#look at the bruises on his shoulder and the lacing on his vest

[drewpunk]

summerslam postshow - 8/3/24

[loveshotzz]

Hi hi babes 🖤🦇

May I pretty please request ☆ { licking } their neck to make them gasp with our Stevie?

Thank you 🥰

Hi my sweet sweet Drac 🖤 I would love nothing more than to give you what you want.

steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ Co workers to lovers, Mentions of drinking at a party, dry humping, hickey giving, uh-oh did you make Steve cum in his pants? :(

You weren’t supposed to give into Steve Harrington, you promised yourself you wouldn’t after your first day at Family Video when he laid it on thick with the kind of flirting that would have gotten him anything he wanted in high school but you knew better now and his own confidence had gotten knocked down a few pegs over the years. The problem was he could tell you liked it, because as much as you hated to admit it, you did. Steve caught the twist of your lips that you were always trying to hide when he’d tell you how cute you looked every time you walked into work even on the days it was just a t-shirt and jeans. You never told him to stop, even when he’d ‘jokingly’ ask you out to dinner after every close. It was always a shy smile and a roll of your eyes with a ‘shut up Steve’.

So how’d you end up straddling his lap in the basement at one of Rick’s parties that you didn’t even want to go to with his bottom lip between your teeth? You blame Robin Buckley and her incessant need to take multiple shots in a row to ‘get it over with’, and then abandoning you as soon as Nancy arrived leaving you with the boy you’ve been trying not to relent to and his reaction to your skirt all night.

Steve’s fingers dig bruising indentations into the soft dough of your hips when you let his lip go with a wet pop, watching it snap back into place even more swollen and pink than before from under your lashes. The mossy forest of his eyes is taken over black, pupils blown wide half hidden by heavy lids as he looks up at you with hair even messier than its normal disarray with your hands as the culprits. Your skirt sits rucked up just enough for him to see the blush pink lace of your panties underneath that match the dusting on his cheeks, and the wet patch that you know will leave a mark on the light wash denim of his jeans the more you grind against him. He lifts his hips up as he pulls you forward, gliding you over the inseam of his zipper with just the right amount of pressure against your clit to have you gasp. He feels even bigger than you imagined, bigger than all the stories you’d heard from other girls.

A cocky lopsided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth pushing up the cheek with the two moles that look like a vampire bit the apple of it, traces of pink from your gloss still linger on them and the glitter coating shimmers in the low light. He tilts his head back to look up at you, the thick expanse of his neck exposed along with the sharpness of his jaw. The new angle reveals a mess of freckles you’d only dared to let yourself look at from afar. Glitterless and bruisless, a blank canvas that taunts you.

Leaning forward your hands find a home on his chest, while his fingers spread wide over the curve of your ass. The tips of them daring to slide along the bottoms of your panties. His pecs twitch against your palms from under the thick fabric of his navy polo that fits snug over his broad shoulders, almost like it's a size too small just like his jeans and just like his vest at work. Steve Harrington knew what he was doing. Of course he did.

Tequila and pineapple are sweet on your breath, mixing with the peach of your gloss in a way that makes him impatient to collect them in a kiss again when the tip of your nose traces up the straight bridge of his. It leaves your lips just a chin tilt away from him if he really wanted but his dark eyes flick down to the growing wet patch between your thighs instead, grabbing handfuls of the soft fat of your ass to encourage you to grind harder.

“S’pretty you know that?” He groans bucking up when your hips oblige him, the tip of his cock fighting with the inseam of his jeans, pushing into the silk of your underwear making an even bigger mess of you. “Too damn pretty, honey. Could stare at you all day, fuck - I do.”

“Steve!” The way you giggle his name makes his teeth flash in the kind of smile that has you feeling like the flustered girls you see leave the counter at work.

“What? It’s true, can’t keep my eyes off you.” He sits up, straightening his back with big hands that pull you up with him.

The new position has your chests pressed, the length of him rubbing along your clit with enough pressure to make you whine and god does he need you to do it again. Grunting he starts his hunt for another with lips that find the hollow of your throat, smirking against your skin when your fingers tangle in his hair. You wanted to give it to him.

