#eyebrow boyfrens

[wh0re43van]

Boyfriend Pt 2 (Warren Lipka x Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend catches Warren being a little too friendly with you, causing a fight to break out. Warren expresses that he wants to be more than a secret booty call.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut, violence (not really directed at reader), blood, weed

Pt 1 , Pt 3

I wake up to my cell phone buzzing on Dakota’s nightstand. I groan, throwing the unconscious boy off me as I roll over to grab the small rectangle of plastic. I check the digital alarm clock.

2:35 in the morning. Who the fuck is calling me?

My stomach flips when I see Warrens name lighting up on my phone. I run out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Hey,” I whisper. “Warren it’s 2:30 in the morning,” I giggle quietly as I lock the door.

“I know, I know,” he laughs. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you,” I hear the bong bubbling in the background. My cheeks burn red. “I just got some crazy bud if you wanna come smoke,” I can hear his smirk through the phone. “I can pick you up,” he offers. I smile at his extremely tempting offer.

“I can’t,” I sigh, disappointing both Warren and myself. “I’m at Dakotas. He’ll wake up and I already agreed to drive him to the gaming store first thing in morning,” I explain. He’s silent for a moment.

“Alright,” I can hear frustration in his voice. “Yeah, I’m the side piece, I forgot,” he scoffs. My heart sinks.

“Warren, I’m sorry,” I want to cry.

“No,” he sighs. “I understand I guess. I will see you soon though,” he says calmly.

“Of course,” I sigh in relief that he still wants to see me.

“I’ll see you around, beautiful,” he says, then the line goes dead. I delete the recent call before crawling back into bed, but I’m unable to sleep. I miss Warrens voice so much. I kick myself for not accept his offer as I toss and turn for the rest of the night.

•

•

The next afternoon, I sit across from Dakota in a small local diner, playing with the spoon sticking out of my coffee mug as he talks on his cellphone to one of his friends about a football game or something, I’m not too sure honestly. I’m not really listening.

A car door slams catching my attention. I look out the condensation covered window next to our booth to see Warren and a guy I’ve never seen before step out of a vehicle. My eyes light up.

“I’m gonna go smoke a cig real quick,” I sputter in one breath, taking my pack of Camels and running out the door before Dakota even responds. I walk up behind warren without him seeing me, as he talks to the other guy getting out of the car.

“Got a light?” I ask, popping a menthol in my mouth as I smile from ear to ear, tapping his shoulder. He turns around with his eyebrows threaded in confusion, but immediately matches my expression as soon as he sees me.

“Y/n,” he pulls me into a hug. “Spencer gimme your lighter,” he demands the other guy. He tosses a blue bic lighter to Warren.

“Who’s-“ Spencer begins to ask.

“Just go get us a seat, man,” Warren cuts him off. The awkward boy walks away quietly. Warren turns back to me, his grin returning as he lights the menthol cigarette between my lips.

“Thanks,” I smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach as he watches me remove the cigarette from my lips, exhaling the smoke.

“Mind if I bum one? Spencer locked mine in his car,” he motions to the pack of Newports trapped on the passenger seat. I giggle, handing him a cig.

“You here by yourself?” he asks as the orange flame from the lighter lights up his face and reflects an auburn glow in his dark eyes.

“Uh, no, actually,” I take another drag, motioning my cigarette towards the window of the dinner. Warren tuns to see Dakota talking on his phone, still unaware of my departure.

“Oh,” his grin faulters.

“I’m, uhm, free after this though,” I offer. Just like that, his dimples have returned.

“I have some stuff to go over with Spencer,” he throws his thumb over his shoulder in reference to the awkward boy in dinner, then ashes his cigarette. “But I’m free tonight,” he stares into my eyes. I can’t contain the huge grin plastered on my face. Warren reaches his free hand out to slowly release some loose strands of my hair that the wind blew into my lip gloss. His hand lingers on my face, we lock gazes as his thumb caresses my cheek, I close my eyes and lean into his touch.

“What the fuck are you doing with my girl, man?” Dakota shouts, quickly approaching Warren. He swiftly turns around to face my angry boyfriend.

“Just calm down man. I wasn’t-“ Warren laughs, tossing his cigarette on the ground, but Dakota cuts him off by shoving his chest, hard. He doesn’t budge, but easily retaliates the gesture, sending Dakota stumbling backwards a foot or two. I know it’s wrong, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say its insanely hot watching Warren get angry.

“Keep your hands off me, douchebag or ill kick your ass right here in front of your girl,” he spits in Dakotas face, literally. Dakota looks at me, wiping Warrens’ saliva off his face, then quickly hits Warren with a right hook. Warren’s head snaps to the side with the loud thud of knuckles on skin. Warren looks back at Dakota in shock, wiping the small trickle of blood from his nose. I watch completely stunned, even though I want to stop them, I can’t move. This all happened so fast.

“You hit like a pussy,” Warren chuckles before uppercutting Dakota so hard that his neck cracks as his head flies backward. I snap out of my haze, running over to Dakota as he steadies himself. I grab his arm in attempt to help him.

“Come on, Dakota let’s just go,” I plead, not wanting to watch him get his ass laid out on the frozen pavement.

“Get off me, bitch!” he screams, back handing me, not taking his eyes off Warren. I grab my cheek, about to cuss him out when Warren takes Dakotas collar into his fists, shoving him against Spencer’s car. Warren grabs his throat, holding his head steady, so his already bruised knuckles can strike as hard as possible against Dakota’s jaw. Blood immediately pours out of his busted lip.

“Don’t fucking talk to y/n like that!” he screams, just inches from my boyfriend’s face. The veins popping out of his neck, his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping onto Dakota. Warren spits the blood that’s dripped from his nose between his lips into Dakota’s face. “Does that make you feel strong, pussy boy? Huh? You feel like man when you bitch slap your girlfriend?” he growls, his fist contacting Dakotas abdomen this time, knocking wind out of him, leaving my boyfriend wheezing.

