Touch repellent

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: Could you do something about a reader who was cursed by a witch/wizard to not be able to feel any passion/pleasure until they touch their soulmate? Either the witch is their mate and didn't realize, or just like a random monster idk. Can be SFW or NSFW, up to you. Thank you!!

A/N: This was more painful than anticipated because I took it a step further, hope that’s okay, ended up very sweet. Enjoy the angst, I guess. :)

Wizard x fem!reader || sfw, hurt/comfort, lots of banter

It takes you two years to realize there’s something wrong with you.

Every time you touch or are touched, your body reaction is utter disgust. At first you don’t sweat it, weird people made you react like that before… But then you try to kiss a girl and your whole body rejects the feeling, nausea filling your throat until you want to puke. You walk to your house completely confused, not knowing what is wrong with you.

You spend the next couple weeks testing your theory, and every time you touch somebody, the same happens. Disgust fills your body until you are almost shivering, your body reacting badly to every single touch. Even worse, if the intentions are romantic or sexual. Which sucks, because you want to kiss pretty ladies and boys.

So you do what you didn’t want to do. You go back home to look for help. To the place you remember being happy for the last time. To the place you felt like you were alive and touch still feel like a part of you. Where you could hug your mom and feel happy about it, where you could pat your friends in the back and feel the camaraderie… You needed to have that back. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need it back, you want to feel normal, to be able to touch people and enjoy it again…

Even if he’s there.

He, as in, your wizard childhood friend who you haven’t seen since you left. He insisted on you cutting ties if you decided to leave, and you couldn’t do anything to argue with him. It hurt. It hurt more than anything to leave him behind, it hurt even worse than feeling awful every time someone touched you. Leaving him behind was like tearing a part of you, but he rejected you, and you couldn’t be there without feeling the pain every time you looked.

So you left.

And you hurt.

But now, back home and knocking on his door to seek answers to a question you didn’t know how to formulate, your whole body is shivering in anticipation. That never happened before. It’s like your soul is reaching out to touch him, to seek him. And the second he opens the door and lets you in, you feel calmer than you have felt in a very long, long time.

When he reaches out to shake your hand, as if you didn’t know everything about the other until you left, you don’t get the usual anguish or disgust. It feels different. Better. It feels like everything in the world is okay again just by that simple gesture.

And then it clicks.

All those years ago, when you left him. When you walked away after he asked you to stay and you knew you couldn’t because he didn’t love you like that. Because you knew your feelings were unrequited…

“It was you!” You scream, a threatening finger pointing in his direction, pushing his chest until he’s against the wall and you are fuming with pent up anger.

He has the audacity to act surprised, and that only makes you angrier. “What do you mean?” He tries to fake, not moving, his back against the wall as he looks down at you. You hate (lie) that he’s so tall, that he’s looking down on you even when you are furious with him.

“I haven’t been able to do anything, to feel anything… Every time I touched another being, I could only feel disgust… And now I touch you and it feels warm, and cozy, it feels like coming home…” Your words leave a bitter taste in your tongue, the realization of what happened settling uncomfortably inside your chest.

The asshole smirks. “It does?” You want to punch him in the face.

“You cursed me!” You accuse, the pain in your voice making his smirk deflate.

He looks at you with confusion and a hint of anger, but you don’t back down, fully aware that you are right, because your palm is against his chest, and you aren’t feeling disgust. It only feels warm and content. It only feels incredible and like anything you’ve ever felt before.

“I…” He hesitates. “I did,” he finally admits, looking ashamed for the first time since you entered. Your hand finds his neck, not pressing, not hurting, just resting there as a threat (but not really).

“Why would you do that? Why would you want me to feel disgust upon touching others?” You try not to sound pained by it, but it hurts, your eyes filled with tears. It hurts that not only he rejected you, but he hated you that much that he couldn’t even let you be happy with others.

“Because… Because I…” He stutters. “Because I loved you,” his voice sounds like a surrender, and your brain short-circuits.

You aren’t expecting his response and your hold on his neck releases a little. “What?” You aren’t sure if you feel more surprised or betrayed. He loved you?

He’s still struggling to talk, stuttering, but he explains: “I could sense that you were my mate, but you couldn’t... And you were so fixated in others, in going away from me, enjoying others… I just… I wanted you to suffer a tiny fraction of what I felt. So I cursed you.” He sounds completely defeated, and your soul hurts for him. Hurts for you. For the misunderstanding. For the way you two suffered because he was stupid (and okay, maybe you were, too).

“Why didn’t you just say something, you stupid shit?” You yell at him, your hand pressing down on his chest as the other curls around the side of his neck, almost a caress. “I thought you didn’t want me!” That part leaves you breathless, the anger slipping out of you and leaving your body trembling and defeated.

It’s his turn to look at you, perplexed. “What?”

“I loved you, too, you stupid maroon! I was so in love with you it hurt to be near you. But you never acted on it even though we were mates, that’s why I left!” You don’t want to scream, but the last part comes out a bit high pitched and painful. Like there’s spikes in your throat, and when you look up and meet his eyes, it only hurts worse.

“But you… You always talked about others and I…” His voice is barely a whisper, as if he never even thought of the possibility of you loving him back. Of you understanding what mates were… Stupid wizard.

You pinch his nipple through his shirt until he shuts up and lets out a yelp. “You were a stupid wizard who didn’t know how to read the room. I was trying to make you jealous, so you would act on it. And you didn’t, so I left,” you explain when he only stares at you, confusion clear in his features.

But when he processes your words, he only lets out a little: “Oh.”

And you have enough of his bullshit.

“Ugh you are so fucking stupid,” and that’s all you tell him before your hands are grabbing his long hair and pulling him to you, your mouths crashing as you devour his mouth as you have wanted for so long. “You are going to pay for every single touch I missed,” you tell him between kisses and bites.

He whines, whispering: “Yes, yes. Anything you want… mate.”

And then he kisses you again.