“I didn’t think you were gonna give me a chance,” His babbling doesn’t stop, especially when your hips start to circle, “you were playin’ so hard to get baby, but I’m patient when I really want something.”

“We work together Steve -“ You try to argue with a shaky breath, lashes fluttering closed as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. The springs of the couch starting to squeak under your movements, too close to care about holding back any more. “It could get messy, you know? - Shit.”

He hums like he understands with your earlobe sucked into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a pop before his eyes meet your heavy gaze with a mischievous glint that only stokes the flames he’s lit across your body, licking every inch of your skin.

“I don’t know,” The corners of his mouth twist up in a grin snapping the elastic band of your panties “seems pretty messy now.”

His tongue traces your top lip, while his fingers find purchase wrapped around your hips. Tan skin pulls taut over his knuckles using his strength to bring your hips down on him harder, a deep groan rumbling from his chest when you tug at the thick locks of his auburn hair from the roots.

“That’s not what I - “ Your lips connect for a moment, tongues meeting briefly before you pull away with a huff, “that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The tip of his nose bumps with yours, his breath fanning across your face in a mixture of leftover peach gloss and the whiskey he opted for instead upstairs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” He asks with another roll of his hips relishing in the way it makes your jaw go slack with a smirk, “We get paid to have sex? Big woop.”

“Is that how you think it’s gonna be?” Your bottom lip meets his top when the question comes out, your eyes meeting his from down the slope of your nose.

“Maybe,” He wiggles his eyebrows with a chuckle that hits hot against your throat, “If you want, after I take you out on a date of course.”

“Oh we’re going on dates now too?” Grinning with a tilt of your head, you think about stealing a kiss that he’s eager to give.

One of his hands leaves your hip, the warmth of it coming up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates”

He closes the little space between you, finally stealing what you’ve been teasing him with. His mouth moves with yours like he’s sure of himself, tongues meeting in a slow dance instead of a battle for dominance. His other arm wraps around your waist, biceps that are just as strong as they look pulling you closer, caging you in with another buck of his hips. The whine he’s been trying to get out of you starts to tease him from the back of your throat, the beginnings of it making his lips twitch against yours in a cocky way, even when he knows he’s dangerously close to needing a new pair of pants.

He’s not expecting one of your hands to come up and pinch the sharp edges of his jaw between two red painted fingers, or the way you start to control the kiss and Steve starts being the one to writhe underneath you at whatever mercy you want to give him. Truly, he doesn’t want any.

Now it’s him who whines when you pull away, your kiss swollen sticky lips finding the familiar path to his cheek. Another glittering trail of pink that leads down under his jaw where you nip just like he did to you.

“Honey,”

The pet name comes out like a warning when your tongue swipes across sweat slick skin. The tip of your nose nudging behind his ear with a smirk. Your hips circle with purpose now, not the wild abandon from before, feeling the way it makes him twitch in his jeans. He shudders when you lick the length of his neck, teeth scraping along the protruding vein as his arm tightens its hold, the palm of his hand curling around the back of your neck.You hum in approval, lips wrapping around where your teeth just were before sucking hard.

He groans your name loud enough you’re sure someone upstairs heard him, eyes rolling in the back of his head and toes curling in his sneakers as his hips buck up meeting the roll of yours. You know it’s going to be enough to leave his sun kissed skin lilac and blush when you’re done, but he doesn’t seem to care when the hard tip of him that threatens to bust through the seam of his jeans keeps hitting your bundle of nerves over and over again.

Steve’s head falls against the back of the couch, eyes pinching shut opening himself up more for you while his hips stutter. You feel the warmth of him flood between your legs. A string of curse words spilling from his lips, when your own release has your body freezing on top of him, thighs closing tight around his and an open mouth to his neck in a silent scream.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath with the bass of the music that vibrates the walls from upstairs. A content hum from your lips breaks the silence when he rubs his hand down your spine, nails scratching softly as he goes.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates.” He finally huffs out in a laugh, earning the giggle that he liked so much as his ‘yes.’