When Warren screams that last phrase, that’s when I realize; Dakota is fighting for his masculinity, Warren’s fighting for me. I turn on my heels to run inside the dinner, finding the boy that Warren arrived with.

“Spencer, right?” I ask out of breath. He nods his head, confused. “Warrens beating the shit out of my boyfriend, I need you to help me stop him before he kills him,” I explain breathlessly.

“Oh,” Spencer says processing what I’m saying. “Oh my- Oh my god!” He jumps from the seat, running out the door with me.

“Warren, dude come on, you’re gonna get arrested!” Spencer shouts, cautiously approaching the scuffling boys. It seems like this isn’t the first time Spencer has witnessed this. It appears that Dakota managed to get another hit or two in, because Warrens eyebrow appears busted and they’re on the ground now, a small pool of blood forming on the frosted pavement underneath Dakota.

“Fuck off, Spence,” Warren growls about to strike again.

“Please Warren! You’re gonna kill him!” I shriek. Warren pauses, Spencer takes the opportunity to pull Warren off Dakota. I run over to my boyfriend, trying to help him up.

“Get off of me you stupid bitch!” Dakota shouts, slapping me off him as he tries to stand on his shaky legs.

“Hey!” Warren shouts in the background, Spencer holds him back again.

“Dakota, please. You need help,” I plead feeling bad for him.

“This is your fault! If you weren’t out here whoring it up with this clown, this wouldn’t have happened,” he screams in my face, blood dripping from multiple different wounds on his face, his nose already purple.

“Just let me drive you home,” I sigh, feeling less guilty since he had the audacity to call me a whore, when he slept with my cousin in my own car two months ago. Actually, after remembering that, I don’t feel bad for him at all anymore.

“No! I’m walking! Fuck off! And fuck all of you! You too Spencer!” he shouts as he limps away, holding his stomach.

 I guess spencer was the mutual friend.

 I turn to see Warren leaning against Spencer’s car, smoking one of his Newports.

“What did I do?” I hear spencer ask, I ignore him.

“Warren I’m so-“ my eyes well up with tears, my cheek still stinging as the cold wind blows against the hand print on my face.

“Come here, are you okay?” He pulls me into a quick hug then examines my cheek. Placing a bloody hand on my cheek.

“Of course I’m fine,” I sigh grabbing his face. “Look at you,” I frown, putting a gentle hand on his face. He winces against my touch. His bottom lip and right eyebrow are both busted. There’s blood coming from his nose, flowing over his lips and onto his chin. His right cheek is bright red and swollen.

“You should see the other guy,” he chuckles, popping the cigarette back into his mouth. How can he joke at a time like this. Nevertheless, I laugh lightly, shaking my head.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” I offer.

“I’ll go get your keys and stuff,” he smiles.

“No, Warren, I can get them. Just stay here,” I dash back into the dinner, everyone giving me weird looks. I smile awkwardly, throwing a 10 down on the table, then run back to the boys, the bells on the doors jingling loudly behind me.

“Okay, come on,” I take Warrens hand.

“Should, uh, should I just go home then?” Spencer asks awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, Spence. Get the fuck out of here,” Warren dismisses him, half joking with the timid boy. I can tell that their friendship has an interesting dynamic.

•

•

“Thank god my folks ain’t here,” Warren sighs as he unlocks his front door, allowing me to enter the home first.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” I ask looking around the house, which is becoming a familiar scene.

“I’ll grab it, just head down to my room,” he says motioning to the basement door as he walks up the carpet steps. I obey, making my way to his bedroom.

I sit down on his couch, a few moments later, Warren enters with the first aid kit.

“Is the worst of it on your face?” I ask the mangled boy in front of me as I pop the plastic box open. He winces as he pulls his black t-shirt up and over his head. He turns around to reveal a nasty patch of road rash stretching from his spine over to his left shoulder. “Oh, Warren,” I gasp, sadness in my voice. I feel horrible for him. He sits down on the couch next to me.

“He got the best of me for about four seconds, but it was enough to fuck my back up pretty bad,” he laughs. Somehow still smiling even though he’s covered in dried blood-most of it not his- and his lip is busted.

“I’m sorry about that, Warren. I should have just stayed in the diner,” I shake my head as I open a gauze pad and grab the rubbing alcohol.

“But if you’d done that, you wouldn’t be sitting in my room right now,” he grins, but winces a bit. It probably hurts to smile; His cheek is bruised pretty bad.

“Yeah, but at least you wouldn’t be in pain,” I say as I pour the strong smelling alcohol onto the gauze.

“Worth it,” he smirks, resting his busted knuckles on my thigh.

“This is gonna sting,” I say, taking a deep breath. He nods, closing his eyes. I press the alcohol soaked cotton onto his split eyebrow.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts through gritted teeth, squeezing my thigh.

“I know, I know,” I pat the wound a couple more times before removing it. “I’m sorry,” I dampen another gauze pad, moving to his lip. He hisses again but allows me to clean the gash. Finally, I have him stand and turn so I can clean his shoulder. I can’t help but admire his back, running my fingers gently over the undamaged skin, leaving goosebumps behind every trace. The room is quiet, just the faint buzz of the dim overhead lights and Warrens breathing.

“Does it look bad?” he breaks the silence, looking at me over his shoulder.

“No, uh,” I clear my throat. “Sorry just uhm,” I clumsily grab a new cotton pad and the alcohol, naturally spilling it a bit, embarrassed that he caught me staring. “No, it’s not too bad,” I say as I fumble with the cotton.

