan at the fresh wave of agony in his side.

The sound of Jason's pain seems to be decisive enough for Roy, who moves round the couch and grabs the box of effervescent tablets, dissolving two in water and coaxing Jason into drinking it down.

When the glass is empty, Roy is back to his feet, quick as lightning. He strides to the door, shepherding Kori out of your apartment.

"We'll be back with everything you need in half an hour, tops. Please, help him."

Jason comes out of the shrieking adrenaline of agony to the sound of your voice, and a slight cotton fuzz in his head.

Narcotics, then, but a fairly low dose for him to still retain this degree of alertness. Feeling the encroaching spectre of that terrible pain just barely held at bay, finds he's grateful for the medication.

He goes to prop himself up on his elbows, only to strike a line of phosphorus-white flare of pain down his side that has him hissing breath through gritted teeth.

Above him, you make a startled sound, press a hand to his sternum to keep him down. His eyes catch yours, and he sees the relieved sag of your spine and shoulders at the alertness in his eyes.

"Thank fuck you didn't go into shock." You sigh. "Stay still, I've just about got this down to a second degree burn. I've just got your hip."

You snap off your nitrile gloves and lean forward, cupping his face in your hands. "Don't make a habit of this. You'll kill us off with stress if you keep on nearly-dying."

As if on cue, the front door opens and Roy and Kori come into the living room, pharmacy bags clutched tightly in their grips and fragile hope in their eyes.

When they see Jason's alert eyes, the slow knit of skin and sub-dermal tissue and hear his sheepish grumbling in, response to you, their smiles are like sunlight.

Healing the burn is slow going, taking a full five evenings after your shifts.

Roy and Kori are intent on Jason staying the full course of treatment — settled by a, literally, on account of Kori, flaming row when he asks for his helmet and body armour —and though your entreaties are quieter, they're no less insistent.

It serves him right, probably, but it's driving him to distraction.

Specifically, the feeling of your hands over his skin is driving him to distraction.

He's not sure whether it's mercy or the sweetest of torture when you approach him, eyes darting down his body in a way that's half-assessing, half appraising before the heat-shock of your touch makes contact, pieces his skin back together.

(The thing is, Jason's attuned to everything about you, has been ever since you pulled Roy's flayed skin back shut whilst the city was still smoking behind you, totally unafraid in scrub trousers and a hoodie.

He's got it bad, and it's not exactly subtle.

Roy and Kori haven't missed that, or the way he reacts to you, judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smirks as they lean up against the wall and watch you work.

He hopes the glare he levels at them over the top of your head communicates exactly what he'll do to them if they open their mouths.

It all comes to a head on Monday evening, when you come home from your OR shift, duck into the shower and then come into the living room in a too-large grey t-shirt and deliciously short sleep pants.

Jason's heart stops for a second. He lets his eyes flit despairingly over to Roy and Kori as you prep your kit, watches their unrepentant grins with a burning resentment towards them.

Having you this close to him, worry-soft and lit like a Rembrant from the lamp on the side table without being able to touch you is the closest thing to hell there is. You're close enough that he can smell the overlapping, inoffensive fragrances of your facial skincare products, see the faint pearlescent sheen of the residue of some serum on the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the soft line of your jaw.

Your nitrile-gloved hand settles gently on the raw new skin just above his hip and he jumps, his own broad hand flying up defensively to catch your wrist and still your movement. It's a mistake he regrets immediately.

The skin of your wrist is still tacky-soft with still-settling moisturiser, hair curling damp where the spray of your shower caught it. Jason's mind spins an unbidden reel of your hands, smoothing lotion over the plush expanse of your thighs, the line of your neck and the gentle swell of your décolletage, the curve of your hip.

He presses his eyes shut tightly.

He feels feral, the hungry bones of him blown open and exposed like the hull of a shipwreck. He wants to worry marks the shape of his mouth into your thighs, your neck, across your collarbones. He wants your knees bracketing his hips, the weight of you on top of him.

God, he wants–

"Are you okay? You're not in too much pain, are you?" He hears you ask.

He knows he's in far too deep when the thought of tasting the way the words roll off your tongue flits across his mind.

"Sorry." He croaks, releasing your hand. "Instinct."

(Roy turns to Kori with a snort, murmuring low so you can't hear.

"He's been watching like he wants to eat them alive since the first time we met and it's a miracle he's got enough blood north of his waistband to be capable of speech, but sure. Instinct.")

#marley.txt #jason todd x reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd #jason todd fluff #dc x reader #I am a humble path lab dude if the medicine is wrong that’s not my problem 😭👍🏽#do not get your medical advice from fic abeg #if you’re getting poly vibes…. you may be on to something…. 🤭#part 2 might come along depending on the response to this #(guess this is where we see if folks read the tags of my fics LMFAOAOAOAOA)#zambuk ref!!!! spot the sub Saharan 😭😭😭

634 notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 8 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗔

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N remembers her traumatic past, but Matt is there to support her and help her heal the wounds through a day on the beach and playing with toys while recording a video.

WARNING: Fighting, crying, cursing, toxic and manipulative parents, traumatic childhood, a mention of aggression. ANGST with a happy ending.

REQUESTD?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The sun was radiant in the blue sky as Y/N, Matt, Nick and Chris arrived at the beach on a sunny Saturday, the sound of the boys' little cousins' desperate pleas begging to be allowed into the water filled their ears, along with the waves gently lapping on the shore and the smell of the salty sea, bringing a feeling of comforting familiarity to Y/N.

They quickly chose a spot on the soft sand that was close to the area where the children would play, spreading their beach towels and opening an umbrella to protect themselves from the scorching sun.

"Babe, can you put sunscreen on my back, please?" Y/N asked as she adjusted herself on one of the colorful towels, crossing her legs over the soft fabric.

"Of course, hon." With a gentle smile, Matt picked up the beach bag that rested on the sand, fishing out the sunscreen and approaching his girlfriend. He knelt, positioning himself behind her. "Bend forward a little, my love."

The boy opened the tube, squeezing it lightly and pouring a significant amount of the product onto the palm of his hand before setting the packaging aside. He brought his hand closer to her warm skin, watching a shiver rise up her back at the contact of the cold cream, starting to spread it gently on Y/N's back, his large and skilled hands massaging it with care and affection.

Y/N closed her eyes, losing herself in the comforting sensation of Matt's touch. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and the cool ocean breeze caressing her face.

A loud, joyful scream from one of the children made her open her eyes again, looking up and focusing on where they were running, chasing each other while their hands tightly gripped colorful, plastic beach toys.

The laughter that followed them took her back to a time when she herself longed for that innocence and freedom, but rarely experienced it. Her childhood had been marked by absent parents and a lack of emotional stability that left deep scars on her soul, her mind recreating a scene extremely similar to the one she was experiencing at that moment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun shone high in the sky, warming the small playground where a 5 year old Y/N sat. She dangled her little legs on the wooden bench as she watched the other children play excitedly around her. The playground was filled with laughter and happy screams, but for Y/N, all she felt was loneliness.

Her parents, as always, were absent, lost in their own problems and worries. They rarely had time for Y/N, and when they did, she always felt like an intruder in their busy lives. She could hear their voices shouting at each other a few meters away from where she sat, while her father's phone rang incessantly.

As she watched the other children play with their parents, a lump formed in her throat. She desperately wanted to be like them, to have the attention and affection of her own parents, but she knew that this was just an unattainable dream for her.

Suddenly, Y/N felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, making her jump in fright. Her father was there, looking at her with an impatient expression on his face, the ring of his phone echoing loudly against her ear as the image of her mother with crossed arms and angry eyes appeared behind his back.

"Y/N, let's go. We have things to do." He said abruptly, not caring about the sad expression in her eyes.

"B-but daddy, I-"

"Now!" Her father raised his voice, squeezing the skin of her shoulder with significant force in his fingers, practically pushing her off the bench.

Y/N stood up immediately, her heart heavy with sadness and loneliness. She wanted to say something more. She wanted to beg for a moment of attention and affection, where they could play together on the seesaw or the slide, but she knew it would be useless. Her parents were always too busy for her, always too far away to listen.

As they walked back home, Y/N felt a feeling of deep emptiness settle inside her. That was just another normal day for her family.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

As her painful childhood memories resurfaced in her mind, Y/N felt tears begin to stream down her cheeks. She knew, even at the tender age of five, that her childhood was being stolen from her, that she was being forced to grow up too fast, to adapt to a world where love and attention were luxuries she could never afford to have.

The girl tried to hide it, wiping her face quickly and looking away to the horizon, but the weight of her memories was difficult to bear.

"And... Done!" Matt's voice interrupted her train of thoughts, waking her from her reverie. Matt's hand, now slathered in sunscreen, moved away from her skin, retrieving the tube again before rising from his sitting position.

Y/N whispered a gentle "thank you", blinking quickly to clear away the new tears in her eyes before her boyfriend saw them, a small sniffle escaping her, which she covered with a fake cough.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Nick - who was standing a few meters away - asked, his voice filled with concern as he noticed the tears in her eyes.

Matt, who was next to their bag holding sunscreen again, looked up at his brother's question, his brow furrowed in confusion as he quickly turned around, looking at his girlfriend.

"I'm fine, Nick. I think it's just the sun." Y/N forced a shaky smile, rubbing her eyes with her closed fist, feeling a stab of pain in both of them from the roughness of her movements.

Nick accepted the explanation with a nod, but Matt could see the truth behind Y/N's forced smile. He approached her again, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

"Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Matt whispered softly, his voice gentle and comforting.

Y/N looked at him, seeing the genuine concern in his blue eyes. She was tempted to open her heart to him, to share the depths of her pain and anguish. But the fear of being judged or rejected still kept her hesitant.

"I know, Matt." Y/N muttered, her voice choked by the weight of her emotions. "I just... I was just thinking about some things, that's all."

Matt wasn't convinced, but he knew that pressuring her wouldn't help her open up. He just held her tighter, offering her silent comfort, his arm working to pull her so that she lay her head on his right shoulder, sealing the top of her hair for long seconds, the fresh smell of sunscreen surrounding their bodies.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

After leaving their cousins at the triplets' aunt and uncle's house again, Y/N and the brothers returned to their childhood home, having the need to return a little earlier so they could record the video that would be posted that Wednesday.

While Nick organized the equipment and Chris set up the table that they would be sat while filming, Matt approached his girlfriend - who was carrying her bags back to Matt's old room -, worried about her somewhat distant expression.

"Is everything okay, petal?" Matt asked softly, walking alongside Y/N towards the bedroom.

The girl paused for a moment, feeling grateful for Matt's concern, but also determined not to make him worry about her, knowing the importance of recording that video, since they couldn't publish the one of last Wednesday.

"I'm fine, baby. I think I'll stay in the room for a while while you record." Matt frowned at her airy response.

"Are you sure? Don't you want to be with us, maybe behind the cameras?" His voice came out small, full of concern, but Y/N just smiled gently in response, appreciating Matt's gentleness but knowing she needed time alone to process her own emotions.

"No, baby. I think I need some time alone." Matt nodded, accepting her decision with understanding.

"Okay, I'll be here if you need anything."

A few minutes later, after a hot and invigorating shower that seemed to wash away all her sorrows, Y/N left the room, her hair damp, and a feeling of freshness surrounding her.

She was heading towards the living room to grab Chris and Nick's bags and take them to their respective bedrooms when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Curious about the frequent laughter, she followed the sound and found the triplets sitting on the marble table in front of the camera, opening children's toys and testing them out as content.

An excited smile spread across Y/N's face almost automatically. She approached slowly, watching them excitedly, a small "wow" escaping her lips as she saw her boyfriend pick up the colorful cardboard package with a small lamb inside.

Matt, who was showing Snowy to the camera, turned around when he heard Y/N's footsteps, his eyes automatically lighting up when he saw her there.

"Baby! Do you wanna play with us? Look, this is Snowy!" His voice came out excitedly as he quickly showed the toy to his girlfriend, a childish smile gracing his face.

Y/N nodded excitedly, feeling suddenly energized by the relaxed and fun atmosphere in the living room.

"It's so cute, Matt! I've never had one of those." She responded just as excitedly, quickly moving closer to them.

Chris got up from his seat, taking a new chair and placing it on Matt's left side so that it was on the other end opposite Nick.

"Thank you, Chris." Y/N smiled in gratitude, sitting on the upholstered chair and resting her arms on the gray marble.

The girl looked at the lamb in Matt's hands with a sparkle in her eyes, feeling a wave of nostalgia and joy invading her heart. She reached out to stroke the soft fur, feeling an immediate connection to the toy that she never had as a child.

"Here, petal. Try it!" Matt handed it over quickly, the three brothers watching her as she tried to understand how the toy worked.

"This is like a toy I would like." Nick commented briefly.

"It is so cute!" Y/N squealed, her smile lighting up her face as she turned it upside down.

"Wait, I think you turn it on here." Matt leaned closer to her, bringing his right hand closer to the toy and pressing the small, almost invisible button.

Y/N shook the lamb gently, moving it in the air in the hope that it would make it react in some way.

"Wait, let me-" Matt touched the lamb's back after Y/N placed it on the table with a confused expression.

A surprised scream escaped Y/N and Matt as they saw the toy slowly begin to walk, the girl weakly slapping her boyfriend's shoulder as she frantically pointed at Snowy with her other hand.

"Oh my God!" Chris laughed, getting Nick's attention and watching the toy walk towards them.

"Let me put the leash on it!" Nick asked with a smile on his face, taking the toy and attaching the small lilac string to it before letting it walk closer to Y/N again.

Matt stared in amazement at the lamb, wrapping his right arm around his girlfriend's waist and pulling her closer, while his free hand held the small blue bottle, wanting to feed it.

Y/N laughed loudly, feeling completely at ease and free to be her true self. She never had the opportunity to have toys as a child, so that moment meant a lot to her.

As she played with the lamb and the other toys, Y/N felt overwhelmed by a sense of peace and joy, determined to enjoy every moment of the experience, keeping it in her heart as a precious memory of the childhood she never had.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon when the video came to an end. Nick and Chris were busy putting the toys into boxes to deliver to children in need the next day, when Matt approached Y/N with a mysterious smile on his lips, watching her return from his brothers' room after finally taking their bags to there.

"Baby?" Matt called softly, his voice full of restrained enthusiasm. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise? What is it?" Y/N looked at him quickly, eyes shining with curiosity and excitement as she felt her heart start racing.

Matt just shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

"It's a surprise, baby. You'll see."

While Nick and Chris finished putting away the equipment, Matt led Y/N out of the house, quickly shouting to his brothers that they would be back soon before closing the door behind him.