[ladylexis]

I Think You Know

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader, afab

Trope: Best friend's brother, friends to more

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: A little suggestive, but not smutty

The pungent scent of lilacs always reminds you of home. You inhale deeply, hands shoved in your pockets, as you walk up the street a couple blocks to your best friend Jina's house. 

After months of studying hard on the other side of the country, you've returned home for the first time since starting college last fall. Jina's spring break coincided with yours, so of course she begged you to fly home to finally catch up. Laughing until you cry on video calls into the wee hours of the morning each weekend has helped soothe your loneliness, yet nothing compares to the real deal of being in your best friend's presence. 

The refreshing chill of the evening air does little to calm your nerves, though. Even greater than your excitement to see Jina is your anxiety at the prospect of running into her brother, Minho. 

After almost two years of studying abroad and traveling for internships, Minho is back at his parents' house for the first time. You've kept up with your best friend's older brother some over the years, mostly butting in when he called Jina. 

Since he left, you've occasionally engaged with each other's Instagram posts. Whether silly, artistic, or merely mundane, Minho's photos almost always bring a bittersweet clench to your chest. When you see his figure framed off-center in front of glittering cityscapes or sunset-tinged coastlines you can't help but picture yourself tucked under his arm, your head resting casually on his shoulder. 

_____

Since you can remember, Minho was a fixture in your life. While playing on the swing set in their backyard, his protective presence always kept an eye on his little sister and you, her closest friend. Minho was quick to help you up after a less than graceful jump from the swing, smirking at the glasses askew on your nose. Unphased, you spun around to push Jina's swing even higher as he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

As teens, Minho laughed ruthlessly while playing paintball, chasing you and Jina around their shed. She sought refuge at the back of the old pickup while you made a run for the oak tree to get a better vantage point.

Before you could dive behind the sturdy tree trunk, Minho managed to squeeze a shot off. The fierce glare hidden behind his facemask instantly melted into a softer expression the moment you yelped in pain while taking his round to your back, just missing the padding of your vest.

After rushing to the kitchen to fetch an ice pack, Minho returned to the living room to find you sitting on the couch, contorting in an effort to see the source of the pain. Ever the attentive gentleman, he offered to inspect the growing welt to see if your skin was broken. You nodded and turned to face the back of the sofa, gritting your teeth and trying not to focus on the stinging pain radiating from the minor injury. Minho considerately lifted your sweatshirt just enough to check the raised bump at the base of your shoulder blade. 

Chilled slightly from grabbing the ice pack, his cool fingertips innocently grazed your skin causing a warmth to spread through your chest. Minho drew in a quick breath, hand tightening its grip on the bundled fabric for a moment. Fearing the wound must look worse than you thought, you stuttered out a quick, "Is it that bad?!"

But before you could finish the question, he had quickly lowered the hem of your top and reached over your shoulder to shove the ice pack into your hands. 

"It's just bruised," he mumbled as he abruptly turned to head upstairs, taking them two at a time. 

A sharp sting brought your attention back to the predicament at hand. As you struggled to position the ice pack on the welt, you suddenly recalled that you were only wearing your black lace bralette under your sweatshirt. Mortified, you instinctively planted your face in the couch cushion to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. Just then, Jina stormed into the front door. Thinking she was winning for once, she finally realized she was left alone outside and came looking for the two of you. 

Ready to give you a piece of her mind, worry quickly replaced anger as Jina set her eyes on your crumpled form tucked into the corner of the couch. You reassured her that the welt was already feeling better thanks to Minho's quick rescue with the ice pack. Speaking of her brother, she asked where he had disappeared to. You weren't quite sure of the answer yourself, but you wondered for years afterwards if he had felt that same lick of heat in the moment.

_____

You skip up the familiar steps to Jina's front porch, and pause to take a deep breath in an effort to still your fluttering heart. Before you can even knock, the door flies open and Jina launches at you. She wraps you in a bear hug and hops to twine her legs around your hips. Squealing at a pitch you're sure would send her family's three cats into a frenzy, Jina peppers the side of your head with smooches and repeats how much she missed you. 

"Let her go before she passes out. She's already turning red!" 