“Why are you so nervous all the-“ he laughs, then I push the alcohol to his cuts. “Shit! Fuck, Y/n warn me next time!” he shouts. I wince at his loud tone as all the muscles in his back tense. I pull away, tears begin to form in my eyes. The past hour has been so stressful and him raising his voice sent me over the edge. I know he didn’t mean anything by it, that I just caught him off guard, but I can’t help how my body responded.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he quickly turns around, seemingly forgetting about the pain, bringing me into a tight hug as a couple tears roll down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” I smile up at him as he wipes the stray tear from my face. He looks so pretty, even when he’s doused in dried blood and half his face is bruised. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed… I really need to smoke,” I sigh.

“Ditto,” he agrees, pulling away. “I’m gonna shower real quick. If you could, would you grab me the icepacks out of the freezer in the kitchen? Then I’ll bust out the bong,” he winks as he walks towards the bathroom in just his blood stained jeans. I smile and nod, then turn to walk up the steps.

•

•

After locating the ice packs, I run to my car to grab my weed. I go back inside, making my way to the steps, hearing a The Offspring cd playing as I descend into the basement. I see Warren already sitting on the couch, wearing nothing but a towel, his damp dark hair stuck to his forehead.

“Hey beautiful, what took so long?” he asks as I take a seat next to him.

“Oh, I ran out to my car to grab my bud so I could match you,” I explain as I set the jar on the table, then I hold an ice pack to his cheek. “You poor thing,” I sigh. He looks much better now that he’s cleaned up, but now I can see the wounds for what they really are.

“Come on y/n, you know I’m not gonna let you match me,” he laughs, continuing to break up the weed.

“Warren, I insist. I already feel bad enough that I got you into a fight,” I open the jar, but he snatches it out of my hand.

“No,” he says sternly, looking into my eyes. “And don’t say that. You had nothing to do with the fight, that dumbass came out swinging and disrespecting you. That’s all on him,” he says seriously. I just nod, a bit intimidated by his stern tone. He grabs the lighter and the bong handing it to me,

“Ladies first,” he winks, the mood much lighter now. He takes the icepack into his own hand so I can hit the bong. He watches me as I take a big hit. The warm smoke filling my lungs quickly. I blow the milky smoke towards the ceiling, as I sink into the couch.

“What?” I giggle when I realize that Warrens still watching me.

“You’re just so pretty, I never want to take my eyes off of you,” he smiles, setting the icepack down to take the glass out of my hand, pulling a huge hit. I see his muscles relax almost instantly.

“You’re pretty too,” I chuckle, taking one more hit. It doesn’t take long to feel the effects, I feel light but heavy at the same time; like I’m floating, but my limbs are too dense to move. This is one of my favorite feelings in the world.

“I was, until I got my face banged up,” he frowns, putting his mouth to the opening of the bong.

“I don’t think it’s a bad look,” I say honestly. “I know you’re in pain, but you do look pretty badass. It’s kinda sexy actually,” I giggle, the THC clouding my brain doesn’t allow me to keep that last thought to myself. Warrens ears perk up at the word ‘sexy’. He sets the bong down, scooching closer to me, the towel wrapped around his toned torso falls a bit, exposing his V-line and a bit of brown hair right below it. The sight makes me moan internally.

“Is that so?” he smirks, his face coming closer to me.

“Mhm,” I smile, bringing my hand up to feel his bare chest. He hovers above me as I lay heavy in between the couch cushions. “Even sexier than normal,” I smile, looking at him through lidded eyes. Warren leans down, pressing his busted lip against mine, I kiss back gently.

“I’ve missed your lips,” he smiles, resting his forehead against mine.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” I ask, cupping his uninjured cheek in my hand.

“Nah, you fixed me up real good Doc,” he chuckles. “Plus, I’m pretty stoned right now. As they say, weed’s the best medicine,” he says bringing me into another kiss. I melt completely into him; This is all I’ve craved in the two weeks it’s been since I’ve seen him last.

“I’ve missed you so much, Warren,” I admit into the kiss.

“Lay down darling, I owe you for fixin’ me up,” he says helping me turn to lay down the couch.

“Warren, you should just take it easy, baby. You’ve been through a lot,” I rub my hand up and down his arm, over his silly tattoo. He smiles at the pet name, reaching for the waistband of my pants.

“I am taking it easy, beautiful. Weed might be the best medicine, but you’re a close second,” he smirks, taking my pants and underwear off in one swoop, making my stomach flip. I’m almost ashamed of how easily I become puddy in his hands. “Mmm, so pretty,” he gently runs his hands up my thighs as I spread my legs for him, he doesn’t even have to ask. I’m always ready for him.

“Warren you really don’t have-“ he places a quick kiss on lips.

“Shh, I don’t wanna hear you speak unless you’re moaning my name, okay, beautiful,” he says gently but sternly, a small smile plastered on his face. I can’t help but giggle as excitement courses through my body. I simply nod my head ‘yes’.

He slides down my body admiring me in all my glory. He gently slides a finger over my heat, watching me intently.

“Sucha pretty girl,” he coos as he settles his head between my legs. He wraps his arms around my thighs, holding them open as he begins licking at my clit, quickly earning a moan of approval from me. He gently sticks a finger inside of me as he continues working on my nub. “Does that feel good baby,” he asks against my core.

“Mhm,” I moan out, bringing a hand to hold onto his damp hair. The amount of weed in my system amplifies the pleasure by 100. He sucks gently on my bundle of nerves as his finger pumps into me, curling perfectly.

“Fuck warren,” I pant, curling my toes, my breath becomes shallow. He continues his steady pace, the pleasure winding in my stomach begging for release. I begin grinding against his face, begging for more contact as his tongue works expertly against me. He moans against my sensitive skin, sending chills down my spine.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” I come undone, gripping hard onto his hair as my hips continue to grind into his face, covering him in my release. He pulls away proudly, licking his fingers as I try to catch my breath.

“You taste just as good as you look,” he winks making me blush. He sighs happily, before grabbing the bong, taking another hit.