The two walked silently towards the car, Matt quickly opening the passenger door for her gently before getting into the driver's seat, noticing from the corner of his eye his girlfriend bouncing her leg up and down anxiously.

The boy quickly brought his right hand to her leg, firming his grip there so that she stopped her frantic movements before stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Relax, pretty girl."

After making sure she was fine, the brunette started the car, driving down the long road, the sun setting painting the sky with shades of pink and orange as they drove away from the city.

Y/N curiously observed the route, trying to guess where they were going. The playlist she and Matt had created at the beginning of their relationship played softly on the radio, filling the car with a selection of their favorite songs that reminded them of each other.

As they got closer to the shore, Y/N felt a pang of anticipation growing inside her chest, her eyes darting across the landscape quickly as her mouth opened slightly.

"Matt, where are we going?"

"You'll see, babe. We're almost there." Matt just smiled, keeping the secret.

Finally, the car parked in one of the beachfront car spaces, and Y/N looked out the window, her eyes widening in surprise as she recognized the familiar scene.

"The beach?" She asked, confused. "What are we doing here?"

Matt turned off the engine and turned to Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"It's your surprise. Let's enjoy the beach. For real this time."

The sun was already almost completely gone when Matt and Y/N found themselves walking along the beach, their hands intertwined and their feet sinking into the soft sand, while their free hands held tightly to the pair of their own sneakers. The sound of the waves gently crashing beside them created a serene soundtrack to the moment.

Matt looked at Y/N beside him, seeing the mix of emotions on her face as she looked out to the sea, her eyes fixed on the waves, and her brow frowned tightly.

"Hey princess, is everything okay?" Matt asked softly, his soft voice bringing her back to the present while he squeezed her fingers gently.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and determination.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just trying to process some things." Her voice came out lower than expected, her tongue escaping her mouth and quickly wetting her lips in a nervous act.

Matt nodded understandingly, offering her silent support as they continued to walk along the beach. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, and he was determined to help her find happiness in that moment.

So, suddenly, Matt stopped and looked at Y/N with a mischievous smile on his lips.

"How about we go for a swim?"

Y/N stopped next to him, processing what he said for a few seconds before her eyes widened in surprise, a smile slowly stretching on her face.

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now!" Matt exclaimed, dropping his sneakers onto the sand and taking hers, doing the same before grabbing her hand again, running towards the sea and pulling her tightly behind him, a scream lost against the wind that hit her face.

The two ran across the sand, laughing and screaming in euphoria as the waves lapped at their feet. They threw themselves into the sea, the cold waters enveloping them as they jumped and played like two carefree children, their clothes sticking to the skin of their bodies, but that was their last worry.

Y/N felt a sense of freedom like never before. The salt water washed away her pain, while Matt's laughter filled her ears in joy. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget all the weight of the past and simply live in the present moment, surrendering to the happiness that radiated from each pulse of the sea.

"This is amazing!" Y/N shouted, laughing as she jumped over or into the waves alongside her boyfriend's.

"You are amazing!" Matt replied, a radiant smile lighting up his face as his eyes traveled over the features of Y/N's face, his dilated pupils almost taking the shape of two hearts.

They played and jumped in the waves until they got tired, with each moment sinking deeper into their brain like a precious memory.

When they finally left the sea and threw themselves on the sand, panting and exhausted, Y/N felt a sense of peace and calm invade her being. Matt lay down next to her, their hands touching lightly, both ignoring the strange feeling of the sand against their wet bodies.

Y/N sighed deeply, staring to the starry blanket of the sky above them. She pondered deeply before turning to Matt, lying on her side, the corners of her eyes reflecting the starlight.

"You know, I've never had a real childhood." She began, her soft voice thick with emotion. "I've never talked about this to anyone before, but I know I can trust you, and I feel like it's time to reveal it... after today."

Matt turned so that he was equally lying on his side on the sand and facing her, his eyes showing immense tenderness, encouraging her to continue.

Y/N took a deep breath before speaking again, her words filled with painful memories of her troubled childhood.

"My parents were always busy with their jobs and making money, the more money the better... They rarely had time for me. The only memories I have of my parents are of them yelling at me or at each other." Her voice wavered as she fought to control her emotions. "Sorry." She laughed in disdain at her body's reactions.

"You don't have to be sorry, petal. I'm here with you." Matt whispered quickly, lifting his free hand and bringing it to her waist, caressing the skin covered by her wet clothes.

Y/N closed her eyes before speaking again.

"I felt so lonely, Matt. I never had friends because I was always very closed off, maybe because of the events at home, and the fact that I was quiet seemed to scare the other children away..."

Tears began to form in Y/N's eyes as she relived the painful memories of her neglected childhood.

"I felt so lost and abandoned." The girl continued, her voice shaking with the intensity of her emotions. "I prayed so much to whatever was hearing me to have a normal childhood, with friends and play times, but all I had was loneliness and sadness." She swallowed hard. "You know, my mom used to hit me sometimes... Nothing very serious, she just got angry because of how I behaved so quietly and different from her." Y/N shook her head quickly, a sob escaping her throat.

"Baby..." Matt traveled his hand from her waist to her free hand, holding it firmly, allowing her to cry without interrupting, knowing that she would never go beyond her limit by telling him about her traumas.

Y/N smiled weakly through her tears, feeling grateful for Matt's comforting presence. She snuggled closer to him, sand creeping up her legs, laying her head on his chest, just below his chin, taking comfort in the warmth of his body.

"It's okay, really-"

"No, sweetheart, this is not okay. Please, don't talk about your pain as if it's all alright." Y/N sighed deeply.

"My dad called me last week..." The girl murmured, changing the subject as she played with Matt's fingers between hers. "He wanted to see me again. He said he missed me." She laughed, her laugh full of irony and sarcasm.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N's phone vibrated in her pants pocket, interrupting her as she tidied up her shared room with Matt, taking advantage of the fact that he was recording a video with his brothers. She picked up the device, her brow furrowing as she saw an unknown number on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Y/N, it's me." Her father's voice sounded on the other end of the line, and Y/N swore she felt her heart instantly freeze.

"Dad." Her voice came out indifferent, completely the opposite of her emotions.

"Hey, hi! Hm, I passed by your old room the other day and thought about you, I've been missing you, you know? And I'd like to see you. Can we set up a date?"

Y/N was silent for a moment, fighting a flood of conflicting emotions. She knew she didn't want to see her father, not after all the trauma he and her mother had caused herself. But she didn't want to be rude either; despite having grown up in a troubled home, she learned from life to be kind to everyone.

"Sorry, dad." She murmured finally, her voice firm. "I'm busy. I can't." Her father was silent for long, agonizing seconds, seeming surprised and angry at the same time. "That was all that-"

"What do you mean you're busy? Are you avoiding me?" Y/N took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly and trying to remain calm.

"It's not that, dad. I'm just busy at the moment. I need to go..."

"That's unfair, Y/N!" Her father snapped, his voice rising in anger. "I really don't understand you. First, you left home at 17 and completely disappeared from our radar in such a way that I only see updates of you through your boyfriend's ridiculous YouTube channel. All you had to do was find a rich boy, so you totally forget about me and your mother. I fed you and gave you a roof over your head all your life, and you treat me like this? You're an ungrateful brat!"

Y/N felt tears well up in her eyes, a mixture of sadness and frustration flooding her body in an atrong shiver. She knew she couldn't continue this conversation if she could even call it a conversation.

"Whatever you say, dad. I have to go." She responded quickly before hanging up the phone, her trembling fingers moving automatically as she blocked the number.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"I said no. I was so short with him. Do you think I was wrong, Matt?" She cried harder, her body shaking as the intense sobs tore from her throat.

"No, never! Baby, listen to me. Fuck your parents, okay?" Matt pulled back slightly, lifting her head gently so he could look into her eyes, seeing a strand of surprise pass through her pupils. "Fuck them for always treating you in a horrible way and totally contrary to how parents should treat their children. Fuck them for fucking your head so much to the point that you feel guilty for not wanting them in your life anymore."

Y/N tried to look away, but Matt's hand beneath her chin held her firmly - but gently - in place, stroking her jaw with his thumb lightly.

"You're amazing, Y/N. You're a strong, amazing woman, and I don't want you to feel guilty about everything that happened in your childhood because none of it was your fault! You don't have to be sorry for leaving them and growing up..." The tone of his voice was firm, while his eyes carried a tone of seriousness unlike any Y/N had ever seen.

Y/N scoffed, trying to shake her head no, her mind reminding her that she wasn't any of those good things.

"I'm serious, pretty girl. You're so strong, the strongest woman I've ever met." He whispered, loosening his grip on her chin slightly, moving his hand up so that it cupped her cheek, caressing the soft skin gently. "You can let it go, you know? You can let it all go. I promise."

"I love you. I love you so much, Matt." The girl murmured, pressing her cheek against his palm and closing her eyes slightly, her wet eyelashes caressing her flushed, wind-chilled skin.

"I'm always here for you." Matt reinforced, leaning his head close to hers and lovingly sealing her forehead with his lips for long seconds, exhaling the salty scent left by the sea.

"Now, how are we going to get back to the house with wet clothes like that?"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

718 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 2 months ago

Text

Blood and Affection ~ LMH

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 1.6K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, minho worried about his girlfriend, cute, fluffy, worried minho, mafia au,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Mafia!Minhox Fem!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You are in a relationship with Minho, one of the most powerful and feared mafia leaders in Seoul, someone everyone knew never to mess with or lie to which was why you hadn't been surprised when your nurse who was treated you told him where you were.

"Traitor." You whispered to her as you saw his car pulling up in the parking lot. She smirked over at you and shook her head. She, along with everyone else who worked for Minho, had known you a long time.

Your history with Minho ran deep—you were once his top operative, known for your flawless execution of missions and unmatched skill in the field. You'd trained every single day alongside some of the best of the best in the business and you were incredible. Not to toot your own horn anything but you were.

There wasn’t a single task you couldn’t handle, earning you a reputation that made even the most hardened criminals wary of crossing paths with you.

"You knew he was going to find out anyway. I did you a favour." The nurse teased as you rolled your eyes at her playfully. It wasn't anything major. In fact, you felt stupid for it to have even happened in the first place.

You'd been caught completely off guard and left exposed to something that shouldn't have even happened.

"It's stupid, I wasn't even paying attention." You grumbled more at yourself than the nurse who was with you. But you hated it. How could you have missed something like this? Minho trusted you to be alone without a guard and now you knew that was never going to happen again.

You'd been out in town all morning, taking a rare moment to unwind in town, deciding to treat yourself at the spa and then at the local stores to some new clothes or some books if you'd seen any. But you'd only just left the spar when out of nowhere, you were ambushed by an assailant with a clear intent to kill.

Though you fought - and incredibly might you add - and managed to eliminate your attacker, you weren’t unscathed. A deep stab wound in your side left you bleeding profusely. The pain had been nearly overwhelming as you'd struggled to stay conscious on the way to the hospital, it was wishful thinking that you could hide it from Minho. The man saw you naked every single night, if you'd somehow managed to hide it from him while your scar healed you'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do for the new scar when you eventually got naked in front of him again.

"Everyone has an off day," The nurse reminded you as she applied some cream to your stitches, eventually covering it with a bandage as you sighed a little. All you wanted was to go home and pretend the day hadn't even happened.

"But not everyone's off day is going to lead to them needing an armed guard at all times," You smiled at her and she bit her lip softly and nodded in understanding. As you lay back on the bed, trying to process everything that happened, the door burst open with a loud bang and you watched it vibrate off the wall. Minho, your stoic and usually composed former boss and now current boyfriend, storms in with a frantic look on his face. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, are now wide with panic.

“Are you okay?! I heard what happened...” His voice cracks slightly as he hurries to your bedside, his usual air of control slipping away. Normally he was well put together and didn't show any kind of emotion since they were usually held against him but with you, he always let them out.

"Minho, don't make this a big thing." You laugh weakly but he shakes his head at you. You knew asking him not to make a big deal with a lost cause but you'd figured you'd try anyway. Within a second he was on his knees next to you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours, his gaze scanning your bandaged wound with a mixture of fear and fury. The thought of losing you had him on edge, his usual cold demeanour shattered by the raw emotion he feels for you.

Minho glances up at the nurse, his voice laced with tension. The whole way over he'd been panicking about what he was supposed to do now, he'd already called his guys to arrange protection for you.

“What’s her condition? How long until she’s fully recovered? Are you sure she’s getting the best care?” He peppers the nurse with questions, his usual calm replaced with a sense of urgency. Your nurse opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off as he pointed to the IV that was inserted into your arm,

“And those painkillers—are they strong enough? I don’t want her in any more pain. Is she going to need to stay overnight?” You stroked his hand gently, the small act calming him down within seconds but you could still see just how on edge he was with this whole thing and you nodded at your nurse.

“She’s stable now, sir. The wound was deep, but she was strong. With rest and proper care, she’ll be okay, she should be able to go home as soon as this round of painkillers is done with.” Minho’s gaze flickers back to you, his expression softening as he takes your hand and squeezes it softly.

“You hear that? You’re going to be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if he needs the reassurance just as much. He placed his lips on top of your hand and kissed softly before shaking his head at you,

"Minho-" You tried to warn but you were quickly cut off,

“But this… this can’t happen again.” He pointed at your wound before leaning in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand and smiling weakly. There was no way he was going to ever let anything happen to you for as long as he lived.

“From now on, you’re getting extra protection every time you step out. I don’t care if it’s just for a walk or to grab a coffee—you’ll have backup, no exceptions.” His tone leaves no room for argument, the fear of losing you still evident in his eyes. It was going to be pointless arguing with a man who was set in his ways as much as Minho was when it came to your safety,

“I can’t risk anything happening to you again. Not when you mean this much to me.” He whispered, the nurse excused herself once his men began to gather in the room. All of them watched Minho with a smile on their faces. You were the only one that had ever been able to pull any kind of emotions out of their scary boss,

"Is the hospital floor secure?"

"You did not kick anyone out, right?!" You screech at your boyfriend who looks at you with a nervous smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"If I say no, it won't be a lie...technically

"Minho-" You hiss at him but he shakes his head at you, it wasn't as if he'd thrown them out of the hospital. He'd merely paid everyone to be moved quickly.

"I moved them to different floors," he shrugged at you before you scoffed and nudged his shoulder. You'd have been perfectly fine without him moving anybody.

"I don't need protection from a bunch of old people."

"I don't care," He mumbles, looking at you and then kissing your cheek softly as you playfully scolded him for being so damn overprotective.

"I can't lose you, Yn...I just can't." He finally whispered as you pulled him to sit on the bed with you, your head resting on his shoulder. His men quickly filtered out of the room leaving you alone again.