Raising your eyes from Jina's embrace, you see him there, standing in the door frame. Although you can't quite make out his expression while he's silhouetted by the living room light flooding out the front door, Minho's eyes still manage to sparkle just like you remember. And it's back. Your crush on Minho tightens its tendrils around your heart. If only he knew the real reason your face was on fire.

Jina drops her feet to the ground with a pout. She turns to head inside, dragging you by the wrist and shouldering her annoying brother out of the way in the process. As you pass him you manage to squeak out a soft, "Hi, Min." 

"Nice to see you again, too!" he yells with increasing volume as Jina continues pulling you towards the kitchen. Shaking his head, Minho closes the front door and follows both of you to grab snacks for the TV night ahead. 

Jina settles into the middle of the sofa to share her bowl of popcorn while you stretch your blanket out enough to cover her as well. After sitting his armful of drinks down on the end table, Minho takes the last seat on the couch and immediately turns to flop his legs over Jina's lap.

"You're going to spill all the popcorn! And your legs are too heavy," Jina grunts as she pushes his thighs off her knees while you snicker from her other side. "Go sit on the loveseat!"

"Fine, fine," Minho sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands. "But I'm taking the remote with me! Hah!" 

He sprawls out on the loveseat and flicks the TV on. As the Netflix menu illuminates the room, Minho begins to scroll through the recommended shows. You can't help but eye the dancing shadows forming from the veins on his forearm as he points the remote at the television and periodically clicks buttons. Were those veins always there? 

You're shaken from your daydream by a subtle elbow to the rib. Jina leans closer to whisper in your ear, "Did you come to watch Netflix and chill with ME or my brother?"

You scoff and shove a handful of popcorn in Jina's mouth, shooting daggers at her with your eyes while she smirks, cheeks full. That damn Lee smirk must be hereditary.

"I've heard that series is really good," you pipe up as Minho passes the new releases in romantic K-Dramas. You expect a snarky retort from the reclining man, but he simply pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he backtracks and clicks play on your suggestion.

A steamy scene opens the show before the intro even starts, and you feel your face grow warm. You begin to second guess your recommendation as this is apparently not one of the sweet rom-com shows you are used to watching. No wonder everyone has been chatting it up on social media. Jina however is enthralled, judging by her wide eyes and seeming inability to find her own mouth as she bumps a popcorn kernel into her lips repeatedly before finally succeeding to eat it.

Minho is quiet through the first episode, but movement draws your attention from the TV when you notice him resituating on the loveseat, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap. You have to admit, the show is pretty hot, but seeing his profile again in person is getting you even more bothered. It looks like he might be affected as well.

Nearly two episodes later Jina is failing to keep her eyes open, head lolling towards the comforting support of your shoulder. Unable to resist the call of nature any longer, you gently pat her hair to stir her awake. 

"Hey, Min? Can you pause it while I run to the restroom?" you ask softly as you stand to stretch. He obliges immediately and a thin smile spreads across his face as he looks up at you, hair now messy from trying to find a comfortable position on the cramped loveseat. 

"I can't keep my eyes open," Jina mumbles through a yawn. "Don't stop watching on my account, though. I can catch up tomorrow."

She shuffles down the hall in the Hello Kitty slippers you won for her at an arcade in middle school. You hear the soft close of her door as you head into the bathroom. Rather than feeling jet-lagged and exhausted like you expect, your heart seems to be racing as your mind keeps conjuring images of you and Minho in the scenes the drama characters find themselves in. You have got to snap out of it, you think to yourself. Before leaving you wash your hands and splash cool water on your face, trying to knock the blush down a bit. 

Returning to the living room you find Minho has moved to the empty spot on the far side of the couch. His arm lifts the blanket you and Jina had been sharing. You freeze at the edge of the room, unsure how to proceed. Minho cocks his head and sends a few rapid blinks in your direction. He pats the couch cushion, inviting you to join him under the blanket. "What?," he says, "The couch is comfier and I was getting chilly. Shall we continue?"