“That’s all I get?” I ask as he passes me the glass. He looks at me confused. I take a quick hit- not worried about the weed, I want him inside of me. I reach over, further removing the loosely draped towel covering his torso, revealing his erection.

“I was treating you, baby,” he laughs, “but if you insist,” he lays me back down on the couch once again as he presses a gentle kiss to my lips. He gives himself a couple pumps before lining himself into me, those dark bloodshot eyes gazing into mine makes my heart skip a beat.

“Fuck, I love how you stretch me out,” I moan as he pushes into me, a proud smirk appears on his bruised face.

“You feel so good, beautiful,” he grunts, grabbing my hips as he begins to thrust in and out of me. He’s so deep; I swear I can feel him poking my stomach.

“You fuck me so good warren, faster, please,” I whine, begging for more. I’m defenseless against him, the amount of pleasure he brings me is inhuman. He obeys, fucking me faster and deeper. I wrap my legs around him as he leans down, placing a sloppy kiss to my lips. “I want you to cum in me warren,” I pant against his lips, his eyes go wide. “I’m on the pill,” I giggle. “Please Warren I want to feel you cum inside me, I’ve never let anyone else do it, please,” I beg. His eyes cloud with even more lust, something I didn’t think was possible. He groans, sitting up so he can pull my hips flush against his with every thrust. He brings one hand down to play with my bundle of nerves, I’m unable to contain my noises of pleasure, moaning out his name.

“Fuck,” he groans lowly to himself as he rocks his hips into me. “Who’s pussy is this?” he asks in a deep growl, goosebumps appear on my skin. “Y/n, who’s fucking pussy is this?” he asks again as he thrusts hard hitting my g-spot perfectly.

“Fuck!” I scream. “Yours! It’s all yours Warren,” I pant desperately, my tone that of one you’d hear in a cheesy porno. His possessiveness and the way he’s hitting the deepest parts of me mixed with the weed brings me to my second orgasm of the night.

“That’s fucking right,” he growls, grabbing my face. My walls clench around him as his powerful thrusts become sloppy. I scream out his name, euphoria enveloping me as he shoots his cum deep inside me, I’ve never experienced anything as erotic as him fucking his seed into me as it leaks out of my throbbing cunt onto his couch. Warren pulls out reluctantly, his legs visibly shaking. I lay limp in the same spot, trying to steady my breathing and stop my own legs from shaking.

“Are you okay?” he laughs helping me sit up.

“Yeah,” I giggle. “I’ve just never been fucked like-“ I stop when I see his lip gushing blood. “Warren, baby, your lips bleeding again,” I stand up quickly to find the gauze, I ignore his cum that begins to run down my thigh.

“Leave it” he waves his hand, laying back on the couch. “I feel too good to care,” he laughs. “Come lay with me,” he pats the couch. I pick up an alcohol soaked cotton pad, then sit next to him.

“Let me clean this first,” I say. He nods reluctantly, hissing as the pad hits his lip. The bleeding stops soon. “You need to put some antibacterial ointment on that. Mouth abrasions can get infected really easily,” I begin to explain.

“You should break up with your boyfriend,” he blurts out. I don’t think he was listening to anything I said. He stares at me nervously awaiting my response.

“I know I should,” I sigh, he reaches over to the coffee table handing me my phone. “What? Now?” I ask shocked. He nods his head.

“I want you to be mine, all mine. I can’t go another two weeks without seeing you, having you too busy with that douche to see me, and I sure as fuck don’t want anyone else touching you like I just did,” he pours his heart out, not dropping my gaze once. I look away, biting my lip. He’s right, as always. I belong with him; Anyone can see that.

“Well, at least wait until the morning,” I sigh looking back at him. “I mean you did just beat the shit of the guy and cum in his girlfriend, isn’t that enough for one night,” I smile lightly, not sure how he’ll feel about the idea.

“If you stay with me tonight, and do it very first thing in the morning, then I’ll agree,” he offers with a small smile. I agree, cuddling into his side. He lays a kiss on my forehead.

I should feel guilty, but I don’t, not towards Dakota at least. I feel guilty about getting Warren hurt, but my bitch ass boyfriend had it coming. I’ve finally found someone who cares about me, and I refuse to lose that, even if this is just a fling.

[bringmemyqueen]

haikyuu ot3+ week: day 5 - road trip

[e1ygo]

SONG SHOT / SONG FIC

Preface: Prohero! Au (basically aged up) of ShinKami

Warnings: theres a kiss, some suggestive;) wording but nothing super explicit, swearing, little jealous!shinsou, no beta we die like men

Boyfren by Love Leo (ShinKami)

crossposted w AO3 (link here)

—————

He leans back, casually . His hands work the stick shift of his old jeep as they cruise down the highway to the beach cliffs. The “ best ” friends spent every weekend they could at their spot in the midst of busy Pro Hero schedules.

The violet haired Adonis glances at his boy , “You should break up with your boyfriend, D.”

Kaminari cocks an eyebrow at the driver, his mouth slightly gaped. His eyes wander over the other’s face, trying to get a read on the smug expression he currently makes. Shinsou focuses his attention on shifting gears.

The golden boy lets his eyes perform an apodyopsis, mentally imagining his partner with less clothing. “What boyfriend, 'Toshi?” As the Jeep clicks into park, his eyes finally make contact with the violet ones next to him.

This time, Shinsou's jaw drops slightly. "You mean you aren't fucking Sero?"

Kaminari busts out laughing, and wipes a fake tear. “Oh that’s hilarious. I mean, yeah, we’ve kissed several times and fooled around once or twice but it’s been years. Hah! You know that I spend more time now with Todoroki working than I do with Hanta ever, right?! I haven’t seen Hanta in person outside of drinks with the Bakusquad.” While he spoke, Shinsou visibly relaxed into the door and angled slightly more towards the electric blonde.