He’s quiet for a moment, just resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your arm as he tries to think of something to say to you.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and heavy with emotion. It had been hard for him when he'd heard the news of the attack, he'd gone into overprotective mode within seconds,

“I can’t lose you. I just… I can’t,” he whispers, the words almost a confession.

“When I heard what happened, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I’ve always been in control, always knew how to handle things… but when it comes to you…” He trails off, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him. You can feel the tremor in his voice, the raw vulnerability he rarely shows.

“I’ve lost people before, but you… losing you would destroy me. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” You lift your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. The depth of his fear is written all over his face, the tough exterior he usually wears stripped away in this moment. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear he didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You won’t lose me, Minho,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, you’ll never lose me.”

His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to believe it, trying to let your words sink in. Finally, he exhales a shaky breath and presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs, his voice a little steadier now, but still tinged with the lingering fear of what could have been.

“Because I can’t… I won’t let you go.” He promised you as you nodded at him, cuddling into him softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," You whispered to him, closing your eyes as you laid your head on his chest.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #strau kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #minho #minho x reader #minho imagine #minho imagines #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know imagine #lee know imagines

287 notes · View notes

heli-writes · 6 months ago

Text

A dragon's heart, part 13.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of rape and abuse, marking, trauma symptoms, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki wakes up in a great mood. Yawning, he stretches his limbs. He feels a bit sore after last night's endeavors but he got a hella good orgasm out of it, so he doesn't feel like complaining. He stares at the ceiling of the tent with a big grin on his face. He's finally got a mate. And not just any mate, but y/n. In his mind, he replays some of the scenes when he had y/n bouncing on his dick drunk on pleasure last night. A warm tingle runs down his spine. Goddamit y/n looked so good beneath him.

He pats the space at his side in an attempt to find y/n but he only comes up with an empty space. He turns his head to see where his new mate is hiding only to see the other side of the bed empty. Sitting up, he furrows his brows. Where is she?, he thinks. Listening intently, he tries to locate y/n. Maybe she's taking a piss, he concludes and slowly gets up. Quickly, he pulls the discarded linen pants from yesterday over his butt and makes his way to the bathing hut. Without knocking, he enters the room.

That's where he finds y/n. She's leaning against the tub cowering on the floor. She's still butt-naked and dried blood clings to her neck and chest. Katsuki frowns. Didn't he take care of the mark? He remembers pushing a clean cloth against the wound to stop it from bleeding. For how long did she continue to bleed? Did she go in here in an attempt to dress the wound? Why didn't she wake him up?

„Hey, y/n.“, Katsuki calls out to her softly.

When y/n doesn't respond, he steps closer to her and crouches down to her level. „Y/n.“, he tries again. Carefully he touches her shoulder and tries to shake her awake. Y/n's head lolls to the side unconsciously. Katsuki can feel worry bubble up in his chest. He touches her hand. She's ice cold. Did she spend the entire night here on the floor?, he wonders worriedly.

Carefully, he picks her up and carries her back to the bed. Softly, he lays her down and pulls the warm, soft fur blankets over her. As he pulls the blanket up to her collarbone, his gaze lingers on the fresh bite mark on her neck. Again, he furrows his brows. The wound has an unnatural red-violet colour. The tissue is clearly inflamed and infected. Carefully, he reaches up to the wound. Y/n flinches at his touch. By now the wound should start to heal and it also shouldn't hurt anymore.

Absent-mindedly, Katsuki touches his own neck. Usually, mates mark each other during their first night together. He doesn't blame y/n for not returning the favor last night. He hoped they would do it again in the morning and y/n would finally make him hers. It's not uncommon for a mate to be overwhelmed with emotions both mentally and physically during the marking. Considering y/n is an outsider, he kind of already expected it.

Katsuki keeps staring at y/n's neck. He's unsure what to do. Mate marks are not treated as wounds. They're left to heal by themselves. Creams and bandages that could help the healing process also usually lessen the scarring. And mate marks are meant to scar. Having a very prominent mate mark proved having a strong mate and a strong bond. That's why he put all his force behind marking y/n last night. He wanted to prove to her that he is the best mate she could wish for.

However, right now he doubts this practice. The wound looks bad and his instinct tells him to rub alcohol on it. Katsuki chews on his lips. Maybe he should also let the healer look over this. He's never heard of a case where mate marks get infected. Eventually, Katsuki decides to clean the wound and put a bandage on it. It's against the practice of his tribe, but he puts y/n before tradition. He looked forward to showing y/n around the tribe today and letting everyone see the great mark he left on her. Somehow he doubts that y/n is going anywhere today. Clearly, she needs rest.

Katsuki stays around for a while massaging y/n's feet and legs in an attempt to warm her up. When he's sure that y/n is warming up a bit and that she won't be waking up anytime soon, Katsuki leaves her to slumber. After getting himself some breakfast and catching up with some of his men, he returns to y/n's side. He takes some fruit and bread along with him. Y/n must be hungry after everything that happened yesterday.

When Katsuki enters the tent again, he notices that y/n is still asleep. For a moment, he ponders on whether or not to let her sleep. Eventually, he decides that she can nap later. He puts the food on the nightstand and pours y/n a glass of water. Then, he sits down at y/n's side of the bed. Carefully, he leans over to her. Gently, he strokes some stray hair out of her face and caresses her cheek with his thumb.

„Y/n, wake up.“, he calls out to her softly, „I've brought you breakfast. Don't you want to get up?“

For a moment, y/n doesn't react. However, when Katsuki starts scratching her head lightly, she begins to stir. Katsuki feels oddly relieved upon seeing her gain consciousness again. Y/n stirs and twists uncomfortably in the bed sheets. She turns to her side, away from Katsuki. Katsuki watches her with worried eyes.

The world appears infront of her in a haze. Sight and sound appear distorted to her until everything slowly becomes clearer. Her whole body feels sore and there's a biting pain that shoots up her neck. It takes a moment for her to recall what had happened last night. Then, she remembers. Pleasure. Katsuki. His lips on her neck. Then, his teeth sinking into her.

Y/n bolts up at the memory, almost colliding with Katsuki's head that loomed over her. Katsuki retreats immediately when y/n sits up. Her hand flies to her neck, touching the wound he left behind. Y/n lets out a sharp hiss. It must feel as painful as it looks, he guesses.

„Y/n.“, he says carefully. Something tells him the next few moments will be important for them.

Y/n's head flies around and her eyes meet his. Her eyes widen. Then, she scrambles away from him, to the other side of the bed. She pulls the blanket with her trying to cover herself. He can see how her breathing and heartbeat pick up. This time not in pleasure, but in fear. His heart aches.

„Y/n... what's going on? What did I do?“, he asks her. He tries to sound calm and quiet. He doesn't want to scare her away. When y/n doesn't react, he tries to reach out to her, to touch her cheek softly but y/n roughly pushes his hand away.

„Go... away...“, y/n's voice sounds hoarse. The look in her eyes is blank. Katsuki doesn't understand what she says but he doubts it's a profession of love. He pushes his hand through his hair. Worry overcomes him. This is not how he thought their first day together as mates would be. „Y/n...“, he tries again and reaches out to her.

„Go away!“, y/n yells louder while using her foot to push Katsuki's hand away. Katsuki watches her for a moment. There's something behind her eyes now. Fire? No, spite. Katsuki leans back and sighs. There's a lump forming in his throat and his eyes itch. There's no use talking to her now.

He watches her for another moment, just as she is watching his every move. He guesses she watches him for very different reasons though. She looks at him like prey watches its predator, calculating when the blowing kill comes, when it's the right moment to take flight. Slowly, he gets up. He places the fruit and water next to her.

„Eat.“, he tells her. He's sure that's a word she has picked up. He turns his back to her and looks for some clothes for her to wear. When he found some, he gently places them at the edge of the back. He points at the bathing hut.

„I'll heat up some water for you. To take a bath.“, he tells her.

Then he gets up to leave her be. He sees she doesn't want him around right now. He will leave her for now in hopes that she will calm herself.

~*~*~*~

Finally, he's gone. Y/n relaxes a bit when Katsuki leaves the tent. Her eyes wander to the water Katsuki put in her reach. Greedily, she grabs the cup and chugs down the cool liquid. By now, her head is pounding as is the wound on her neck. She wishes she had a mirror to see how bad it really is.

Y/n leans against the headboard and replays what happened yesterday night in her mind. Everything was fine, more than fine, until Katsuki sunk his teeth into her.

„Gods...“, y/n groans and rubs her face. What on earth was Katsuki thinking? Who does this kind of thing? What is wrong with these people?

She remembers how Katsuki eventually let go of her. There are very vague images of him tucking her in and snuggling into her afterward. Clearly, he did not see anything wrong with what he did. She remembers lying awake for some time. She can't even remember how long she must've laid there. Time was a construct that didn't exist at that very moment. She waited until Katsuki was deep asleep until she slipped out of bed and stumbled into the bathing hut.

She felt like throwing up. She felt the wet blood on her neck and chest. His spill clinging onto the inside of her thighs. She tried washing both of it away but the water was ice cold and her hands were going numb. She remembers sliding down at the side of the tub. Crying. Panicking. Wishing she'd be dead instead of here.

Y/n shivers at the memory. She doesn't want to be dead. Things must've been really bad when those were the thoughts that crossed her mind. She touches the inside of her thighs. His dried spent still clings to her skin. Suddenly, she feels disgusted. Not of herself, but of him. How could he not understand when she told him to stop? No matter the language, when someone screams at the top of their lungs in fear, one must notice it. Was he so drunk on pleasure? She wouldn't put it past him.

Slowly, she tries to get up. Her legs feel wobbly and for a moment she's afraid that they won't hold her weight. Carefully, she stumbles into the bathing hut. The hut is warmer than it was last night. She notices how hot water drips through a pipe into the bathtub. She stumbles closer and lets her hand touch the warm water. After using the chamber pot, she steps into the hot water. She hisses as she sits down. For now, she refrains from using the nice soaps and oils that are placed next to the tub. She doubts it will be good for the wound on her neck. In careful movements, she washes away the grime, blood, and semen from her body. Lastly, she tries to clean the wound. It burns as she dabs a clean cloth against it. Eventually, the pain gets so bad that she gives up cleaning the wound.

After giving her hair a good wash, she steps out of the tub and dries herself off. She puts on the clean clothes Katsuki left behind for her. After looking for some rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages to no avail, she gives up and settles on the bed again. She presses a clean cloth dipped in cool water against the wound on her neck and tries to figure out what to do next.

Somehow she doubts that Katsuki tried to kill her last night. Firstly, if he wanted to kill her, he would've been successful. Y/n cannot take on Katsuki in a fight. Secondly, she doubts that what happened last night happened due to Katsuki's ill intent towards her. Absolutely nothing that happened beforehand, or afterwards for that matter, hints towards Katsuki being cross with her. She saw the worry and hurt in his eyes when she woke up. Which makes what happened yesterday a bigger mystery to her.

Why on earth would you hurt someone so badly while being intimate with them? Katsuki was so soft and loving with her. The way he touched her, the way he made her feel... Y/n quickly shakes her head at that thought. She doesn't want to remember how good he made her feel. Right now she wants to be angry with him. For hurting her like this, for not listening to her. Or at least not noticing her.

She wants to blame him, she really does. But ultimately, everything leads back to her poor decisions. She was angry with him yesterday, for deciding things over her head. And instead of being cautious of him, she jumps into bed with him. Should she really be surprised at how this turned out?

She sighs and dips the cloth into the cool water again. Pressing it against her neck, she slides under the covers again. She pulls them over her head and hopes they would swallow her whole. Take her back to her mother's bed where she hid under the covers when a storm raged outside their tent.

Maybe for a while, she could pretend to be there instead of the place she chose to be in right now.

~*~*~*~

Katsuki is not sure what to do next.

After he poured y/n a hot bath, he's standing outside his tent lost in thought. He tries to come up with something he could do for y/n, to make her feel better. He hasn't got much time to dwell on this question. Soon, his men spot him and drag him back to the war tent where he's forced to listen to a bunch of questions and make a bunch of decisions concerning their tribe. He postpones all raids until the near future. He decides that treating their men and strengthening their numbers is a priority right now. He sends small hunting parties into the mountains and adjacent forests to gather food.

When he's worked through most of his men's concerns, he slumps down onto a seat. He massages his temple. He can already feel a headache starting to form.

„Yo, Bakugo, my man. You ok?“, Kirishima asks him uncertainly.

Katsuki didn't notice that his best friend was still in the room.

„Yeah, I'm fine.“, he grumbles and gets up. Kirishima gives him a look that says I-am-not-so-sure-about-that. Katsuki ignores him and steers towards the exit. He doesn't want to talk to Kirishima right now. Unlucky for him, his friend looks right through him and gets a hold of his arm.

„You know, it's not good for the tribe when his leader is somewhere else with his thoughts whilst making important decisions.“, Kirishima condemns him.

„I'm not somewhere else with my thoughts!“, Katsuki snaps at him and pulls his arms free. Kirishima is quick to block the exit of the tent.

„I get it, dude. There are a lot of heavy decisions to make. If you ask me, so far you're doing good. Some men might not like you restricting our tribe's activity outside our territory, but it's the right thing to do right now.“, Kirishima tries to encourage him.

Katsuki groans and turns away from his friend. He does not want to talk more politics with him.

„Or is this about something else?“, his friend says uncertainly.

Damn this Kirishima, why is he so quick about catching onto things?, Katsuki thinks. When Katsuki doesn't answer him, Kirishima is quick to press on about it.

„Is this about y/n?“, his friend asks. Katsuki rolls his eyes and grabs a cup. He doesn't even know what's in it, but he quickly chugs the liquid down.

„Because we heard you last night. Well done, dude!“, Kirishima grins and pats his arm. Katsuki is quick to push his hand off of him.

„Shut up, Kirishima!“, he barks at him and the red-haired man looks at him stunned.

„So... it's not good then?“, Kirishima guesses.

Katsuki doesn't look at his subordinate. He is weighing his options here. He could tell him and ask for advice. Kirishima seems to be better with the ladies than he is. Even though things between him and his mate aren't ideal either. Then again, Kirishima is a giant blabber mouth and telling him could mean telling the entire tribe. That's the last thing he needs. He takes a deep breath.

„No, it's not good.“, he tells him. Kirishima is quiet for a moment before carefully asking: „Why that? She didn't like it?“

Katsuki scoffs.

„I don't know. I thought she liked it. Until this morning. She looked... disturbed.“, he says getting more quiet at the end of his sentence.

„Why that? Did your enormous dick scare the shit out of her?“, Kirishima grins and Katsuki is quick to hit his friend's arm with his fist.

