You're sitting on your enemies lap.

His jaw is locked, eyes hardening when he studies your wounds..

You let out a hiss, as he dabs your arm trying to clean up the blood

"This is going to hurt". He warms you before pouring the alcohol over your arm.

You muffle your screams by burying your face in his neck.

The pain is consuming. You start panting and withering in his lap

He presses his hand on your waist to steady you as he clears his throat

"Y/n", he grounds you. "Stop"

oh.