That’s the moment when something in Kaminari clicks.

“Hitoshi…” He pauses when Shinsou’s eyes snap into contact with his. “Are you jealous? Of the thought of me and Hanta together?” Kaminari props his chin on his hand and rests on the center console. “Hmm?”

A light pink blush washes over Shinsou’s cheeks when the violet boy avoids eye contact with the ball of sunshine sitting even closer to him than before.

The silence weighs on them in a way that tells them both the answer before Shinsou gives a small nod.

The actual confirmation of the idea is what flusters Kaminari. “I- Wait what? I- I- Actually?”

“Denki, I’ve liked you since UA, you dork.” Shinsou put a hand to the back of his head sheepishly.

“Really?!” The ball of eletricity’s eyes widen as he just stares at Shinsou slowly inching towards him.

“Hey Denki?” Shinsou sets himself on the middle console, mirroring the hand face prop position that Kaminari is in.

Kaminari hums a response as his eyes watch Shinsou’s flicker from eye contact and down and back up.

“Can I kiss you, D?”

Shinsou doesn’t receive a verbal confirmation. No, he receives a physical one from Kaminari’s lips attaching onto his. The kiss is electric. Pun definitely intended. The years of tension crackling just from a connection. It’s rough but soft, the two easily find a rhythm after years of knowing how the other just function. They can feel the sparks between them. Quite literally. Shinsou half squeaks and half moans when Kaminari accidently sends several volts through his lips with his quirk.

Kaminari pulls back and stammers out an “I- I’m sorry, ‘T-toshi!”

But the tall boy just shows a dimple and a small smile. He shakes his head at the smaller of the two. “D, I've been hit harder by your quirk; plus, I like a little pain." He cheekily gives a smirk and winks at him. "Now come over here.”

Hitoshi pushes his seat back and Kaminari climbs over to straddle his lap. Shinsou lightly runs his hands over Kaminari’s thighs to his ass. The smaller of the boys squeaks when the bigger roughly grabs his ass.

"You're mine, now, kitten."

Kaminari almost short circuits.

[royal-writer]

minis

Fierce brooding honorable nobleman who looks clean-cut and sharp af- make him Supreme Cute n Nerdy Crush/Boyfren/Husband 😭👍

Energy warped and rippled around the flickering transparent veil that surrounded Essätha. Her own power surged; a violent aura of dark iris lashing out as she flung her arm out. What started as a whisper ended in a shout of chanted foreign words; hurtling acid at the nearest shadow.

The magic whipped wild in the air. Untamed. A tornado of colors and swirls of mist dancing along fingertips as she blasted a wave of pure arcana at the next force to step up.

A burning air sizzled the air to Essie’s right as it burst through her bubbled shield. She cast a glance to the ranger; already preparing another arrow meant for the other sorceress to her left.

The divine darkness pulsed around her. She raised her hand; curling it in the air in a gesture as wisps coiled out from her fingertips.

“Fireball!”

Her words faltered. Not because of the warning, but because of the sudden force hitting her from behind.

Her hands and knees tried to catch her descent, but it was no use. The weight upon her back had her sprawled out in the dust; coughing violently. From the corner of her vision, Essätha could make out the splash of the explosive combustion that struck the ground nearby. Whatever lay on top of her flinched slightly; covering her backside as the flames raced across the area.

A breath; warm and gentle, washed over the back of her neck, drawing shivers. The pressure of another body settling against her own lifted; leaving her sucking in a shaky gasp of air.

“Are you alright?”

Did she look alright; she wanted to demand. Her palms ached; likely bleeding from the rough surface of the ground. Her knees much the same. And her hair was covered with dust and falling loose of her bun. She scowled slightly, turning her head around at an angle to berate the speaker.

Tragically horrible idea.

Why did he have to have such a beautiful face? And those eyes, heavens above, they pulled at her heartstrings. Dark and charming with knitted concern of his eyebrows run low as he looked over her features.

His gaze snapped away with a grunt of surprise, patting at the creeping embers scorching the edge of his cloak.

Thank the gods, it gave her time to breathe again. Her heart desperately wishful to see his eyes again so  close. So mesmerizingly close that she could see her reflection as something worthy and wonderful; that she could see the light of a million warming stars upon her. Most of all that she could see the pieces of a man in all his praise and greatness. Halos of the aurora in his eyes that looked a lot like what she’d imagine to be that of heaven, all residing within the shape of his gaze, the part in his open mouth, the angles of his cheekbones, the scruff of his beard, the quirk in his brow that rose against his forehead with the longer strands looming low.

She could scold herself for being so stricken. If this was anyone else, the first remark would not be to stare stupidly and openly at them: it would have been to tease them about the proximity.

Hell under less dangerous circumstance, she’d be tempted to tease a grind of her ass into them or coping a quick feel if it was the right kind of environment and right kind of person.

It didn’t even cross her mind.

What did cross her mind; racing faster than lightning streaking the sky as battlecries rang and people danced in the heat of a fight, was simply how utterly, illegally gorgeous he was.

And the numbing sight of him cursing as he patted out the flames that he’d been so concerned to strike her that he’d covered her.

When his eyes moved to hear; alarm brewing with brave determination in a match for dominance, she could swear her world tilted and righted strangely before her vision.

“I’m fine, m’lord Amon,” she acknowledged; taking his extended hand as he helped her to her feet. Aware of the dryness of his palms, and just how gentle they were with the stinging pain of her own.

Oh… Palms. He wasn’t wearing his gloves.

“Thanks to you,” Essie added; a swift smile in place as she stepped around him to add in back-up to the allies who stepped forward in their place.

From her peripherals, she caught sight of the nobleman’s marveling regard before he was out of view.

It gave her that little extra zip of encouragement to blast her way efficiently through the rest of the fight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“You look spectacular today, my dear.”