„It's not funny, Kirishima! This is serious!“, he barks at him. His friend gets quiet and a concerned look on his face.

„Walk me through it. What happened?“, Kirishima asks more solemnly. Katsuki scratches the back of his head.

„Dunno... Yesterday was fine. We enjoyed our time together. I marked her, tucked her in and we went to sleep. This morning, I found her in the bathing hut, all cold 'n shit. The wound on her neck looks fucking bad, dude.“, he tries to explain. He can see how his friend has trouble keeping up with his explanation.

„Alright...“, Kirishima says and ponders about it for a moment, „How bad looks the mark?“

„Inflamed, infected.“, Katsuki tells him.

„My mate's mark also took some time to heal. A lot longer than a mate mark usually takes to heal. Maybe it's because they're outsiders. If it's really bad, let a healer take a look at it.“, Kirishima tells him.

Katsuki snorts. He doesn't want another person to look at y/n's mark. Well he does, but he wants others to look at it in awe. He doesn't want others to know that it's not going the way it's supposed to go.

„Hey“, Kirishima puts a hand on his shoulder, „If it's really infected, this is not something to be taken lightly. An infected wound can be dangerous. Do you really want to put y/n's health on the line just because it would make you look bad?“

Immediately, Katsuki feels bad. He remembers the promise he gave to Drami. He wants to be a good mate and he definitely doesn't want y/n to suffer. He wants her to be happy and healthy. Pushing off his friend's hand, he agrees with him Kirishima flashes him a toothy grin.

„See, she'll be fine. Her mark will heal and things will be alright!“, he tries to cheer up his grumpy friend. Katsuki's facial expression still looks worried. After a moment Katsuki carefully asks him:

„How did she look at you? The day after I mean?“

Kirishima is taken aback at this question. They rarely talk about his mate. It's a touchy subject Katsuki usually knows to avoid. Kirishima sighs and sits down next to his friend.

„I mean... things were different for us. She was chosen for me and... I don't know, I did what had to be done. I don't have to tell you that she didn't exactly... want it.“, Kirishima waves his hand infront of his body.

„All of this. Me. Truth is, she probably despised me the day after. Maybe she still does, I don't know.“, Kirishima's shoulders slump down.

„I do my best. I want to be a good mate to her. But it's hard when the other person doesn't want to be with you.“, Kirishima becomes more quiet at the end.

Katsuki remains silent as well. He doesn't know what to tell his friend. After all, he was the one who chose the woman for his friend. He's the reason why Kirishima is feeling miserable with his mateship.

„But hey,“ Kirishima claps his friend's back, „I'm sure it's different for you two! I've seen the way y/n looks at you! She's smitten with you!“

Katsuki stays silent for a while.

„What if she isn't? She barely could look at me today. And not in the I-am-shy-because-we-just-did-it kind of way. More like she was scared of me. Maybe even resentful.“, he confesses to his friend.

Now it's Kirishima who doesn't know what to say for a moment.

„Are you sure? I mean did you give her any reason to be scared or angry with you?“, Kirishima asks carefully. He knows how explosive and rude his friend can be. Katsuki scoffs.

„I've told you what happened. Everything was fine last night and today she wakes up being all shitty towards me!“, Katsuki barks back. Kirishima takes no offense to his friend's tone. He can see the worry on Katsuki's face. He's sure his friend is just hurting.

„Maybe it's because of the wound. Pain can twist someone's mood. Maybe she blames you for her pain.“, Kirishima says carefully.

„Why would she?!“, Katsuki exclaims. Kirishima looks at his friend for a long while. Is he really this oblivious?

„Because you're the one that hurt her?“, he tells his leader carefully. This shuts Katsuki up for a moment.

„I didn't mean to hurt her“, Katsuki says quietly. Kirishima can see regret forming in his friend's face.

„I just wanted to give her the best mate mark I could give. Something she could be proud of.“, he mumbles under his breath. Kirishima catches onto it. He pats his friend's back understandingly.

„You sure that she got that? She's an outsider, remember.“, Kirishima tells him compassionately. Katsuki's ears perk up.

„Do you think that she thinks I hurt her on purpose?“, Katsuki says and Kirishima shrugs.

„I don't know much about outsider's mating traditions, so I wouldn't take my word for it.“, Kirishima replies.

Kirishima pushes himself up again and he pats his leader's shoulder. „Let's go to the healer's tent. We've got to check up on our injured men anyways and you can ask a healer to take a look at y/n.“, he tells his friend. Katsuki nods and gets up as well.

Internally, he's already making plans on how to make up with y/n. He can't have his mate running around thinking he wants to hurt her.

~*~*~*~

Katsuki returns to their tent after y/n has woken up from her nap. She's just changed the cloth one more time when Katsuki, Kirishima and an older man enter the tent. Immediately, y/n is on high alert. What on earth is Katsuki planning this time? Her eyes immediately dart around the room looking for a suitable weapon. Luckily, there are many to choose from Katsuki's collection. She manages to grab a silver dagger and hides it behind her back, pressing herself against the headboard of the bed.

Katsuki enters the tent first lying eyes upon y/n who presses herself against the back of his bed. There's a wild look in her eyes. He's not sure whether it's fear or anger. Or maybe both. He gestures for the two men to wait by the entrance. Kirishima entangles the healer in a conversation to give Katsuki some kind of privacy.

Katsuki walks closer to y/n and sits down at the edge of the bed. Y/n holds his gaze. She definitely looks angry, Katsuki determines. He moves his hand towards her neck but y/n catches his arm, holding his wrist in a strong grip. Her eyes flicker towards the other two men. She's contemplating threatening Katsuki with the hidden dagger.

„Y/n.“

Her gaze flickers back to Katsuki who is still looking into her eyes. He says something and points towards the wound on her neck. With his other hand, he carefully pulls away the cloth that covers the wound. Upon seeing the wound, his expression sours. At least he feels bad seeing his work, y/n thinks.

Katsuki turns around and says something to the men waiting on the other side of the room. He moves away and y/n relaxes a bit. Katsuki steps away and makes room for the older man he brought along. The man puts down a basket and asks y/n something. Katsuki answers for her. The man keeps his eye locked on the wound on her neck. He doesn't move to touch her. Katsuki tells the man something and the man starts taking out medical supplies out of the basket.

Y/n sees fresh bandages, cloths, a salve and a small bottle with a translucent liquid in it. It's probably alcohol, she thinks. Did Katsuki really bring someone here to treat the very wound he created? She moves away when the healer tries to touch her neck. She doesn't want anybody touching the wound. She notices how Katsuki gets angry at her being unwilling to let this stranger treat her wound. This, in return, makes her angry. She trusted him to touch her and where has this gotten her? Why should she let a stranger touch her? When the man moves to touch her again, she finally pulls the hidden dagger from its hiding place and holds it to the man's neck.

„Don't fucking touch me!“, she hisses at the man. She almost pities the man and his shocked expression. Clearly, the man was here to treat her wounds and not to hurt her further. He means no harm and it's probably unfair that she holds a dagger to his pulse point right now. She's not sure why she does it. Clearly, her wound needs treatment.

„Y/n!“, Katsuki's voice booms through the tent. He's fuming. How can she humiliate him infront of their head healer? Kirishima snickers behind him.

„It's not funny, Kirishima.“, he barks at his friend.

„Wel... it's a little bit funny. Seems like your mate is as thickheaded as you when it comes to getting their wounds treated.“, Kirishima points out.

Meanwhile, the healer doesn't dare to move a muscle. Y/n looks as if she's serious about ramming that dagger in his neck. Kirishima pushes past Katsuki. Carefully, he puts his hand on y/n's and pushes her hand down.

„Now, now, y/n, let's keep this civil.“, he tells her. The healer sighs in relief when y/n lowers her hand.

„I don't want strange men touching me!“, y/n yells even though she knows none of the men will understand her.

Kirishima looks at her with pity and y/n can feel her face become red with shame. She must look like a cornered animal and it makes her sick. Kirishima gestures for Katsuki to follow them outside. The three men leave the tent again. The medical supplies stay on the bed with y/n.

Y/n can feel hot tears burning behind her eyes but she refuses to let them flow. She must already look pitiful enough. Instead, she reaches for the medical supplies. She pours the rubbing alcohol onto a clean cloth. She moves to put it on the wound and hisses when the harsh liquid comes in contact with the inflamed tissue. The pain is blinding. She forces herself to keep her hand in place. The wound must be cleaned. It's probably already too late and an infection is forming, but still. Finally, she can feel tears streaming down her face. The pain is just too much. She pants in paint and starts rocking back and forth in an attempt to distract her from the pain.

Y/n doesn't notice how Katsuki enters the tent again or how he watches her attempting to clean the wound. She also doesn't notice how Katsuki's face contorts in pain as well. Not physical pain, but emotional pain upon seeing his mate so miserable. He hates seeing her like this. It's even worse knowing that he caused this.

Katsuki moves towards her and sits on the bed again. Y/n is so blinded by her pain that she doesn't notice how close Katsuki is. Only when Katsuki touches her wrist, does she jolts back in surprise. Upon seeing Katsuki, she tries to move away from him but Katsuki keeps her locked in place. Her chest rises heavily upon being so close to him again.

„Y/n“, Katsuki says softly, „Just let me take care of you.“

Y/n stares at him in bewilderment but doesn't move away anymore. Katsuki lets go of her wrist and takes the cleaning cloth from her. He pours more alcohol on it and moves towards her neck. Y/n flinches away.

„I know it hurts, love, but we gotta clean it.“, he mumbles and moves towards her neck again.

Y/n's hand flies towards his other hand. She grips it tightly. Her nails dig into the back of his hand. She looks at him pleadingly. Katsuki just shakes his head. In a swift movement, he puts the alcohol-drenched cloth onto the wound again and y/n lets out a howl in pain. She curls forward and Katsuki pulls her against his shoulder. Katsuki dabs the cloth onto the wound cleaning it properly. He can hear y/n cry and convulse in pain and his heart feels heavy. He never meant to hurt her, he just wanted to fulfill his promise and be a good mate.

When he's done cleaning the wound he applies the salve the healer brought along and wraps a clean bandage around her neck. Y/n doesn't make any attempt to push him away or murder him with his own dagger. He places her head back on the pillow when he's done. Y/n looks exhausted and pale. Katsuki touches her forehead. He imagines that she's slightly warm.

He brings y/n another cup of water and forces her to drink it. Y/n only drinks half of it before moving away. Katsuki puts the cup away and keeps looking at her. He doesn't know what to say or to do. It's unlike him. He's the leader. He always knows what to say. But when it comes to y/n everything is so much more complicated. It's like she claws away the surface and lays open the deepest parts of him. Parts he refuses to acknowledge exist. It's unfit for the leader of the dragon blood tribe to be this vulnerable.

„Y/n“, he calls out to her softly. Y/n doesn't meet his eyes. Carefully, he touches her cheek. She doesn't resist this time. She only looks at him with soft, sad eyes. He can see tears shimmering behind them.

„Shit“, he mumbles, „I really screwed up, didn't I?“

He moves his hand from her cheek to her hair and strokes it lightly. Tears spill over and Katsuki doesn't bother wiping hers away. Who is he to console her now? Y/n says something to him. He doesn't need to understand it. Whether it's a question or an accusation, it probably holds the same meaning. You did this to me.

„I only wanted you to be proud to have me as your mate, I swear.“, he mumbles as he keeps stroking her hair. Y/n ferociously wipes her tears away. For a moment, Katsuki wonders what she would do if he pulled her close right now. The next moment, he doesn't care what she would do. May you stab me with that dagger, I don't care.

Katsuki moves to lie down next to her. He's lying on the edge of the bed. He pulls her close burying his nose in her hair. Gently, he keeps stroking her hair and arms. Y/n makes no attempt to move away. Eventually, she turns around and stares into his eyes as if she's looking for something. Katsuki doesn't know what to give her. He keeps holding her until she falls asleep again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

438 notes · View notes

s3thwrit3sstuff · 11 months ago

Text

❝ YOU ALREADY HAVE A PIECE OF MY HEART (WHICH I HAVE NEVER GIVEN TO YOU) ❞

warnings: burn scars, battle scars, grief, derealization, trauma (so much trauma), major character deaths (Satoru, Suguru, Tsumiki, Nanako, Mimiko, Principal Yaga, (Y/N)'s mom), Fushiguro Megumi angst, Junpei mentioned (surprisingly without angst), Itadori Yuji angst (minor), NSFW content for Sukuna's section, implied cannibalism

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: NOT PROOFREAD AT ALL! The formatting is a bit all over the place but these are straight-up taken from Discord chats I had with Elias, pls. I hope they're not too hard to understand. These are all basically "what ifs" and alternate universes + one section for Heian Period Ryomen Sukuna with a (L/N)'s ancestor! " " = means straight-up copy-pasted so I guess they kinda act as a foreword for each drabble

starting off with some HCs of (Y/N)’s high school years!

(Y/N) thinks Satoru must understand the pain of being the next head of the clan, get trained vigorously, and deal with aching bones and sores. Nope! Satoru’s never dealt with that much less dealt with (Y/N)’s father.

Shoko has a dark sense of humour so she laughs at his dark jokes but (Y/N) does notice the three of them end up pampering him more often.

Satoru buys him food most of the time. Drinks and snacks and ice cream, if (Y/N) gazes at something too long Satoru just tosses it into his cart.

Suguru tends to help him stretch or massage him. He’d even fix (Y/N)’s hair, almost motherly in his actions. He makes sure (Y/N) is presentable, makes sure he doesn’t have to worry because; “Su-Su will fix it~”.

Shoko makes sure (Y/N) is always wound-free. From buying antiseptics to burn relief gels (they all have a travel-sized bottle on their person to be fair). She buys him cigarettes when he needs them and always pokes him in his sides or the back of his head, she made it a habit to use RCT on him just in case he’s in pain but can’t feel it.

"You'd come back to me"

"What if Nanami Kento and (Y/N) survived the Shibuya arc?"

Kento stroked your bangs away and then pressed kisses with every compliment he gave. Your chuckles give him this feeling that if you ever told him "please" he'd give up everything just to hear it again. Kento lightly pushes you away but slips a hand underneath you, tugging his (Y/N) closer. “Kennnnnny."

Usually, Kento doesn’t enjoy nicknames but every time you say it, the world seems bright and sweet. So he noses at your jaw and relishes in the giggles.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with so much sincerity.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” Kento grins and presses a searing kiss to your lips.