You gingerly slide under the blanket at the opposite end of the couch. Although your face seems to get warmer and warmer, you have to admit the air temperature is dropping. You pull your legs up to your side beneath the blanket. Pointing the remote at the television, he plays the next episode and you snuggle back into the cozy warmth of the plush sofa. 

As you become engrossed in the show again, you absentmindedly stretch your legs across the center cushion. Craving warmth, your toes become heat-seeking missiles and begin to work their way under Minho's thigh. You don't even realize your foot has betrayed you until he grabs your ankle. In embarrassment, you instinctively try to pull your foot back, but his firm grip gently holds you still. 

"Tickles," is all he says, eyes still glued to the TV. He pulls your foot out from beneath his leg. Mind racing, you have already planned where you are going to dig your own grave after he lets go, but he doesn't loosen his hold. Turning now to face you, he extends your leg across his lap and squeezes the arch of your foot tenderly. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, staring into your eyes as he awaits confirmation. Almost imperceptibly, you slowly nod your head a couple times before swallowing hard.

"I need you to use your words, Kitten," he whispers, stilling the motion of his hand.

"Yeah, s'alright," you manage as you avert your eyes back to the show. Even in the dim, blue light of the TV, you're sure Minho can now see the unmistakable red tinge blossoming on the tips of your ears. 

His fingers begin to move again as he massages the ball of your foot now resting on his lap. No longer able to concentrate on the show, you reflect on the domesticity of the position you now find yourself in with your best friend's brother. These thoughts only further the spreading wetness in your panties. 

You're screwed.

The episode ends rather abruptly as the main characters are finally starting to realize their feelings for each other. Arching his back and stretching his arms above his head, Minho interjects, "It's time for an action movie!"

"No! We have to see what happens next!" you yell, refusing to quit binging the new drama. Minho brings his hand to his mouth to hold a finger in front of his lips. 

"Shh, you'll wake sleeping beauty," he laughs. You make grabby hands for the remote and he shoots his arm up, holding the object of your desire just out of reach. He can't help but giggle watching you struggle to lean forward and extend your arm enough to pry the remote away, nearly clamoring into his lap.

Your movements suddenly cease and you look up at Minho through your lashes, a devilish twinkle in your eye. 

"Oh, no. That look means no good," he concedes. Before he can piece together what evil plan you have concocted, your fingers attack his exposed armpit, tickling him like your life depends upon it. 

"Gaaaah!", he cries out as he instinctively tucks his elbow to his ribs, trapping your hand in the process.  Ditching the remote over his shoulder, he leans over you to retaliate with more tickles. You squeal as you try to curl into a fetal position to protect your vital organs from the unrelenting tickle-attack.

As you attempt to roll away and admit defeat, your legs tangle in the shared quilt. Off-balance now, you fall backwards from the couch, pulling your blanket-burrito’d partner with you to the carpeted floor. You squirm on your back, Minho straddling your thighs, his hands pressing your wrists to the floor above your head. He has a wild look in his eye as he catches his breath and blows stray strands of hair off of his forehead.

Mouth agape, you notice his eyes drift from yours down to the camisole strap that has slipped off your shoulder. His gaze slowly follows your collar bone back to the taught line of your neck and up to your panting lips. 

Minho’s eyes are now blown out into black pools of lust, no doubt reflecting your own desires. You feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek as his eyes return to yours again, blinking slowly, looking for any sign of apprehension in your expression. Your glance down to his plush lips is all the sign he needs to continue his advance. As he begins lowering himself down to your waiting lips, a door creaks open at the end of the hall. 

In unison, both of your heads snap to the side and you hold your breath as you watch Jina groggily stumble to the bathroom, flip the light on, and shut the door behind her. 

Minho exhales a sigh of relief and bows his head to your shoulder for a moment. You clear your throat, bringing him back to Earth, and he releases your wrists to gingerly lift himself from you. Helping you to your feet, he can't meet your eyes as he whispers, "I, uh, should probably call it a night."

As he pads down the hallway, head lowered, you double back to the kitchen to get an icy glass of cold water. What the actual fuck was that? Did Minho really almost just kiss you? Would he have if Jina hadn't interrupted? What would have happened if Jina had caught you making out with her brother in the middle of the living room floor?!? 

