Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
💉 Everytime I close my eyes
it's like a dark paradise 💉
--- *** ---
A handful of minutes after you dwelled in your new home which was reckoned as cosy and comfortable nest into the ambitious Monsignor's secure arms during the lift up to his office's en-suite bedroom, suddenly disappointment twisted across your facial features after Timothy dropped you gingerly on the single compact bed and swaddling you warmly with a duvet, blanketing your petite frame promptly.
"You have to wait to find the disinfectant and pad to treat the wounds and clean dried blood, {Y/N}!" At the moment, you readjusted the duvet and your reclining position, opting to sense the comfort pricking your figure, squinting up your {E/C} gemstones at the man of the cloth who was rummaging his bedroom's dressing table top drawer where he kept medicaments and first aid kits, in case, to treat his own unintentional welts, wounds and bleeding slits in the form of sinisterly blood smiles. His virginally brittle fingers rummaged strong-willingly, ambitiously every remarkable paraphernalia until he retrieved a sheerly oyster-white round pad and disinfectant with a thick, cotton cloth to daub the dried gore. "Don't you dare to think of escaping!" Even when bizarrely baleful sounded his caution to keep your wits about your passivity to maintain your muscles and bones motionless, nevertheless, you seized your naturally mauve, chapped lips in a pensive, attentive purse and following docilely his instructions. "I got it! Just don't move!" You reconsidered and assimilated his instruction.
"I promise." In the meantime, he shut in a diligent slam the dressing table's top drawer and approaching the compact bed, his rear perching on the edge of the furniture, offering you a benevolently soothing smile, heavenly brightening your facial features and your (E/C) embers flamed childlike focus, fixed on the clergyman who was far from uninteresting target, oozing of surprises and paradoxal mysteries which you may not explain yourself at all. After soaking with the disinfectant's liquid the flatly round pad, consequently you protracted your arms and legs leisurely, giving him a better access to treat the fresh wounds which were a few days old after unwrapping the duvet, in order to daub them with the flat surface of the drenched round pad, gritting your teeth at the foreign pinch of the disinfectant steeping the lousy plum tints, mapping your arms and legs which weren't decently treated on the right time and the pain was sorely unbearable, stoicism looming onto your face, generous layer of clamminess thickly enduing your temple and glimmering past the British compatriot's vision. His utter focus to aid you with healing the flaws from the bar fight incident was doubtlessly inexorable.
"Chin up, {Y/N}! We'll get you healed and feel like a new person." In the interim, your petite, calloused hands curled up in balled fists, opting to not show any signs of severe pain and sensitivity during your wounds' treatment, besides rolling your eyes, stifling a gasp to roll from your tongue as your front ivory teeth nipped at the lower lip. After his pristine fingertips supported the tad and daubing your arms' bruises, throughout he slithered down his attention to your youthfully long bare, alabaster legs, swallowing hard at the amalgamating sight of bare skin's temptation which mesmerized him and the bone structure that seasoned the lower body, whilst on other hand choking on his salty lump, widening his chocolate brown gems as each chocolate pool glinted fierce fury how Cole has left a vast track of his damage, tattooed on you and nobody has dared to spend modicum of their spare time to manage the treatment of the vicious bruises. "Oh God! This monster has left vast tracks of his damage on you, {Y/N}! He deserves to be punished for everything and hopefully God plays his own cards right."