“And you look so handsome my beloved.”

A quiet series of giggles followed as Amon pressed his lips lightly to her cheek. It trailed to her mouth; brushing there and over to the scales on her cheek. Back again to the tip of her nose, and over her forehead.

For a man with such rough hands and who laid his stern expression card facing up most of the time, he sure as stars smiled with the radiance like it had always been there. Touched with grace and tender care; holding lightly to her hands in front of her.

A bubbling eagerness swam in her chest. Like champagne with sunlight filtering in all those bubbles; it left her feeling drunk with joy and floating among clouds scorched with the sun’s rays. Warmth spilled into her chest and unfurled the petals of her soul so endearingly.

Bouncing on her heels as she took an eager breath, Essie reached up spontaneously to hold to his face. Grinning against his tiny smooches, her fingertips grazing through his tamed whiskers as she pulled him in closer and swiftly changed the angle of her face to match his and meet his lips. A devious little grin playing across her features as he grunted with some surprise.

The airy, cheerful rise in his laughter was quite possibly better than the tender, sweetened and simple kiss returned in a gentle press of his lips to hers.

“Ooh eewwwww,” Rava shrieked; pointedly thrusting a finger in their direction for all to see. “Why don’t you two get a room!”

Caught off guard by the proclamation, Amon pulled away from her. It left her to follow his gaze; staring back at the members of their band of misfit group.

Essätha flicked her glance from them to her rather dashing lover. Stains of red were crawling over his features with embarrassment at having been caught snogging so pubically for their peers to catch them. Such a youthful, reckless action. Certainly not something to be expected of a nobleman.

Certainly not something someone would think to see of such a poised, older gentleman nobleman who liked to have his cuffs folded so proper and his collars crisp. Ever so dignified; most importantly in the public eye.

“They’ll go away,” Essie scowled; throwing a cross look their way as she gently urged him back.

She was certain by the way his eyes kept tracking back to the others that the romantic mood was most certainly squashed now. The embers no more beneath Ravamora’s rowdy little boot.

To her pleasant surprise, Amon raised the side of his cloak up to block their view, cupped his free hand lightly beneath her chin.

“Come ‘ere,” he whispered, continuing right where they’d left off between her series of giggles and the affectionate tenderness of his lips.

Abernathy chuckled, lightly prodding Adela with an elbow at his side.

“I remember when I couldn’t keep my hands off Haymitch for more than a few minutes either,” he sighed with longing.

A choked noise of amusement wheezed out of the tiefling.

“Yeah Abe, okay. We’ll pretend you weren’t pawing at Haymitch the other day at the corner of the bar. Nobody definitely saw that.”

A deep-sea turquoise color burned in the man’s face.

“It was the ale! You spiked it with an aphrodisiac!”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, old boy.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“… and this is my wife, Lady Essätha Medüza Illiad.”

Perplexed, Essie passed her husband a questioning look. She quickly flitted her gaze back to the woman, murmuring a few words as she reached out to shake her hand politely.

When she was certain the conversation was sidetracked, she gently nudged her husband’s side. He turned his attention to her; a puzzled but loving smile.

“M’lord, Briarton turned out in flocks for our wedding. I’m fairly certain the introduction is not necessary; everyone knows we are wed.”

A mirthful little twinkle entered the nobleman’s eye, and he leaned in close. The strength of his hand coasted over her side before settling on her lower back, where it presented a delicious warmth.

“Is there a problem with my introductions, my Lady?” Amon cheerily inquired.

“Well… no…” she admitted, crooking her mouth down in a curious frown.

His side pressed into hers. Blissful heat from the sun humming into her veins; searing into her as it exuded off of him. A sigh of contentment escaped her as he inclined his head closer to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Then won’t you allow me the honor of introducing you?” he murmured softly; lingering beside her ear. It crafted little shivers all over her frame; raising goosebumps.

She huffed, screwing up her mouth. The cocky little side smirk he had going on was all too proud of himself.

“Tsk- fine,” Essätha sighed.

Judging by the way his face lit up, he seemed to quite like her answer.

And that was good enough for her.

- -

months later…

“… and this is my wife, Lady Essätha Medüza Illiad.”

Baffled, Essie looked from the confused look of the man up to her husband.

“Amon,” she chided, “This individual was a guest at our wedding!”

He grinned. A foolishly delighted grin from ear to ear. Never skipping a beat, as he ignored her squinting eyes and the confused but polite look on the man’s face to dive into conversation.

She rolled her eyes while looking away, and sighed. Part of her wondered if he’d simply forgotten the poor soul had been there.

- -

months later…

“… and this is my wife, Lady Essätha Medüza Illiad.”

At this rate, she did not try to correct him. She did not open her mouth, which twitched slightly from the curve of the smile as she caught the uncertain look on the person. They scanned between her and Amon as he spoke, seemingly trying to make sense on why that statement was placed there.

She had yet to figure out the game, herself.

- -

months later…

“… and this is my wife, Lady Essätha Medüza Illiad.”

“Oh for goodness sake my love!” Essie cried, knocking her elbow into his side. “This is Sul you’re talking to! You’ve known him as long as I have! He was at our wedding! He was a groomsmen! Don’t take me as a fool, you don’t need to-”

Lightly, Amon placed a finger over her lips. It stalled her; eyes narrowed despite his beaming complexion.

To her left, in the corner of her gaze, she could make out Sulhadur’s smile. A softened gaze, his shoulders slack.

“Do you really think I introduce you as such to deprecate you, my darling Essätha?” the Illiad heir whispered; his voice humble and soft.

She stared deeply into his eyes. Screwing up her mouth beneath the tender pressure of his finger, they moved off to the side as she mused his question.

Every time… every single time…

A rise of heat fanned over her features, and she raised a shy glance back up to him. A pleading of forgiveness in her gaze unspoken as her lips quivered.

