bruisedconscience

[bruisedconscience]

“Oh, you did have a red one…”

A conniving part of Squid had been tempted to lie… But surely that a one-time mistake? People made mistakes— Squid didn’t. But people did!

Squid rubbed over his eye and couldn’t remember his numbers, late and night and sleepy, trying to visually compare the numbers 6 and 8. Eventually, he decided they were the same, and put his blue 6 down on top of Paul’s red 8.

Squid narrowed his eyes at the Uno card the priest had put over his. “Father Sir Paul, that’s a green one. I put a red one…”

"Is it?" Paul questioned, frowning a bit as he leaned forward to get a better look at the card. It seemed the sane color to him, but he already knew all too well how unreliable he was with colors.

Perhaps this was a bad game suggestion....

"Rigth, silly me." He mused, plucking the card up and giving his deck a thoughtful once over and picking at card closest to the same hue as the one already placed down.

[bruisedconscience]

“Oh… Well shoot, that’s no fun.” He wandered over to the grass, eyes on the ground, and looked around for the ring, too. On the border between the grass and the gray, gravel road, Riley spotted the key ring with four or five thick, dark golden keys.

“Here they are, Father.” Right behind him. “Tricky, huh? Monsignor Pruitt had a tough time, too. He has trouble discerning…what was it… Well, anything that wasn’t already red or blue.” He chuckled, remembering kids handing him plastic easter eggs and screaming with laughter when he confidently, quickly said the wrong color. That’s not purple, Father Hill! It’s green!

Riley stopped…standing beside Father Paul in the lawn outside St Patrick’s. “Are you….looking at a cool bug?”

Paul's stressed gaze turned up to the voice that called out to him, and shy laugh parting his lips to try and erase the irritation bubbling up in his chest.

"Oh... Riley." Paul mused through a forced laugh, hands setting on his hips as he turned to face the other. "Bug? No, no... much sillier than that, actually. I dropped the key ring to the church, and I just.. im having a devil of a time finding it." He mused, offering a stressed sounding laugh.

[bruisedconscience]

“And I intend to.” They just kept missing each other. “How about tomorrow? There’s this jujitsu instructor I know. She’d let us use her mats for practice.”

Napoleon nodded again, giving the tech whizz a sleepy grin. He was infamous for going round after round in bed…but tonight? Solo nuzzled into Cecil’s neck again…and immediately fell asleep, still dressed in his bath robe.

[bruisedconscience]

Tyler…didn’t let himself relax, exactly, but he did shiver at her long nails skating over his bare skin.

His eyes shined as he looked to her, almost hopeful. “Oh, I’m not passing up you joining me. Just might be forced into a show if I have an audience, know what’m sayin’?”

Tyler nodded his head, boyish with puppy dog eyes. He did win 4 rounds, that wasn’t nothing!

“You pick, sweetie, I can’t tell trash from lean cuisine. I could eat a horse right now, that’s all I know.” He was still sweaty from being in the ring.

[bruisedconscience]

“What sort of place are you hocking?”

OPEN.

"okay, but... i know a place."

[bruisedconscience]

“And I intend to.” They just kept missing each other. “How about tomorrow? There’s this jujitsu instructor I know. She’d let us use her mats for practice.”

Napoleon nodded again, giving the tech whizz a sleepy grin. He was infamous for going round after round in bed…but tonight? Solo nuzzled into Cecil’s neck again…and immediately fell asleep, still dressed in his bath robe.

Napoleon looked up, propping his chin against Cecil’s shoulder.

“You know I hate to put you in harm’s way. I wouldn’t have been able to do my job at all, if I were constantly worrying about catching you in the crossfire. I’m home now, aren’t I?” Sly arms loop around Cecil’s middle.

[bruisedconscience]

Tyler nodded his head, boyish with puppy dog eyes. He did win 4 rounds, that wasn’t nothing!

“You pick, sweetie, I can’t tell trash from lean cuisine. I could eat a horse right now, that’s all I know.” He was still sweaty from being in the ring.

Affectionate Tyler: Black eye and split lip clean but still healing, Tyler walked over to Latrelle and kissed her shoulder, lazing against her sleepily. “Did I earn…dinner with the missus this time?”

Unprompted Ask || Always Accepting

"Did you?" She questioned. Smiling as she felt the gentle kiss across her shoulder. "I don't know. You tell me.." She whispered. Leaning over and kissing his forehead.

"You did put up a rather good fight.. I suppose.. I could let you join me for dinner. What are you feeling tonight? I want something to put me into a good food coma.." The woman smiled widely.

[bruisedconscience]

Napoleon looked up, propping his chin against Cecil’s shoulder.

“You know I hate to put you in harm’s way. I wouldn’t have been able to do my job at all, if I were constantly worrying about catching you in the crossfire. I’m home now, aren’t I?” Sly arms loop around Cecil’s middle.

Affectionate Solo: Napoleon joined Cecil on the couch and buried his face in the man’s neck, freshly showered and thoroughly exhausted from jet lag. “Remind me the next time I have an affair in Eastern Asia to wear more sunscreen…”

Unprompted Ask || Always Accepting

Cecil was like a cat. Mad Napoleon had left him for such a long time. but it was hard to stay mad as he curled up to him. Taking in the clean scent from the other.

"Next time you should bring me." Cecil muttered in a bitter tone. "And then I'll be able to remind you,"

[bruisedconscience]

Illya called from behind the doorframe, hand still pressed over his eyes as he waited there.

“Sorry again! No, er… Storm’s lookin’ pretty bad out there, just wan’ed to see if’n you needed help…bringing in your horses for the night… Some of them seemed…set on enjoyin’ the light show…”

@bruisedconscience asked: Affectionate Illya: He glanced to her, then backed up out of the room with red cheeks. “Sorry,” Illya said in his Southern-soaked Russian, “I shoulda knocked before enterin’.”