You shake your head to clear your doubts before chugging the rest of the ice water in your glass. The last question would have to wait. You know you won't be able to sleep tonight without confronting Minho about the other questions racing through your mind. You steel your resolve and cross the living room. 

The bathroom door is now open, and Jina's has closed again. Knowing her, she's probably already sound asleep. You round the corner of the hall and quietly approach Minho's room. 

For a moment you debate whether you should softly knock, or just open the door to let yourself in. Not wanting to risk waking anyone else, you finally decide on the latter. Your hand reaches for the smooth brass knob, but it turns and unlatches before you even reach it. The door swings open and a stunned Minho faces you from the other side of the doorway. 

Eyes wide, he leans forward to look down the hall briefly before pulling you into his chest as he spins you through the doorway, closing the door behind him as he does. 

Your ear pressed to his chest reveals the same quickened heartbeat you have been afflicted with all day. His familiar scent washes over you, and you inhale the sweet muskiness before stepping back to stare up at him.

"Aren't you going to ask why I came to your door?" you question, finally breaking the silent tension.

"I think I know," he says, taking the smallest step towards you.

"Where were you going just now?" you muster, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I think you know," he says lowly, taking another step forward to meet you with hungry eyes. He raises one hand to caress your cheek as he lowers his other hand to your waist, pulling you in to close the gap between your bodies.

His lips finally meet yours, barely pressing together in chaste restraint. It's all you can do to refrain from devouring this man whole. Your lips part slightly and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his bottom lip as you shudder slightly and moan against his mouth. Something in Minho snaps and he presses you to the door as his tongue begins to explore deeper into your kiss. You slide a hand up his back. With the other you comb your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. With that, a moan escapes Minho's lips and he drops his head back into your hand, brows knit together in ecstasy. You watch his Adam's apple bob under the milky skin of his throat as he catches his breath. The throb you feel in your soaked panties causes you to clench your legs together as your own head drops back against the door.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he spits out, grabbing your hands and leading you to sit on the edge of his bed.

"I need to know. Do you have feelings for me?" he asks with pleading eyes, a tinge of worry in his voice. "Because I can't do this without knowing."

"Feelings?" you scoff, incredulously. "I've liked you since we were in high school, Minho! I have a lot of feelings for you. All of them, in fact."

You smile sheepishly at your blurted confession. A wave of relief washes over his face before he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

"I've liked you for a long time, too, Kitten," Minho mumbles against your skin. "Do you want to stay here with me tonight and talk?"

"What are we going to tell Jina?" you ask, quietly fiddling with the tag in the back of his shirt as he holds you.

"We'll figure something out," he says, a soft crinkle lacing the corner of his eyes as he smiles at you tenderly, "Together."

___

The metallic click of the door latch stirs you awake. On autopilot, you roll over to try to figure out what woke you. Your stirring causes Minho's arm to tighten instinctively around your waist while he slumbers contentedly. You blush as your drowsy brain suddenly remembers where you are. Putting two and two together, you realize Minho wasn't the one leaving the room. You gasp, sitting up straight, and quickly turn to shake him awake.

"I think Jina just saw us in your room! What are we going to do, Min?!" You half whisper, half shout in his ear.

He sleepily shushes you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck wanting nothing more than to snuggle you back to sleep.

"I'm being serious, Minho!" you say, smacking his arm lightly. "She's going to kill us!"

You hear another noise coming from the hall. You spin around to listen and clap a hand over Minho's mouth to keep him quiet as he confusedly rubs his arm, still half asleep.

Through the silence you hear the ruffle of paper sliding under the door. Turning to Minho with panic written all over your face, he rolls his eyes at your dramatics and pulls your hand from his mouth. 

Minho rises to cross the room, and bends down to retrieve the folded sheet of paper. Standing, he opens it and scans the note quickly before a lopsided grin creeps up his right cheek. 

Returning to flop down on the bed, he hands it to you with a smug expression. 

"I see my plan finally worked.

Come to the kitchen for pancakes.

But for the love of god, please put some clothes on first."