He smiled with all the wondrous beauty she adored, and leaned down to brush aside strands of ebony hair from her forehead to place a kiss gently upon her as tears welled up in her eyes.

- -

months later…

“… and this is my wife, Lady Essätha Medüza Illiad.”

The man looked positively bewildered. He turned a helpless gaze to Essie for guidance; watching as she linked her arm around his. There was a knowing glimmer in her eyes now.

Just as she recognized the man before her; a man she’d met many times. An old business consult of Amon’s.

“Don’t mind him,” she gushed, pressing in to his side. “Any opportunity he has to string together the phrase ‘my wife Essätha’ to anyone, he simply has to do so.”

There was a slight swelling in Amon’s chest with pride. It made her face glow, catching the way he glanced to her.

Despite the company; who still appeared somewhat unsure of this strange custom, Essätha raised up on her toes and placed a loving kiss against his cheek.

The way his hand sought for hers; embraced her fingers between their linked arms as he stared at her with adoration, was all her heart needed to find a reason to beat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She could hear the soft clicking of glasses and vials from the other room. It caused her pause, as she sat aside the book she’d only just propped open to the marked page last read. A quizzical frown approaching her features as she tilted her head and leaned in the direction of the sound.

Placing the book down, she followed the noise with tugging curiosity.

The door to the room wasn’t closed fully, so Essie felt confident she wasn’t being too much of a sneak prying. With a delicate hand to the smooth finish of the door, she pushed it open to glimpse within.

A smile upturned her lips swiftly. Resting her weight on one foot, a hip bumped out as she lightly crossed her arms in front of her chest. Propping her back against the doorframe, Essätha observed with a sense of pride and fulfillment as her husband organized the set of ingredients in neat and orderly rows. Each was spaced precisely apart and in the order they’d be added to the small cauldron he had setting upon a burner. To the other side of that was a mortar and pestle; presumably with already a numbered set of items to be ground within it.

Amon’s focus seemed completely transfixed on his work. Flipping through the pages of a volume before him, a finger trailed the weathered paper delicately. He gave a small nod to himself, reaching to grab a vile containing a corked set of dried herbs.

Fate, if one were to believe such a thing, had been kind to her in the end after all. Setting her along a path; a choice to meet his man. Brilliant and clever and strong; filled with a gentle compassion he’d hidden behind his walls for so long.

She wouldn’t have it any other way. Couldn’t possibly dream of any other. Had no desire to change a single bit of him; all the layers of who he was be they brilliant and sterling like lustrous gold or dark and dreary. He was charmingly perfect just how he was, faded scars and all. Handsome beyond reason; intelligent and thoughtful and oh so darling.

Essätha startled a bit as he looked up to her. She’d been careful not to make much noise when entering. Drat- was it the light that gave her away?

Amon stared at her however, in a way that made her wonder if he’d felt her coming long before she’d made it to the door.

He smiled; making her heart stammer, and ushered a hand as he remarked: “Would you mind coming over here, my dear? I need you.”

For a moment, her eyes cast out of the room and back to him. A bit timid by the phrasing, she strode across the room to meet him. There was a whispered elegance in the way she moved; light and smooth with hands clasped in front of herself.

Stopping close to her beloved’s side, she swept a gaze across his worktable.

“What do you need me to-”

A hand anchored to her waist, pulling her in closer as lips met her temple.

Her entire body trembled in response, gasping.

“Mmm… I’m sorry for startling you with the misunderstanding,” he murmured, reaching up to stroke curls of hair from the side of her face. “I just caught a glimpse of you, my beautiful wife, standing in the doorway and my heart just about burst.”

Flushed, Essätha cleared her throat as Amon leaned in closer, lingering his lips against her jawline.

“So, you do not need me?” she stated with some hesitant confusion, ending in a hazy giggle at the end.

The arm wrapped around her petite frame tightened; dragging her in closer.

“Oh no; make no mistake, my beautiful Essätha: I always need you.”

Oh the damn flatterer! Her heart did flips and somersaults at his sweet nothings as she squirmed, laughing quietly as he sneaked light kisses along her jaw towards her mouth.

“Oooh m’lord Amon,” Essie breathed; beaming from ear to ear. “I love you too, you cunning trickster.”

The curving smile of his mouth held to hers briefly; lightly, before he reached along the crest shape of her cheek and encouraged her closer.

Molding her to the most perfect, heart-soaring kiss she’d ever known.

[carraville]

thx @zevons​ 4 talkin to me about this and giving me Ideas and ending up writing this shit in the miDDLE OF MY ESSAY CRISIS 

also for @blindbatalex​ who I did promise stuff abt gaz awkwardly thanking carra for being such a supportive boyfren uwu

It isn't like coming home, really, not the way he thought it would be. Everything seems tilted, off-balance; Gary notices bits and pieces like how they've done up a new poster, or how they've moved Jamie's parking spot two down. He's just walking towards it when Jamie's car pulls up and Jamie gets out, and it's almost a breath of relief that escapes his mouth. For all the way he's sharpened up since the first year - better ties, sharper shoes - he is still very much the same Scouse bastard who once yelled at him to fuck off and die in a fire on a sunny derby day, and Gary appreciates that. Perhaps a little more than he should.

Jamie's face changes when he sees him; Gary notices the flicker of bewilderment shift to brief, undiluted delight, and then back to the knowing smirk that they have both spent years perfecting. They've only met once in the past few months, after Barcelona. There's still a bitterness to the word as he thinks it. Jamie had been Jamie then too, his arm around Gary without saying anything, easing the tiredness with his familiarity.

"Hi," Gary says.

Jamie raises an eyebrow.

"Not seen me for ages and all you can say is 'hi'."

"Well, what would you like me to say?" Gary flushes, his brows knitting together. It's barely been five seconds and Jamie's already got him on the wind-up. Jamie laughs.  