You are both covered in scars. Nanami’s still pinkish and healing even with the help of socerery and yours still aching and bruised. But nothing about you could be wrong. Because that wasn’t possible. The ring on your hand is cool on his neck as you tilt his head to deepen the kiss. Kento turns and chuckles as you yelp, straddling him now.

“Kento!”

“Yes, my (Y/N)?”

Your eyes soften, and he kisses you again.

"The beach will be more cloudy. We can sit on the porch and I'll make you that milky tea again." He thinks it's a shame the two of you are stuck inside the house. It cannot be helped; his skin was far too sensitive for Malaysia's unapologetic sunny rays and dry heat and although you comfort him by saying your scars are still healing too, he wants nothing more than to pick you up and wash away all the remnants of Shibuya in seawater. "I can make it," he says. "Kento," you press your finger onto his lips, tracing it until you're cupping his face and stroking over his cheekbones. "Let me take care of you." Kento frowns and places his hand over yours, tracing the shape of your healing knuckles and raised scars. "Only if you'll let me do the same, my (Y/N)."

Kento who survived the Shibuya arc is left with a very sensitive wound all over the left side of his body. His hearing is unbalanced and his depth perception is fucked but (Y/N) helps him through all the transitions he goes through.

(Y/N) feels guilty for using his curse technique when it’d been fire that hurt Kento. Who doesn’t use it around Kento or if he does use it, he makes sure the smell is gone and washes his hands, and makes sure Kento can hold him without fear. But Kento doesn’t fear him! Kento figured it out and he just tells (Y/N); “My love, you never need to hide yourself from me…”

Yuji helps Kento with physical therapy. Kento grunts but allows Yuji to hug him when he regains consciousness. Kento who asks Yuji if he’d like to be his ringbearer during their wedding.

(Y/N) who is so nervous to meet Kento’s parents. He knows non-sorcerers and sorcerers don’t have many differences in their daily lives outside of exorcising curses but worries nonetheless. Kento’s mom is bright and jovial, and his father is even more so! (Y/N) is honestly taken aback by how soft-hearted they are and how they thank him for saving Kento. He finds himself loving them so much because they remind him of his mother and how gentle and kind she was.

When he asks for their blessing? He bows but is surprised when Kento’s father blocks his forehead from meeting the floor, blinking away tears when his mother holds his face.

“We’ll gladly take you in as your son, (Y/N),” and they all start crying because (Y/N) is crying, LMAO.

Kento tells (Y/N) he asked for his parent's blessing and he's confused because Kento should never do that - he doesn’t need to ask his father for his blessing but Kento simply says:

“I visited your mom’s grave. I asked for her blessing. I talked to her about how much I love you.”

At their wedding, there are empty seats in the crowd. Seats for their fallen comrades, their loved ones, seats for Tsumiki, Principal Yaga, Yū, Satoru, Suguru, (Y/N)'s mom… (blame Elias for this one)

In regards to (Y/N) seeing Geto Suguru's "body" as he descended into madness: Kento who spots him muttering to himself or staring into space. (Y/N), who after surviving the Shibuya arc, still sees Suguru and now Satoru as well. At times, he even sees Yū, Kento, Megumi, Tsumiki, Yuji, Nobara, Maki, or -His brain constantly makes it hard for him to decipher reality or fiction.

A HC based on Katniss and Peeta: (Y/N) asking Kento, “Real or not real?” when he can't tell reality from fiction.

“You’re alive, real or not real?” “Real.”

“Megumi is still breathing. Real or not real?” “Real, my love. He’s just healing. He’ll wake up soon.”

"...You love me, real or not real?" "Real, my love."

When Fushiguro Megumi wakes up:

When Megumi recovers he cries. Openly cries, sobs, and wails as he begs for forgiveness from everyone around him. (Y/N) literally rushed into the room which made Megumi flinch, yelling at him to stay away because he killed his father (Satoru), his sister, and everyone else Ryomen Sukuna had killed. But (Y/N) just holds him and holds him and holds him. Megumi finds it hard to piece his brain together after what Sukuna has done so Yuji helps. Yuji asks Kento for advice because Megumi and (Y/N) are lowkey in the same boat-ish.

Megumi who begs for forgiveness because Sukuna had done unspeakable things to (Y/N) just to make him his concubine and (Y/N) just comforts his son.

When Megumi is strong enough they go to Suguru and Satoru’s graves. There are no bodies but they buried the things that they treasured. Their wedding ring rests where Satoru would have along with Megumi and Tsumiki’s childhood drawings, pictures, and Suguru’s hairband and button. The flip phone was full of memories and high school photographs - his wedding picture too. He rests beside Geto Suguru, whose grave is filled with his daughter's belongings and the flip phone he kept too, the creased photograph of himself with Satoru, (Y/N) and Shoko. Tsumiki, Nanko and Mimiko are next to their fathers. Megumi cries as his knees give out, his only family left, his dad; (Y/N), just comforts him as much as he can. His precious boy, his beautiful son... They visit as often as they can, telling tales of their days, their weeks, and their months. Soon enough, it will be less painful for them to visit that hill. It'll be scenic and they'll no longer curse at the heavens for all this loss. They'll hate that they're no longer the same person their loved ones had seen, hate the wrinkles and the greying hair and the way they couldn't grow old together. Hate that they've been alive longer than them when they feel like they don't deserve to be. But one day it'll stop and they'll take it as a blessing to grow this old, knowing they'll see their family soon enough with so many stories to tell.

"And isn't it just so pretty to think? All along there was some invisible string, tying to you me?"

"You know - in every universe, Satoru falls in love with Suguru and (Y/N). In a few universes, their love is not tragic. In this special few, Satoru does not use (Y/N) for honor. Suguru comes back after his betrayal,l and (Y/N) and Kento defend his rights as a human. Satoru has (Y/N) help him with Suguru’s rehabilitation, and Kento helps Suguru with his clashing ideology. In the special few, Megumi is still beloved by YN but he doesn’t fear betrayal, and love just needs love to be perfect. Uncle (Y/N) cherishes Tsumiki and Megumi and Uncle Kento who teaches them how to be kind and responsible. Mimiko and Nanako learn how to befriend Tsumiki and Megumi!”

(Y/N) would've become a teacher like Satoru! Kento sends him to and from. He pouted so much when Kento knew Yuji was alive but forgave him. (Y/N) invited Yuji to eat homemade lunch and dinners in their home, and Yuji pretended not to feel himself tremble; a homemade meal was eaten around a dining table.

Yuji, who never had such an experience before; and who craves familial bonds; can’t stop shoveling food in his mouth because he keeps grinning too hard -

And when Junpei is brought back alive? (Y/N) takes to him like a moth to a flame. He volunteers to help Junpei, to house him, and bares his teeth at the higher-ups who dare take the boy from him.

Junpei wakes up to Kento cooking breakfast and (Y/N) who makes tea. Junpei gasps as (Y/N) opens up a movie and invites him to watch with him. Junpei relishes Kento’s words of advice for his newfound curse technique.

Junpei cries into the pillows and gets surprised when (Y/N) comforts him, telling him he misses his mother too, and lets (Y/N) hug him.

Junpei stares at himself in the mirror when Shoko heals his cigarette scars, brushing back his bangs confidently for the first time.

Junpei who bonds with Megumi about having shikigamis! Who Nobara (affectionately) bullies and toughens up! Maki is reminded of Yuta every time, and Inumaki chuckles at her face. Panda just loves being his senpai but keeps pushing Junpei away from him when Junpei tries to touch his fur -

Satoru and Suguru come over with Mimiko, Nanako, Tsumiki, and Megumi to their home. Yuji and Junpei picked out the movie (it’s obviously Human Earthworm - all 4 movies). The Gojo-Geto’s brought snacks and drinks, and the Nanami’s made their home so cozy and warm.

"Tell me you belong to me"

Heian Era Sukuna and the ancestor of the (L/N) clan, his only male concubine which he adored so much it caused his unending.

As a foreword (just a fan theory I adored not canon at all): "The theory that Sukuna keeps CTs within his Malovent Shrine (hence, in my fic, it’s why the (L/N) clan never flourished. Sukuna took their innate technique and left them with a CT so strong none of them had enough will-power to master). It’s not confirmed but in the Jogo fight, he says “open” and all of a sudden he can use a flame CT???" "This is basically an AU of (Y/N)'s ancestor, lmao."

They sacrificed (Y/N) to Ryomen Sukuna and gave him their prince who came to him with a sharp glare and dirtied with bruises and cuts.

“You wrap my gift so carelessly?” Sukuna drawls out.

(Y/N) is bound and gagged. His hair must have been in an impressed top knot, now a mess that spills from his shoulders.

Uruame shifts next to him and they grip (Y/N)'s cheeks to inspect him.

What a beautiful man, they think with mild surprise, it was no wonder he was chosen as a sacrifice.

But, Sukuna wants him. So, he adds his first male concubine to his harem. (Y/N) is scrubbed clean, dressed to the nines, and made to look like a doll. His face was painted, his hair brushed, his nails trimmed, and his skin moisturized.

Ryomen Sukuna is a monster with a picky tongue. Despite his greed, he only eats refined meats and fights the strongest sorcerers.

Sukuna doesn’t “love” his concubine but he favors him. That much, (Y/N) can tell. When he plays the biwa or recites sutras and haikus, Sukuna is ever so attentive. When (Y/N) bows and sits next to Lord Sukuna to feed him his meals, he finds those big hands holding him in one way or another.

When he takes (Y/N) as a “woman”, he is not gentle. Uruame is the one to prepare him. They provided him with oils and aromatic smoke to ease him, not out of the kindness of their hearts but for their Lord’s pleasure. (Y/N) swears he nearly rips taking his size but Sukuna spreads his legs and pushes in deeper and (Y/N) gasps, his tears like diamonds as he pleads for his Lord to grant him mercy.

Sukuna does. It surprises himself. But he does.

Maybe Sukuna will never understand the word love because he tells himself he’s never loved. Or maybe, he confuses it with ownership and cruelty - because it’s obvious he loves (Y/N).

He’s unfair to all but him.

He is still the King of Curses, a cruel tyrant, but (Y/N) is someone who calms his wrath with ease.

When they made that Binding Vow for (Y/N)'s curse technique to be given to Sukuna in exchange for Sukuna not being able to kill off his clan. He had thought to give YN another curse technique. But then, after (Y/N) learns Sukuna murdered a huge chunk of his clan, (Y/N) plans for his betrayal.

(Y/N) seeing the shock on Sukuna’s face as he gets sealed away, feeling the God's disdain weigh on his bones as he breaks the Binding Vow - he weeps for Sukuna despite knowing how horrible he is.

(Y/N) marries and his bloodline continues on, but there’s this terrible desire to be loved. It persists in every one of them. This ache that the King of Curses had left. This magnetism that power holds over the (L/N) clan.

In another universe, where (Y/N) finds no love in Satoru nor Kento, but Sukuna?

How delighted would the King of Curses be to see his concubine so willing for him? The King of Curses would have a harem of women. But the one man? Oh, he’s beloved. His room is closest to Sukuna’s, his appetite always filled and his bookshelves overflowing. Uruame enjoys his presence, tending to him personally and making him food as well.

(Y/N) who takes a liking to human flesh. Who finds himself ignoring the screams of tortured men and women, and only curls his nose in distaste when Sukuna wants to consume “soft” flesh.

Who grins so serenely in his King’s lap, who can’t decide which mouth he prefers on him or which hand is his favourite. Sukuna loves to be fed by (Y/N) and does the same to him.

Who learns how to please Sukuna’s cocks all by himself. Who has servants prep him open only to be killed right after - but what a privilege they had, to have Sukuna’s concubine mewl around their fingers.

Sukuna loves watching him ride, loves seeing the bulge in his stomach, the twinge of pain on his face. He loves sticking his tongue out (the one on his stomach) to lick at (Y/N)’s cock and (Y/N) yelps every time.

At times, you’ll find his precious concubine so stunning after a night of pleasure you’d stare. Each time, Uruame is there to gauge their eyes out.

Their master's toy is his alone after all.

"What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes"

polycule of satosugu x yn!

Satoru thinks he’s selfish. He knows that marrying (Y/N) fulfills duty and honour but in doing so it would be cruel for the boy. On the other hand, marrying Suguru was completely out of the realm of possibilities no matter how hard he insists.

His personal feelings about them both confuse him too.

Satoru loves Suguru. Satoru loves (Y/N).

You could imagine the relief 16-year-old Gojo Satoru felt when (Y/N) blushed at Suguru’s soft-spoken voice or when Suguru caught himself staring at (Y/N)’s lips for too long in a conversation.

In this AU - Satoru never dated Suguru, he instead gathered the two of you and just announced his feelings.

It was choppy waters to navigate through, among the political aspects of a marriage and teenage emotions and deadly missions.

But the three of you made it work. This relationship was among three men who fulfilled honour, duty, and love. Who only needed each other to feel filled.

A polyamorous marriage wasn’t taboo, it was just outdated, still with Gojo Satoru and Gojo (Y/N) both insisting that Geto Suguru would be their husband after Satoru became the head of the Gojo clan. It wasn’t as though they could be refused now.

In this AU, Suguru would not betray his husbands though not without thinking of it. He simply tightened his hold on the rings before he brought the twins back home and his heart softened as he saw them tend to the girls.

What a rowdy household. The children are so loved that they cannot fathom love doesn’t exist.

Satoru who will sigh and embrace his husbands out of the blue.

“You’re beautiful,” he’ll tell (Y/N) as he cups his face while the poor man is simply reading some document at the dining table. “Our husband is beautiful, Suguru!”

Suguru immediately gets drowsy whenever your fingers thread through his hair, and chuckles when you trace his features as he’s about to wake.

Gods, seeing you and Satoru hold onto your children’s hands as all of you walk together in a park makes thoughts of those dark summers dissipate into nothing.

Satoru sleeps in the center of your California king-sized bed. He simply refuses any other spot.

The Tokyo School has its hands full of the Gojo’s. From the husbands to their 3 children with rambunctious abilities.

When Tsumiki got cursed...it was an emotional day for everyone. Suguru swore he’d do anything to break it while Nanako and Mimiko yelled and yelled, Megumi just sobbing into your chest.

The girls visit her often, talking to her as they fix her hair and ensure she’s comfortable. Megumi appreciates their care as he silently stares from the corner.

Oh, breakfasts are always bustling.

The children are spoiled just as much as Satoru’s husbands are.

What a terrifying trio you are - abilities powerful beyond the curve!

Shoko always takes a few shots before heading over to celebrate holiday dinners, lmao.

She understands that you three enjoy asking about her love life though all three of you were made to kneel in apology as she glared after Satoru and you “accidentally” found the woman she’d been seeing.