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Could you do number 55 'would you just shut up and kiss me'? For torres 🥰🥰

Nick Torres: Shut Up & Kiss Me Prompt NSFW

I have a problem with short stories. I can’t seem to just do a blurb. I want to much plot and backstory. I hope you enjoy anyways! <3 

It had been a close call. Too close. You had seen the damage to his bulletproof vest. Then to his ribs. You had frantically come into the hospital when Gibb's had called and told you that your boyfriend was getting checked out after a shootout.

He had been sitting on the bed in just his jeans. From the back, he looked as invincible as always. Strong taut muscles cover by olive skin. It was only when he had turned and you saw the ugly bruising. Dark shades of purple, blue, and black. You eyed the bruise

He looked up at you all bravo, "It's nothing." You looked at him incredulously.

"You were shot!" Your voice's pitch goes higher than you intend.

"In my bulletproof vest. It doesn't even hurt." Your eyes narrow at him. You absolutely hated it when he minimized situations. You don't know what you were thinking when you reach out to press firmly on his fresh bruise. Nick yelps and jerks back. It brings a sense of satisfaction along with an immediate pang of regret.

The two of you had discussed the dangers of his job before. More than once. Some had been more heated than others. You have seen the evidence of how dangerous his job was. Cuts and scraps on his face. Bruises to different parts of his body. Skinned knuckles and black eyes. But in the year that you had been together, he had never been shot. Logically you knew that he had been in firefights before. More than he had told you. More than he could probably keep track of.

"Don't blow smoke up my ass Nicholas Miguel Torres. You could have died." His dark eyes turn innocent as he reaches out to you.

"Cariño, no te enfades. No te voy a dejar mi niña hermosa. Lo siento mi amor perdóname (Sweetheart, don't get upset. I'm not going to leave you, my beautiful girl. I'm sorry my love forgive me)"

You roll your eyes at his sweet words while he starts rubbing at your shoulders and back. He knew that his Spanish sweet talk was your weakness. It wasn't just your weakness though, nobody could resist Nick Torres's charm. Much to your dismay when it was to beautiful women.

He continues as his hands wander down your back and waist to the back of your thighs. "Simplemente no quería que te preocuparas. Prometo tener más cuidado. Cruza mi corazón. (I just didn't want you to worry. I promise to be more careful. Cross my heart.)

"Nick, would you just shut up and kiss me."

His lips find yours. They are warm, full, and demanding. You can feel the life and energy pulsing through him. He nibbles your bottom lip and your hands start tracing down his chest. Your hands accidentally find his bruise again. "Aiy!"

"Sorry, sorry baby." You mumble against his lips as you break kisses between words. He waves off your concern again. He grabs around your thighs and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He turns setting you on the hospital bed.

"Let me make it up to you." He drops down to his knees in front of you. "siéntate quieto para mí. (sit still for me)" He slides his hands up your sundress wrapping his fingers around your hips. He yanks you forward so your lace-covered pussy presses tightly against his face. His mouth open and hot on your cunt. You gasp as your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his short hair.

His fingers delve under your panties and pull them to the side. He licks your cunt making your leg jerk. You move your legs further over his shoulders, urging him on.

He pushes you to climax quickly and purposefully. His fingers join his mouth in pursuit of your pleasure. Your thighs tighten around his face. After the white-hot pleasure passes you look down to make eye contact with your boyfriend. He has a mischievous smile on his face along with your juices. "Am I forgiven?"

[explodingstar]

I Miss You Simon (Pt 2.)

Warnings: Choking, slight degrading

Pairings: Simon Riley x f!reader

You wake up and look at your phone through squinted eyes. “Ah fuck thats too bright.” You say as you immediately turn your phone brightness down. You look at the time and see it reads 10:35AM. You remember staying up last night being on the phone with Simon for over an hour then you recall him saying he would be home today. “Oh…OH NO” You get up in a hurry to take a quick shower because he said he would be back around 11 or so. You rush into the bathroom grabbing a quick change of clothes to get out of the lingerie you were wearing last night for him. As you toss it onto the tile floor and hop in the shower it actually hits you that he will be home in like 30 minutes. You can only imagine what hes going to do when he gets here. You smile to yourself as you wash your hair with a nice smelling floral shampoo and conditioner. You get out of the shower not even 10 minutes after getting in and get into some clean clothes. Just a tanktop with a pair of pants. 