"Nothing." There's a fondness in his voice that Gary both loves and hates in equal measure, and there's a twinge to his smile that makes Gary inhale and exhale again, like he knows it's going to be fine. "You don't have to say anything at all."

They walk into the building side by side, Jamie close enough just so that Gary's shoulder brushes his every once in a while. "Happy Monday, boss," one of the technicians says with a wink and a snide grin. Gary smiles. The corridors are littered with people who are eager to clap him on the back, almost as if Spain didn't exist in this alternate universe.

David shakes his hand and introduces himself with the sort of reverence that will soon disappear after a couple of pints. Then it's off to the clips room and Gary loses himself in the cutting, feeling it come back to him like salvation. They load some of it onto the big screen for the preview and Gary's very aware of the way Jamie keeps smiling at him. It's the long, languid one that reminds Gary of cups of coffee in the morning and sitting on benches for eighteen months. A sort of can't-help-it-ness to it all, a feeling of falling that's so obvious that Gary would have hit him if he didn't know that this was what Jamie was like. Heart on his sleeve. Haven't looked at anyone like that since Gary left.

He calls him out on it, of course, because he knows it'll get under Jamie's skin. David laughs and says, "he's just happy to have you back." Jamie flushes and looks down, but he can't seem to stop smiling, all shy and dorky like a teenager once more. Gary hates a little bit how easy it comes to him. He'd seen Jamie's appearance on League of Their Own, of course, the way Jamie answered 'love him' immediately, without having to pause and think about how strong a word it was. He wonders if what Jamie means and what he thinks it means are the same thing.

They're sitting in the Soccer AM lounge as they always do before the show and Jamie leans over to give him a nudge in the shoulder. "Hey," he says, almost like he's genuinely concerned. "You okay?"

Gary must have been staring into space again. "Yeah." He looks down at his hands, and then turns to Jamie. "No."

It's hard for him even to get that admission out, and even when he's said it he blinks like he wants to take it back. He's Gary Neville - he doesn't admit things, not least to Professional Co-Workers - emotions aren't things that are supposed to exist in his dictionary. Then again neither was Jamie Carragher. And Jamie is looking at him the way he does, all intent and earnest and caring.

It makes Gary uncomfortable, a little bit. It's hard to keep up the whole banterous rivals who still hate each other thing when one of them so clearly doesn't. Jamie probably does it on purpose. The bastard.

"You'll be fine." Jamie gives him an encouraging grin. "Honest. At least this is something you've done before. Not well, but y'know."

Gary scoffs, a bit of colour coming back into his cheeks. "Better than you."

"You wish. I held down the fort while you abandoned me and the kids for your summer fling, I've gotten pretty good at this."

There it is again. Gary turns red and Jamie looks over, a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

"Thanks, Carra."

"No worries."

"And - " this one's doubly hard, but it has to be said; Gary can't count the number of times Phil knocked on his door in Valencia, grinning like an absolute tool, another article clutched in his hands. The I'll miss hims written between the lines of he'll always be a good pundit. He wishes he knew when they had gotten to that stage, that he could tell exactly what Jamie was thinking without him even being there. "Thanks for, y'know. The back-up. The. Um. Belief."

It's Jamie's turn to look awkward and he rubs the back of his neck as if reaching for something to do. "Ah, y'know," he says off-hand, scuffing the floor with his shoes. "They were giving you a lot of stick. And that's my job."

"Still." Gary tilts his head and sort of makes a little hand gesture, as if that could convey everything. Jamie's eyes are searching as he stares, and then in the calculated balance of seriousness and banter that he seems to have mastered over their three years together, he says:

"Love ya, ya daft twat."

Gary's brain might have short-circuited. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, and Jamie thinks this immensely funny. "Don't worry," he rolls his eyes, standing up and heading for the door. "I know you can't say the L-word because you're an emotionally repressed Manc. But I do mean it."

Then he leaves, and Gary stares at the door not knowing what to think.

The show goes better than expected; David is nervous but hides it well and Jamie is at the peak of his gleeful rubbing-it-in prowess. Gary thinks he comes off it all right, even managing to squeeze in a crack at Jamie before the night's out. And then David asks him about Jamie and management.

Gary wants to make another joke. It's all laid out for him, and all he has to do is pick and choose the easiest duck shoot: as long as it's not in Spain, Spaniards trying to speak English, a Scouser trying to speak English; the only thing he'd be able to coach them in is own goals; as long as they're happy with not winning the league for twenty years.

Which is why he chooses, instead, to say, "he's got the right type of brain for it."

Jamie blinks. And he keeps on blinking as Gary talks, his surprise mirroring Gary's own. Shakes his head ever so slightly when Gary says "he'll get bored of sitting here next to you and me". Smiles a little bit, as if he understands what Gary's trying to tell him, about trust and belief and gratitude, without having to say the L-word out loud.

After the show they walk back to their cars together, still close enough that Gary can feel Jamie's shoulder through his jacket. Jamie's car is closer and Gary follows him there before turning away, but Jamie catches his sleeve.

"Thanks," he says. "For the belief."

Gary gives him a small smile.

"No worries. I figured no one else was going to do it."

Jamie rolls his eyes even then. "And, um." He coughs out a laugh, though they both know it's his way of pretending. "That thing I said. I know it's a strong word. I won't say it again."

"But you do," Gary sighs like he finds it annoying. Jamie smirks.

"Unfortunately."

Gary stands in the middle of the carpark and watches Jamie drive off, heart still on his sleeve, and feels his own begin to leak a little bit, red dripping down his arm and pooling in his clenched fist. He waits till Jamie turns at the end of the road and then it's all quiet, just him and the sliver of moonlight that flashes through the trees.

"I do too, you know," he says.

[bringmemyqueen]

daichi just wants to watch the movie in peace

[bringmemyqueen]

strong eyebrow game boyfrensss