Suguru rolls his eyes every time Satoru and you stroke the dragon spirit's snout or compliment the spear-wielding spirit.

While they bring burn-relief medication for you, Satoru and you ensure to bring snacks to wash away the foul taste of curses for Suguru and Suguru and you always have extra blindfolds and painkillers for Satoru.

Yuta grew flustered as he found out the three of you were together. He had honestly thought Suguru was cheating on Satoru with you but Maki’s scoff of “disgust” and her brief explanation made his face bloom into fifty shades of red.

Yuji would honestly not care - he’d be surprised at first but bounce back rather quickly (although Ryomen Sukuna would certainly have his comments).

ANGST TIME!

The Shibuya arc would be very different of course, though wouldn’t it just be delightful if Kenjaku managed to grab (Y/N) and force his husband to see Ryomen Sukuna not only take over their son’s body but see their husband get claimed by another?

Delicious angst, me thinks.

"But I just wanna stop right next to you, if I could my dream? I just wanna stop right next to you."

polygamous marriage (?) of Satosugu and kentoYN!

In this AU, (Y/N) and Satoru would feel so guilty for letting their eyes wander to their significant future husbands.

It’s not as though they don’t love each other but there’s this societal norm of monogamy and despite never getting physical with Suguru/Kento the emotional aspect still makes them feel like they’re doing something dirty.

It wasn’t fair to anyone.

Shoko dryly mumbling about polygamy had Satoru and you instantly perking up.

You loved Suguru and Satoru liked Kento - but neither of them wanted to be in a relationship with each other. So this arrangement of Satoru’s boyfriend and (Y/N)’s boyfriend honestly worked. It was confusing at first but it worked.

When Satoru married Suguru and you married Kento, it was a joyous event. A double wedding!

A rowdy household once again, Satoru insisted on living on the same land just with multiple “sections”. Even if this was a polycule, I’d imagine solitude from one another is still appreciated after all. The house was built from the ground up and it was a labour of love to ensure all four of you (and your kids) would have their own slice of heaven.

Kento adores you, the rings on your fingers, and the home you share.

Satoru adores you as well, never once making you feel as though this is a competition.

Both Satoru and you are fair to each other and your respective husbands. Never favouring the other or anything that would make them feel like a “glorified side chick.”

The kids aren’t confused at all.

Although they did have to adjust to call which father what.

They settled with Dad (you), Papa (Suguru), Pa (Kento), and Father (Satoru - only to annoy him.) Sometimes the four of you will have to play it by ear since they just use “daddd!” interchangeably.

Shoko still takes shots before she heads over to go to holiday dinners.

The students are also not confused. Yuta got a bit flustered but Suguru just informed him about it and Yuta felt less anxious - he genuinely thought Satoru was cheating on (Y/N) when he walked in on Satoru and Suguru making out in an empty classroom.

You’d honestly just giggle at Yuta’s face when he told you this which made him more confused while Suguru gave him the mercy to pat his head.

Yuji would think it’d be so cool that such a dynamic worked.

Nanako and Mimiko as Tokyo High students make my heart soar - Megumi has his older sisters tease him relentlessly whenever their schedules overlap (they always do).

#s3thwrit3sstuff #gojo satoru x male reader #geto suguru x male reader #nanami kento x male reader #ryomen sukuna x male reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader

831 notes · View notes

auspicioustidings · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober Day 13

Moniker: Ghost, Mace Risk Level: Low-Medium. Both are permanent residents of the Kennel. Brief: Pussy gaping, DVP, fisting, degradation Safeword: Refer to first brief.

Ghost will not ignore a safeword and Mace will not defy Ghost. Fair warning they’re both big men, the stretch will be a lot but they’re both experienced so they’re not going to do permanent damage - Price

This is going to feel incredible, promise (don’t clench)- Soap

“Loosen up slut.”

Mace punctuated his order with the heavy thud of him using his cock to slap your thigh. He was a terrifying man, huge and impatient. You had been barked at to strip when you came in and you had done so even while your head spun at seeing two naked men.

Both were heavily scarred, but while the silvery scars on Ghost’s face and body were clearly from abuse, Mace had them in patterns of raised bumps as decoration. They extended on him to his heavy cock and you couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been to nick the skin there, to heal into scarring when the skin needed to stretch.

They were both terrifyingly big men right down to the heavy weight between their legs. Taking one of them would already cause you to gape, taking them both surely could not be possible.

Already you felt stretched to the limit with Mace’s four fingers inside of you. He kept spreading them out and you could barely breathe. While you were spread open on the bed with him kneeling up between your legs, Ghost was stood by the bedside watching quietly, his judging eyes on you as he lazily pumped his cock.

“Your mutt did a half decent job Ghostie, she creams up real quick” Mace said to Ghost, pulling his fingers out abruptly to show him which caused your poor cunt to spasm around the sudden emptiness he had just left behind.

“Why do y’think I pushed for him to have a go at her first? Never met a doll Johnny couldn’t turn into a whore given a couple of hours.”

You were just trying to gulp in breaths, knowing he wouldn’t give you a break for long. Mace was pushing so quickly, those four fingers had been worked up to far too fast so your body was always just on the edge of tearing. The stretch was always intense enough that all your brain could do was focus all of it’s attention on the invasion and try to withstand it.

When he pushed his fingers back in he pumped them fast, impatiently, up to the third knuckle. You squealed like a stuck pig when he started to twist his hand back and forth to get his thumb in and he laughed while Ghost bent over to get in your face.

“That’s a cute little noise, but I didn’t fucking ask. You squeal again without permission and I’ll gag you.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip so hard it hurt and nodded at him in submission, all of your focus on him instead of Mace because you were sure if you actually saw his fist start to sink inside of you, your body would realise what was happening and you’d black out.

Ghost held your eyes, fully aware that it’s what you needed. You were so different from Johnny, but so alike in some ways. He needed this too. Anytime him and Mace played with him together his boy would need to stare at Ghost, need the reassurance that he had his full and undivided attention even as he was being obscenely opened up by Mace. A nice, wide open cunt was a pretty sight, but even sweeter was the eyes of the person trusting him and his to be the ones stretching it at their pleasure.

It was so tempting as the squelching sound of fist in pussy rang in the air to slip his cock past your pretty lips, stretch them out too and watch as you broke into someone that knew they only breathed at his say so and thanked him for it. But no, Price had been very insistent on this whole sticking to the brief thing so he’d follow orders. For now at least, Johnny seemed to be very fond of you and anything his pup wanted, he got. If it came down to it, Ghost would ignore any protests or safewords to serve you to Johnny on a platter.

“You can scream for this next part” he said like he was indulging you.

You furrowed your brows, looking up at him in innocent distress. Oh you would look so lovely ruined he thought.

It took a moment for you to process what was happening. Something hot and pointed was pushing in alongside Mace’s fist. Oh God. Oh God. He was pushing his cock inside you without taking his fist out.

You screamed alright. You screamed and tried to shove back and away, tried to sit up and batter your fists against Mace to get him to stop. He laughed at your attempts because he was no stranger to a feisty bitch, that’s why he had Ghost here to roughly pin you down with a hand to your chest and land the other sharp on your pussy in warning.

“There’s a good cocksleeve, won’t ever tighten up when we’re done with you sweet thing. Won’t be able to feel nothing at all unless you’re stuffed full of fists in that loose cunt.”

He started to thrust his cock up inside you, his fist punching at the same time. He was going to shake your fucking organs loose. He was going to rip your apart. There was nothing but the stretch, nothing but being stuffed so overfull that you were ready to burst open.

“T-too much! Please” you tried to yell, only managing breathless, gasping words.

“Hm, seems to think you’re not doing it right Mace.”

“Yeah? Any suggestions?”

“Got one” Ghost replied, obviously in on a joke you weren’t.

Mace kept his cock deep inside you, wrapped his fist around it and pumped once and then ripped his soaked fist out. His big arms wrapped tight around you and rolled you over, him now driving up into you from underneath. It was dizzying how fast the angle had changed and there wasn’t a moment to adjust, you just had to claw at his shoulders and try survive.

“Slow down” you panted as he hammered into you.

You had thought now his fist was gone it wouldn’t be so insane a feeling, wouldn’t be completely scrambling your brain, but your cunt still felt too tight for the throbbing, scarred, monster of a cock inside of it. It was hardly the break you thought it would be, but he stilled within you and you could have wept with the relief.

Stupid to think it was for your benefit.

“Say ah” Ghost said and you realised too late that you had taken your eyes off of him while you were being manhandled into a new position and he was now kneeling on the bed behind you.

There was no going slow, no easing into it. He pushed his cock in above Mace’s all the way to his balls in one motion.

“Too full, fuck, too full, oh my God, please, please I can’t” you babbled incoherently, driven entirely insane.

“Quit your bitchin’, sluts don’t get to say I can’t. Open up nice and wide and fucking take us” Mace said, mocking.

“Jesus she’s strangling me.”

“Play with her clit, she’ll loosen up.”

Ghost reached around, was rough in how he almost lifted you up a little so he could wriggle his hand past your stomach and between your legs to pinch hard at your clit. You yelped and he pinched harder.

“What did I say about needing permission for your bitchin’?”

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, please just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t- I need- please I need to cum, everything is too tight” you begged.

You needed to cum. You needed to have your muscles clench and then just relax. You were so fucking full and something had to give. Either you came or you were sure you would just unravel, burst apart into viscera on the bed between them.

“Aww she begs almost as pretty as your mutt Ghostie” Mace cooed.

You wanted to comment, but the air was knocked from your lungs when Ghost thrust hard as Mace did, no longer keeping a rhythm where only one was balls deep at a time but instead now keeping pace with one another. You were writhing between them, or at least trying to but unable to really go anywhere sandwiched two massive bodies as hard and heavy cocks slammed into you again and again.

Ghost’s clever fingers were lethal on your clit, knowing when to rub gentle as a whisper and pinch rough as a scream. Your body fought against the rising tide, knowing the consequence of giving in was you tightening around them. If you tightened anymore your cunt would snap like an elastic band you thought, but it felt impossible that you could keep going if it didn't.

“Let her squeal” Mace said with a growled laugh.

“You’re going soft Mace, but fine. You can bark bitch, let everyone in the Kennel know who your owners are.”

It was not a loud scream, you couldn’t breathe enough for that. Instead you sounded like a dying creature when you came and your cunt bore down on their cocks. It was a keening death knell as your body finally gave in and went slack between them, went loose and plaint so they could have their way with it.

“Want to feel you pulse big man, cum on my cock” Mace said, like you weren’t the one being fucked here.

“Brat” Ghost replied, but never the less he repositioned himself so he could hit the exact right angle he wanted as he chased his orgasm.

You felt him cum, felt his cock twitch against Mace’s inside you as he made a fucking mess of you. It was disgusting when he pulled out, his cock dragging cum with it while the rest was thoroughly coating Mace’s still inside your cunt.

“Oh that’s a pretty sight” Ghost said, hooking two fingers in your cunt and tugging up.

You felt the stretch, felt the hollow space he made above Mace’s cock. Oh God you were gaping open around it when he tugged like that to keep you from tightening back up.

“She’ll not stay loose forever.”

“Hold her open would you?”

You weren’t sure what exactly Mace meant by that, you felt pretty fucking open already and every scrape of those scars on your walls was making you think you might never be the same after this.

More manhandling without any warning. Ghost picked you up unceremoniously off of Mace’s cock and it was so much worse than when Mace had taken his fist out. Your poor cunt was fluttering violently, not sure what shape it was supposed to be anymore without anything inside of it.

You were settled on your ass between Ghost’s legs, you back to his and Mace grabbed your ankles to get them spread. Ghost hooked two fingers from each hand into your hole, pulling and pulling as he added more fingers. You were sure Mace must be able to see inside of you.

He started stroking himself and you made a noise of protest when you realised he was aiming for the gaping hole presented to him. It was so humiliating and yet as he groaned and spurt after spurt splattered against your insides you couldn’t help a whine escaping that wasn’t entirely negative.

“Make her cum again, want to see her insides twitch.”

“Careful, you don’t order me around Mace.”

“Make her cum, please sir?”

Ghost snorted at Mace’s saccharine tone but rearranged his hands anyway so he could brush against your clit with his thumb. That was all it took. Your cunt desperately tried to clench shut but he was solid, pulling when you were clenching to keep you wide open for Mace’s viewing pleasure.

“You’re a mess. Fucking slut, all that cum just sloshing around in there. I can see it dripping” he groaned.

There was a sudden glint in his eye that scared the shit out of you, but you were so exhausted that you didn’t try to move. Your eyes started to drift shut as Ghost pressed a kiss to your cheek. You had done it, it was unreal but you had taken both of them. And yeah maybe Johnny was right, it was sort of incredible.

Fuck you just felt tired and aching. Thank God for Price, making sure you were cleaned, dried, cuddled and laid in a wonderfully cosy bed to sleep.

#mhairi'skinktober

295 notes · View notes

glowyskinsecrets · 2 years ago

Text

How to Heal Skin from Picking Face too Much

Wounds and scars on the face can greatly affect your self-esteem. Picking your face too much is usually the culprit so it’s advisable to solve the problem first through stress management and also preventing acne. Fortunately, there are various ways of treating wounds and scars that result from picking the face. You can do it by using treatments such as ceramides and niacinamides, but whatever…

View On WordPress

#dermatillomania #dermefface FX7 face cream #facial skin-care products #gentle cleanser for face #how to heal acne scars #how to heal scars #how to heal scars on face #mole removal before and after #scar reduction serum #skin protectants #skin treatment cream #skin-picking wounds #skin-picking wounds and scars #what causes acne

0 notes

pursuitseternal · 4 months ago

Note

Congrats on 1500 followers! Can I please play your Smut Ask game? Please? 👉👈 🫣

19. “You’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “I’m all yours.”

Ft. Astarion x Reader

“I’m all yours…”

Act 3 Astarion x Reader

CW: tooth rotting fluff, mating press, creampie

No more Underdark, no more Shadow Curse…

Sunlight once more on your skin, and Astarion couldn’t bring himself to leave it. Rivington was loud and crowded, but you don’t care. Not when you can see him smiling again now that you managed your way through the darkness of Reithwith. Back in the City….

Back into the sun.

It took some convincing, but Gale finally agreed to let you and your love take an afternoon to lose yourselves in the light.

Just a picnic, you had offered to Astarion. Well, a basket of food for you, a scroll of lesser restoration, and your neck for him.

Away from the crowds and eyes now, you spread your blanket on the grassy hill. The sun at its zenith, you can feel it tingling and burning your skin.