Stevie didn't hear the door open as she was pulling her shirt off to change. When she's got the fabric out of her face to see Illya at the door, she curses quietly under her breath, arms raised to hug herself and then duck behind her bed enough so she could still see over it but she was cover for the most part.

"Uh.... Can I help you with somethin'?" She calls out, her cheeks flaring with a bright red color. She could have sworn she locked the door.

[bruisedconscience]

headcanon: Illya

Illya swears in different languages depending on his mood or the context.

idle shock or surprise: Ukrainian

pain or anger/high stakes: Russian

during sex: Russian

forgetfulness or low stakes: Ukrainian

[bruisedconscience]

“You sound very convincing,” Illya teased. “I don’t expect it to interest you. That’s why I didn’t suggest a bedtime story about it.”

Eyebrows cinched together. Almost as if to relieve Cyrus’s worry on being discovered, Illya sat up slightly.

“Thinking about dying today…in a nice way?”

Illya shut his eyes, lounging against Cyrus’s chest. “It is a medical examiner’s book. UNCLE agents have to stay current on all sorts of medical journals. It is guaranteed our enemies do the same…” He sounds like he could fall asleep right there.

“What were you writing?” he murmurs in turn.

[bruisedconscience]

Illya couldn’t help answering the rock of Paul’s hips with another dip lower, taking him as deep as he could but not lingering, opening his mouth on the way back up to the tip instead of sucking before continuing to work Paul’s tip.

Fingers in his hair and Illya shuddered softly, visibly trembling down his spine, and his hips cant back and down, rocking onto his own fingers, making it obvious he’d started fingering himself.

Illya hummed, happy as could be, and kept up his slow, careful licks around Paul’s tip, suckling the skin there briefly up before pulling it gently back down with nimble fingers to lick over Paul’s slit…

forgive me, father… - paul & illya

[bruisedconscience]

The yelp had Illya seeing stars, eyes shut softly as he worked his mouth. But God, if he didn’t love doing this for Paul.

Slow…

Arousal curled sour and sharp down Illya’s spine, his fingers moving from Paul’s waist to between his own legs, hand slipping in past his belt and his boxers with a quiet breath, pulling off from Paul to pant quietly against him.

Paul wanted him to not hurry up?

Christ.

Illya leaned forward and took just Paul’s tip into his mouth, then, humming contentedly like a purring cat, swirling his tongue around him slowly as he delved his fingers deeper inside himself with a soft moan.

forgive me, father… - paul & illya

[bruisedconscience]

Illya’s pulse thuds at his neck following Paul’s tongue, heart racing as he smiled. He swallowed, his heart in his throat.

“You get me so wild, baby…” He smoothed his fingers through Paul’s hair, cheeks staining deep pink as he was virtually effortlessly lifted onto the table. Being small admittedly had its advantages…

Biting down on his lip, Illya wrapped his legs around Paul’s waist and brought him in closer. “Ah, that’s a 12% increase. I must have done well to deserve more time, hm?” He tangled his fingers in Paul’s hair and yanked him down into a deep kiss.

a (welcome) distraction - paul & illya

[bruisedconscience]

Illya shut his eyes, lounging against Cyrus’s chest. “It is a medical examiner’s book. UNCLE agents have to stay current on all sorts of medical journals. It is guaranteed our enemies do the same…” He sounds like he could fall asleep right there.

“What were you writing?” he murmurs in turn.

Affectionate Illya: He smothered his hand over his eyes and closed his book, his glasses askew before putting them and the book on the bedside table and rolling onto Cyrus. “Injuries to the solar plexus can cause abdominal pain and other physiological symptoms, such as,” he recited, then yawned, “fatigue, weight gain, and digestive issues.”

Unprompted Ask || Always Accepting

Hearing illya speak up, Cyrus raised his head. Raising a brow as he listened. ".. Okay," he said. Putting his pencil and paper on the bedside table. "I'll keep that in mind next time I write a song about.. injuries to the solar plexus." The vampire let out a sigh and wrapped his arm around Illya. "So.. What were you reading again?" He questioned, looking over at the book. "Is it just about every injury and their.. side effects?"

[bruisedconscience]

Blazing summer. Cold coffee.

who are you? kris! they/them, 21+

can i write w/ you? r u 21+? let’s go!

note for non-writing or personal blogs: feel free like threads/stories I’m in or send in asks for my characters, but I won’t be able to RP any established stories with someone who doesn’t have a character to write. I don’t participate in y/n stories. sorry about that!

where are you? mobile based 24/7 babey!

where r ur ask memes or muse gifsets? its all on my rp sideblog! here’s the inbox meme tag! or search for #open thread on this blog!

making rp threads shorter (trimming)? I can’t edit/trim reblogs anymore (not after I draft a post!) so I probably won’t be able to trim, really ever again.. this site isn’t that cool!

who do you rp as? here’s the big list!

anything else? i like programming & i don’t like my day job. i’m pretty sporadicly available but if we click, i wanna yell at u abt our characters kissing or fighting ok!! ok bye bye

Wild winter. Warm coffee.

loudest muse(s):

the 60’s U.N.C.L.E. agents!

illya & napoleon info here (2 min tv show lore intro)

illya voice claim here hosting the very 70’s show Hullabaloo!

napoleon vibes here on my mfu fanvid<3

current fixation:

the man from uncle tv show! :)

[bruisedconscience]

a heads up which i’ll be adding to my pinned!

notice: this account is not a y/n blog.

personal blogs can like threads/stories I’m in or send in asks for my characters, but I won’t be able to RP any established stories with someone who doesn’t have a character to write.

Sorry for any confusion!