But Astarion craves that, you realize, as he pulls off his cream, ruffled shirt and lays at your feet in naught but his leathers. You scan him, shaking your head. That smirk on his face already tells you it won’t be long before those warm brown trousers are set aside too. He picks up the scroll to heal you and giggles. “Somebody planned for some extensive aftercare,” his smirk deepens.

You just give him a knowing smile, flounce your skirts, and settle on the blanket beside him. His fingers tease the pale pink ruffles in the hem of it. “I didn’t think you would ever wear something so… delicate. I almost don’t recognize you without a shiny, metal can on your body.” His crimson eyes rake over your form, noticeably lingering on the skin that shows— your legs beneath your skirt, your forearms that dart from the short frilled sleeves, and your bosom that bursts out the top of your bodice. “…almost,” he breathes, eyes settling on the marks that have grown on the side of your neck.

One arm extends towards you. Your heart in your throat, and down you go, already laying alongside of him, sprawling in the sun and cradled by his arm. His cool breath wafts over your neck as he nuzzles your bite scars. “I only need a taste, I swear…” comes the age old request, his little ritual of asking each time, even if the answer is always the affirmative, whispered like a prayer from your lips.

His fangs sink in slowly, his skin warmed all over by the heat and radiation of the sun. You know, as your blood runs and courses through both your bodies, you know he actually feels alive.

He wants to live, and now, he feels like it—the bloom of life within from your blood, the blazing light of the sun on his pale skin.

It doesn’t take much to coax him, just a sweep of your hand across his lower back, and he’s on top of you, sucking loudly in your ear. That ruinous body of his slots between your thighs, and now you realize just why he had teased you so often to wear a dress for once.

His lips drink you down, but his hands, those cool, featherlight hands skate up your outer thighs. The whisper thin fabric of your skirt ghosts up more and more… until he’s rucked it up around your waist.

His voice tickles your ear as he moans into your neck. “Oh… darling, I can already feel how wet you are. All this… just for me?” Fingers tease your panties, right where your dampness gathers. “Such a display of carnal lust, you wanton minx. All this is mine… you’re all mine…”

“Hmm?” You pull yourself out of your hazy cocoon of bliss and warmth, your body growing warmer and more aroused by your lover’s weight and the sun’s heat.

“Say it,” he orders, punctuating his command with a roll of his hips into your mound, even as his fingers press that damp gusset of your underthings to catch you clit.

You loll your head back to center, opening your half-lidded eyes to look up at him. Sunlight glows like a halo around his silken, silver hair, making it hard to see anything of his face than the gleaming crimson of his eyes. Your answer bubbles to your tongue as you lift your hips. “I’m yours, all yours,” you breathe.

“If that doesn’t just warm my undead heart,” he purrs. “How about a treat for my treat… it is a summer picnic after all…”

His mouth presses sweetly and softly against your lips. Wet and insistent, his tongue presses between your lips, and you let him in. He squishes your breasts as he shifts his weight, his hands hurrying to free his cock as he just lowers his leathers enough. That warmed, blunt cock head teases your entrance, your panties barely a barrier between you; and it’s one he so easily conquers with a slight tug of his finger.

“There we go,” he purrs as inch by inch he fills you. He’s slow and tender, working inside you with gentle rolls of his hips. All is warm and heavy, full and undulating. His mouth is locked to yours, his cock buried deep in your sex. And you have to keep your eyes closed, the light of the sun almost as blinding as how brightly he burns for you.

Drowning in the rhythm of his fucking, you are swept further into your bliss with every roll of his hips. His cock, thick and perfect, drags across every inch of your cunt, catching those places that make your spine arch and your belly coil with heat. Hot within, hot without. He presses his heavy frame into you, driving you into the blanket and dirt. He groans in your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood still strong on his tongue. Wave after consuming wave, his thrusts snap against you, that addictive flesh-slapping sound muffled by your simple skirts. He grins, lifting your thighs to press them to your chest. Your cunt bare to the light and revealed to the sun, now his thrusts echo in your ear and down your spine.

He floods you with pleasure, all your skin exposed for his touch. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing against your flesh ragged. He’s near, so near… just a little more and you know he will tingle with pleasure in his balls and warm with bliss from the inside out.

A roar in your ear, and he fills you, coating you with cum deep inside your cunt. It’s enough to make you tremble and cling, to buck and writhe as your match him in his climax.

Hot all over. And just as loved.

Your hands trace the scars on his back, thier rises and ridges familiar by heart. But for now, his skin’s heat matches the afterglow of that slow-rolling passionate love making.

He’s warm and sweet, mischievous and cunning…. And he’s all yours.

Smut Ask List | Astarion Masterlist

#astarion smut #ask pursuits #astarion fic #astarion x reader #reader x astarion #smut asks #ask box #astarion spawn #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 smut

317 notes · View notes

inkedinshadows · 2 months ago

Text

Azriel headcanons

Since I'm working on too many fics and not finishing even one, here's a list of random headcanons I have about our favorite shadowsinger. Seriously, they're very random.

I have so many more, but I didn't want this to be too long lol. Let me know if I should write more of them.

If it weren't for his scars that make it impossible for him (it'd probably be really uncomfortable), Azriel would wear rings. And I mean a lot of them, on both hands. Very slutty of him if you ask me. This is how I imagine it to look like:

And necklaces as well. Like silver little chains and similar.

Azriel is 100% a cat person. I don't think I need to say more, we can all agree on this, right?

The shadowsinger can sing, we all know that. But my current obsession is him playing the piano. He probably learned while healing his hands when he was a child because it helped with coordination. He's really good at it, but he doesn't play in front of people. Only for you. (I wrote a fic about this: Play It For Me)

He has a very neat handwriting. Again, he had to practice a lot after his hands were burned to use them properly again. I picture something like this:

He's the kind of "monster" that eats pizza with a knife and fork instead of just cutting slices and using his hands (I'm Italian, I'm allowed to say this). He would also always stick to the same pizza, never changing the topping too much (relatable). He'd probably keep it simple, with mozzarella, black olives, and maybe anchovies if he feels extra.

Since we're talking food, if you are out on a date or just eating at a restaurant or whatever and you order something you end up not liking, he's swapping your dishes and giving you his. If you do like it but you also like his a lot, then he asks you if you want to share and eat half of each.

He's not a cocktail guy. Here as well, he likes to keep it simple: whiskey, brandy, wine if he's eating, and beer if he's hanging out with Cassian. If he does drink a cocktail, his go-to choices are Black Russian, gin and tonic, Old Fashioned, Manhattan, and Negroni (which might be an Italian cocktail, I'm not sure).

Oh, and he loves coffee. Black, no sugar, no cream. Mostly espresso, but also full mugs of it, especially in the morning.

Azriel loves turtleneck sweaters. Leather jackets are another favorite. When he's out, he mostly wears black or dark jeans, but at home? Sweatpants. Those infamous grey sweatpants we all love. Again, very slutty. He bought them without thinking too much about it, but once he saw your reaction to him wearing them, they became his favorite piece of clothing out of everything he had ever owned.

On the topic of clothing, we know he mostly wears black, but we also know he loves Winter Solstice. He could be easily convinced to wear one of those ugly Christmas sweaters, especially if you bat your eyelashes at him. He can never say no when you give him doe eyes. He'll complain about it, but he secretly loves it, even more so if you're wearing a matching one. The first three are nice and simple and cute, the other two if you want to embarrass him a little (but he still wouldn't say no):

Same goes for Halloween. Couple costumes? He's down. Would he admit he likes it? Probably not. Would he refuse to do it until you're begging him to, just so he can see your cute pout? Absolutely. And of course, he lets you do his make-up.

He smokes. Not much, just 2/3 cigarettes throughout the day, but it can be more if he's stressed or nervous. (Just imagine the hand in the first picture with a cigarette, it's just the perfect position already. I don't smoke and I can't even stand the smell, but I would honestly let Azriel blow the smoke in my face fr)

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @andreperez11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel headcanons #acotar headcanons #acotar #sjm #headcanon

373 notes · View notes

atimesfeeler · 20 days ago

Text

Love the idea that Wade is sensitive to food, but the more I think about it, the more I think he probably consumes an insane amount of food and doesn't care about how it tastes.

He has scar tissue everywhere, probably including his tongue. So he wouldn't be able to taste very well. He'd likely pour ungodly amounts of hot sauce just to feel something.

And his regeneration factor is constantly healing him, which, no doubt, would take a lot of fuel. If his limbs are growing back, his healing factor will speed up if he inhales food. His body probably breaks down food at a much faster pace than normal, so his stomach is empty even though he just had a meal two or three hours ago. He's almost starving all the time, and he'll joke about it and nobody bats an eye because they just ate and Wade ate enough to feed a horse, so he must be joking.

Logan probably has sped up food break down too, but it's much slower. He's not constantly fighting cancer, so he can put on a little weight and store food, especially since moving in with Wade. Logan cooks a lot of food once he sees how much Wade eats, and often he'll find Wade sneaking into the kitchen for a snack in between every meal. It's a bad habit for a normal person, and Wade is a bad influence offering a bowl of ice cream to Logan every time he catches him eating mint ice cream straight out of the carton.

Logan gets a little insecure about it because why does he look like a grizzly bear when Wade looks like he's severely dehydrated (he is) and lean as he's ever been. But Wade of course loves it, loves how much food they're eating, loves almost not starving, and that Logan doesn't get on him about eating too much because it's comfortable and cozy, and what's life for if not to enjoy food and relax a little? Also, grizzly bears are sexy.

Wade would make going on a diet an absolutely impossible task for Logan, though. He's terrible. Especially because Logan likes cooking for Wade once he realizes that Wade is almost starving all the time.

#poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool

207 notes · View notes

drgnflyteabox · 1 month ago

Text

red ochre [2]

series masterlist previous || part two -> woad and weld || part three -> tbd

pairing: viking goap x fem! nun reader summary: you recover from the boat, and wonder why you were taken w.c: 3.9k tags/warnings: pain, caretaking, food, stomach issues, threats, mean simon, fears of rape (doesn't happen), viking-typical slavery, unwanted cuddling / massage / touching, alcohol, scars, violence, hunting, laswell hello!, reader has some puritanical attitudes / assumptions but she was a nun so, power imbalance, dubcon comfort, crying, religious themes (dldr)

You're a stone sunk to the bottom of the ocean, pulled under by exhaustion and turmoil. It's the sleep of the dead, dreamless and unreachable.

Vaguely, in moments of semi-consciousness, you hear voices and feel softness against your skin, warmth all around you. The brush of fingers against your cheeks.

When you do wake, it's like crossing between different worlds, with a head full of cotton and fog. Your sense of smell comes alive before anything else, the smell of food permeating the air around you.

Fish. Cream. Something herbaceous, something earthy. A fire crackles closeby, warming the air, warming you. You can feel fur touching your arms and legs, draped over you and flat underneath you.

It only serves to soften to blow of pain, overwhelming pain. True awareness comes then, waking you with a gasp that alerts-

"Did she just-"

"Sh!" Simon's voice, coming closer. "You awake?" his face comes into view above - you only recognize him by voice.

He's scarred, big and small, but the most eye-catching one bisects his face, splitting it into two from his cheekbone to his jaw on the other side. It's deep, raised, angry even if you can tell it's healed.

You scream.

It's a weak sound, the cry of somebody that knows it's pointless and yet can't help but shout into the void and hope that something will answer.

Before, that would have been god. You'd have prayed, lived as a hermit, sequestered yourself to a cave and live as one of the great ascetic saints. A life even further dedicated than nunhood.

Since he had refused to answer you on the boat, you turn away, and whimper like an injured dog when that scarred face turns to a mask of stone.

"Ha!" Johnny doesn't pick up on the tension that's rising, slowly, as you tremble under Simons gaze. Or maybe he does, and he doesn't care. "Havnae seen his ugly mug yet, have ye? Dinnae worry, lamb."

Guilt curls in your belly, dampening your fear. Simon doesn't look shamed, but you weren't afraid of his scars - truly, you were disoriented, barely clothed and towered over by the same man that took you.

"He won't bite," Johnny continues. He walks over and lays a hand on Simons waist, fingers curling in the off-white fabric. "Well, not ye."

A wink.

"Hush!" Simon barks. "Get her up, she needs to eat."

There's no hesitation. Johnny leans down to you, pulling you until you sit up with a wince. You bite your lips to keep from crying out again, pain lancing through your muscles. You're seized by muscle spasms, by the fiery hot pain of your chafed wrists and a gnawing, deep hunger in your stomach.

"How-" you choke, throat dry and voice unused. Johnny pauses helping you up to listen. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Few days, lass. It's the evening," he grins. "Ye should thank us. Kept ye warm, washed, slipped ye broth into that lovely mouth-"

Simon puts a wooden bowl down onto the table, louder than necessary. There's a grumble from Johnny, but he gets you up and waits while your legs get used to weight on them again.

You're half-dragged, mostly carried to the table. All you're wearing is that shirt, nipples pebbled against the front from the cold. Hard to care too much when your muscles scream even holding yourself sitting up.

You lean on Johnny as Simon ladles soup into bowls, hunched over the kitchen hearth, silent as the grave.

"Eat slowly," is all he says.

It smells good, herby and warm. Your stomach groans and gurgles and begs you to eat, but you're weary. Afraid. Only when the men eat that you pick up a carved wooden spoon and hesitantly slurp.

Heat. Satisfaction. Eating is incredible, and you discover the wonderous ingredients loaded into the soap; salmon, potatoes, a green herb that tastes like sharp, citrussy grass.

Then your stomach cramps, and you tilt with nausea.

"Too fast?" Johnny coos, rubbing a big palm up and down your back. "Awe."

"That's enough, then," Simon goes to take your bowl, but you're too fast. You pull it close to your chest, spilling a little onto the table and drops soak into your shirt. "You can have some later. I said that's enough."

You hold fast. Your stomach hurts, but you're desperate for some form of control. All the terror and all the uncertainty rises, rushing through your finally conscious brain into a battle of strength. You took me but I have agency! it says. You took me but I can take this!

He's too strong.

The wood bowl clatters against the ground with a crack, hot soup spilling on the floor. You heave with the force of your breathing, afraid and too-aware of your predicament.

Taken, snatched, at the mercy of men whose intentions are unclear.

You're too slow to cower when Simon's arm shoots forward and grabs your jaw, hard and mean, giving you a squeeze.

"Now we've been nice to you," he starts. His voice is as solid as his arm. You start to shake. "But I can just as easily put you over my knee. That what you want?"

You shake your head.

"That's what I thought."

Johnny leaves after the soup is cleaned and you're tucked back into the bed again, muscles trembling still with the exertion of your first meal. Small, electric spasms make you wince every one in a while. Your wrists are bruised and scabbed, but healing. They feel hot and itchy, but Simon tells you as he rubs an ointment into the wound that they're healing well.

You try to shy away, hide yourself, when he notices your grimace and reaches for a calf. The look he gives you stops you, takes your breath, until he shakes his head and starts rubbing deep circles into the tenderest spot of your muscle.

"God!" you should. A wonder how badly you can hurt from just laying in bed. He snorts. "Ow!"

"Don't be dramatic," his thumb presses deeply, moving down, then back up. Squeezing. The bed dips with his weight as he scoots closer to you.

You take a moment to look around you. The cabin is made of wood, warmed by the fire, and is full to the brim. Clay pots, furs, tools, a couple barrels- they're everywhere, unorganized. Makes you wonder about the sacred items they'd stolen from your convent.

"Why did you take me?" someone bolder has possessed you. Your mouth twists when Simon's eyes find yours.

His hands don't stop moving. They switch legs, pulling the finished one onto his big thigh. It does feel better, relaxed and tender in a good sort of way, pain not so unbearable anymore.

"You're our spoils," he moves down, digging into your arch. You almost yelp. "D'you know what we gave up for you?"

Something in your chest squeezes, something scared and unpleasant. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

"That's alright," Simon murmurs. Your anxiety fights against the comfort he's giving you. "You'll be alright."

He flits his gaze downwards, eyeing you. Your breath catches when you realize that the position has left your legs open, shirt ridden up, and he's looking right at your bare cunt.

"Ah!" you pull your knees shut, hands finding where you're exposed and folding over, cupping yourself, face ablaze. Tears prick at your eyes again, fear winning over comfort.

Simon doesn't let you panic for long.

"I won't force myself on you, pet," he grunts. "We won't."

There isn't much choice but to hang on to his words for dear life, to believe that he won't force you. The hope is fragile, but it's there. You take the chance to pull a soft, worn blanket over your body.

"Am I to be your slave?" your voice wavers.

"No," he says simply.

For a long time, you watch him. He putters about, moving things, unloading boxes no doubt full of supplies used for raids. You wonder if that means he doesn't intend to go on another one, then wonder what they'll do with you if they do leave.

Johnny comes back flushed, smiling. You smell sweetness under his sweat, something you can't recognize. His eyes crinkle when he sees you.

"Two nights," he breathes, looking at you but talking to Simon. "They'll celebrate in two nights."

Your stomach tenses, roiling, eyes fluttering with the effort to stay awake. Even a short time is much for you after your journey.

"Price's back?" Simon asks. He's pulling a sealskin from a burlap bag, smoothing it out with his hands onto the table. The silvery, spotted skin reflects the fireplace.

"Tomorrow," Johnny pulls leather boots off his feet, then thick socks. He wipes himself down with a rag from a tub, shuffling to the bed when he finishes. "Then we feast."

Your eyes are heavy slits, mouth open. You hardly move even when Johnny sits next to you and brushes a thumb over your cheek, smiling toothily down at you.

"Awe, she's precious," he says, lowering his voice. "Go to sleep now, little lamb."

You wake the same way as before. A tilt of one world into the next, sliding down into consciousness as slow as thick porridge.

Only this time, you're surrounded by a warmth not brought by thick furs. It's skin, all around you, boxing you in. On your face you feel hair, prickly and soft, comforting and frightening all at once.

Behind you, a chest breaths against your back. Your eyes open, alarm cutting through grogginess.

Johnnys big hand is clutching your breast, squeezing every few moments, snuffling into your neck like a sleepy animal.

You try to extricate yourself, lifting yourself to find Simon looking down at you, eyes half lidded but aware. There's warning there, but there's also contentment. Scars big and small litter his skin, pocked and torn and scraped, all shapes and sizes. Some are silvery while others are such a deep red you'd think they were still fresh.

He looks past you at Johnny, and turns to his side.

"Weren't planning on running, where you?" his voice is low, so as to not wake the other man.

"No," you whisper. Johnny shuffles behind you, sliding a thigh between your legs. "Please help me." you wiggle, trying to move.

Simon sighs, sitting up. He shuffles to the edge of the bed, then reaches to peel Johnnys hands off you. His hand slides against the soft spring of your breast, hands sliding under Johnnys to pull, brushing your nipple on the way up.

"Thank you," you're still whispering, not wanting to wake Johnny up lest it irritate Simon. You roll until you're out of his grasp, body feeling less pained than it did the day before.

"Hungry?" Simon moves towards the kitchen. "Got one more day to relax."

The feast, you think. The divide, the celebration. Frissons climb your skin until your scalp prickles.

"Yes, please," you sit up, weary of Johnny finding your heat in the bed.

The smell of animal fat and the sound of sizzling fills the cottage then. You look around, noting an improvement for the clutter. The sealskin is gone, replaced by two standing up boots.

"They're yours," Johnny says. You startle, almost leap, but he catches you by the hips and puts his face into your hair. "Simon stayed up all night."

"Gets cold," he dismisses. Eggs jump in the pan in front of him, popping in the hot tallow.

You have to be helped again to the table, but it's not so bad this time. You arm goes around Johnnys waist, his under yours, fingers barely brushing the underside of your breast.

Breakfast is good. Fried eggs, seasoned by the fat, over gruel. It fills you with an internal sense of strength, and you can actually finish it all today.

"Good girl!" Johnny claps your back. "Gonnae be choppin all our wood for winter, eh?"

After, Simon has you change into a simple brown wool dress. You try to ignore them looking at your nakedness as you drop the other shirt, but the wool is nice and warm and there's even a soft pale shift to go underneath it.

Then he slips pants on your legs, tied at the waist under the dress, and wraps wool around your calves.

"You're gonna run errands with me," Simon says. He wraps your feet again in wool, securing them with leather twine. "Get your strength up."

His eyes find yours where he's kneeling, squinting at you, expression turning stormy.

"I don't want to re-injure your wrists," he motions to them, and you look at the healing scabs. "But if you try to run, I'll drag you back by your hair n' tie 'em back up. You pick."

Outside, you wince against the light. Simon holds you by the elbow, walking at your weak pace. It's a tight village, houses clumped together, shops close. It's a wonder you haven't heard anyone from inside Johnny and Simons home, until you see how thickly the walls are built when the door opens.

The street is wet with mud, and you're grateful for the footwraps. They're warm against the chill, sliding through the mud beneath you when you lose your footing, legs feeling as new as a fawn.

"Here," Simon leads you to a market-like stall. Dried meats hang from the ceiling in bunches. The smell is pungent.

"Nik!" He shouts. A huge, burly man steps out.

They talk like they've known each other a long time, though not quite friends. An image of two great bears crosses your imagination, both big and still respecting the other. A rare alliance.

Simon hangs a bag off of you, a salty-smelling bag full of cured and fermented meats. The man looks down at you and grins as you leave, laughing lowly.

You bristle, but follow - what else is there to do?

The next stop is a real shop, only you can see a homestead behind a wooden counter.

It's a girl this time, lovely and soft. She smiles at Simon, wordlessly fetching another man from the homestead behind the store.

"Big man!" it's one of the raiders - the young one. Gaz. "And the nun." his brown eyes find yours, friendlier than the last time you saw him.

They talk, too, more amicably than the other man. Gaz folds his forearms over the counter and laughs, peeking at you every once in a while with intense eyes.

"Right," he claps his hands together. "I won't keep you."

You're starting to feel tired, overexerted.

Gaz comes back out with a wrapped package, the soft girl from before on his arm. The apples of her cheeks are high with a smile.

"See you!" she sits back down on her stool, wide hips wiggling until she's comfortable.

"See ya around," Gaz says. He winks at you.

Simon carries this package himself, not looking at you as he leads you further into the village.

People make way for him, not in fear, but because of his size. He's bigger than most, even some of the other men.

The third and final place has you panting, hunched with the effort of keeping yourself up.

It's a house not unlike Simon and Johnny's, just bigger. A wide, squat wooden house with a wide open door and goats bleating from a pen closeby.

Simon glances at you out of the corner of his eye, putting his hand on your lower back as somebody steps out of the doorway.

"Hello again, Simon," it's Price. The leader, or perhaps the chief. It would make sense - his authority, his size, the number of scars on his skin. Nearly as many as Simon. "You bring your end of the bargain?"

Straight to the point then. Price doesn't look at you once, which doesn't do much to assuage the fear that you're the end of the bargain.

"If you've got yours," Simon leaves you behind to follow him inside, where you can hear them talking. Jovial, like old friends.

By the time you get back home, you're wiped. Exhaustion pulls at you like invisible strings dragging you to the bed. Even Johnny with his smarmy expression and his patting the mattress doesn't stop you from crashing.

The men have brought you to a celebration. After letting you sleep a majority of the day after your errands, Simon dressed you in the same wool dress and wrapped a thick cape around your shoulders to ward off the chill.

It's a welcome home. Simon had been the first to see Price at his home - he and a band of fledgling warriors had sailed right past the village and gone hunting.

Price is not the chief, as you had assumed. He is a leader, an explorer, the ambitious spearhead of overseas raids. Nodding heads and a sense of respect, of deference, follows him wherever he goes. Even as an outsider you can see it.

The chief is a woman. It's not something you expected, not with the sheer size of the men around you, not with the brutality in which they regale their exploits. Many of them have wives that trail them, welcome them, carry their children on their hips, or are welcomed as fellow warriors.

These are the fledglings?

You're in a wild, barbaric place.

When you reach the longhouse, a building as short as all the others but stretched much farther and lit orange with light and the smell of honey, you're bathed in warmth.

No, not honey. Alcohol, sweet and cloying on the breath of each viking. Their depravity seems to know no bounds. It's the same sweet smell you'd smelled on Johnny that night he'd left - presumably to speak to the chief.

Laswell, they call her. The chief. She stands on a raised dais with Price, murmuring between themselves, nodding toward Simon and Johnny when they take their seats.

"Right here," Simon spreads his thighs. There are no other spaces on the bench.

"I don't mind standing," you try. He pinches the back of your knee until you buckle into him, tucked into the cradle of his arms. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Not lettin' ye sit apart from us," Johnny brushes your cheek, and you look past him to the rest of the people gathered.

Decorated, scarred, hardened warriors. Price joins the group, taking a heavy seat by the man from before - Nik - and exchanging claps on the back. Gaz, a woman with dark hair, but Gaz's soft girl is nowhere to be found.

"Welcome!" Laswell shouts. The hall goes silent. "Drink, eat - celebrate a job well done by our boys."

Eruption; noise all around. She's a carefully controlled, steady woman, yet she's inspired this group of a few hundred into the loudest cacophony you've ever heard.

Simon cups his hands over your ears. You try not to be grateful.

Debauchery. You witness debauchery- drinking beyond your most twisted imagination, dancing surely enough to summon a demon, maybe the devil himself. It's enough to make you pray under your breath, turning away from public displays of affection.

Above you, in front of you, conversation. It doesn't slip your mind how high up on the table Simon and Johnny are, right across from Price and Gaz and next to Laswell at the head of the table.

Even she laughs, imbibes, discusses the distribution of goods with a content sort of smile.

"And the nun?" eyes turn to you. Laswell has focused her gaze on you, sharper than before. "You're satisfied with just her?"

Johnny takes a long pull of his mead, before pressing his shoulder to Simons.

"Thas'right!" he only slurs a little. "Found ourselves a proper little wife, we did."

A chill moves through you. A slow freezing. You tense in Simons lap, spine rigid, heart flipping in your chest. Carefully, you try not to show a reaction.

Wife?

"Och! Sorry, lamb," he turns to you and takes your hands. "Didnae mean to ruin the surprise."

"Quite the surprise," Gaz chirps. His girl has found him, and he's made a place for her beside him. You're jealous of her autonomy, especially now. Taken as prisoner, as spoils, and now?

"You promised," you mumble. "You said you wouldn't."

"What's that, love?" Gaz again, but you aren't listening. Blood rushes through your ears.

"You said you wouldn't force me," you look up now, at Simon and his deeply scarred face. He betrays nothing. "Why lie?"

"Didn't lie," he grunts. "Now be quiet."

"When's that, then?" Price asks.

"Before winter."

The walk back is silent except for the wet slaps of your feet against the mud. The chill is worse at night, biting at your nose and your fingers. At least your future husband - husbands - don't want you to freeze.

The thought hits you like a boulder, heavy and immovable. You stop walking, drawing the attention of the observant men.

"Too tired?" Johnny asks.

You run.

Or try to, as fast as you can.

It's hard in this terrain, slippery and with the cold burning your cheeks. You have no direction in mind, only obeying the mindless terror coursing through your blood, unleashed by this night of truths.

Simon is the one to catch up to you not ten feet from where you started, grabbing the back of your cape and pulling hard until you fall on your butt.

It hurts, the ground has slowly been freezing with the onset of fall and Simon is not nice as he captures you back.

"Ow," you sniffle, fingers wet and muddy.

"Yeah I bet that hurt," his voice has gone hard. "Where did you think you were going?" a laugh, harsh and grating.

"Didnae mean to scare ye," Johnny says. He helps Simon in dragging you back to to cottage.

"In!" Simon barks when you reach the door. You plant your feet, frustrated tears prickling hot and then falling down your cheeks in heavy droplets. "Stupid girl- get inside."

The insult adds salt to the wound as you stumble onto your hands and knees. Pain lances up your wrists.

"Did'ya think you'd be able to what, survive by yourself?" he scoffs. Johnny helps, but mostly just acts as if you're a doll, in removing your cape and sodden woolen dress.

The shift is wet, too. Less muddy than the dress, but still wet. Johnny slips it over your head and you cross your arms to hide your nakedness, still crying.

"Hey," Simon crouches. He puts his face close to yours, noses touching, eyes deadly. "I didn't lie. We won't force you, you'll come to us."

"You'll go to hell," you're upset now, but it only serves to make them shake their heads and laugh breathily, silently. "You stole me."

"Aye, we did," you're wiped dry by big hands. "And you'll be our wife."

Another slip goes over your head, thin and rough on your skin, well-worn.

"Get in bed."

Johnny listens and brings you with him, wiping the tears from your face as he lays you down. You're as helpless as a lamb.

"If I have any choice," you start. "I won't be your wife, and I won't-"

"Wheesht!" Johnny pulls you to him, hand over your mouth, making room for Simon. His other hand goes over your stomach, squeezing. Warmth surrounds you. "You're overexcited, ye need some rest."

God help you, you're so tired you do.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #soap cod #goap x reader #soap x ghost #drgnfly writes #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #honestly feels filler-y but #feels good to get it out #2am posting #hopefully not everyone is asleep ahaaaahaa #red ochre

262 notes · View notes