You go into the kitchen to turn on the tea kettle so Simon can have some hot tea when he gets in. You know its his favorite. As you are making an egg and cheese biscuit for breakfast you hear the latch on the front door and heavy footsteps walk into the house. You look around the corner of the kitchen wall and see Simon putting his bag down. 

“Darling! Im home!” You run up to him and give him a big hug to which he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder and walks into the bedroom. He still has all of his gear on, his mask, his vest, his boots, everything. “I missed you so much Simon!” You say with a giggle and a smile. “I missed you too darling” he says while leaning down to wrap his arms around you in a warm embrace. He walks into the bathroom and comes out a couple minutes later with the lingerie that you were wearing for him last night. 

“Put it on.” He demands. You grab it from him and start putting it on like he ordered. 

“Yes sir.” You change in front of him and grabs the front of his pants to adjust his hardening cock you would assume. 

“‘Atta good girl.” He picks you up by the hips and puts you on the edge of the bed and unzips his pants. He grabs the lace lingerie with each hand and rips it with ease. You smirk knowing how badly hes been waiting for this at least sense last night. You look down at him and see his erect cock slick with his precum. Before you could even think he grabs your thighs and pulls you up onto his cock with a growl escaping his lips underneath his mask. “Uugh Fuck..” Simon says as you roll your eyes back and close them letting out a moan yourself.

He puts one hand around your throat and one grabbing your hip as he continues to thrust into you. “S…Simon im going to c…cum!” You say between breaths as you hold onto his big muscular forearm. Don’t.. I’m not finished with you yet.” He says between his teeth. Your back arches off of the bed and he lets out a little chuckle as he looks down at your now dripping cunt. “Oh you just couldn’t wait could ya?”

Simon releases the hold he has on your throat and takes off his mask but continues to keep his pace. “Goddamn you’re such a needy bitch fa me” He starts fucking you harder and faster and you know hes about to reach his climax but you are too..again. You feel his grip tighten on your hips and you just know you’re going to have bruises on them later today. All of a sudden his hot sticky seed starts dripping out of your pussy and down between your legs as you cum at the same time. Simon slowly pulls out of you and zips his pants back up. 

“And thats for teasing me last night sweetheart.” He says with a grin.

“Well maybe I should tease you more often”

A/N: Part 2!! Yippie! If anyone has any requests please ask! I have a couple ideas yet I want to get done soon!

[valleydean]

Chapter 9 [Read Here]

HEAVYWEIGHT a deancas boxing au by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) read from beginning | playlist | ko-fi

SUMMARY: Brooklyn, 1927. The Golden Age of Boxing. Two years ago, light heavyweight champion Dean Winchester and heavyweight champion Castiel Novak had a secret affair. After a scandal tarnished Cas’ name and stripped him of his title, the two parted ways. Now, with a heavyweight tournament on the horizon, Dean aims to up his weight class so he can compete for the title. He finds unexpected competition when Cas comes out of retirement and returns to New York to fix his reputation. Upon their reunion, the two contenders learn that, outside of the ring, some bruises never really heal.

PREVIEW:

The gym hadn’t changed at all since Castiel last stepped foot in it. All the shadowy equipment appeared the same, and the ring still loomed in the center of it all. The place still smelled of body odor, leather, and burning rubber. Perhaps the only difference was Dean’s title belt in its glass case mounted on the wall.

Dean went over to the breaker on the wall and pulled up the lever. The overhead lights hummed and flickered before the coils fully illuminated. Everything was cast in a surreal amber glow. Castiel looked at Dean, seeing his skin shimmering with the same hue, as if the golden color of his heart and soul was shining from within.

“Okay, looks like we’re alone,” Dean said, his voice echoing in the too-big, empty space. The words filled the cavern inside Castiel’s chest, rattling around inside of him and refusing to settle down. Castiel breathed in deeply, trying not to let any of it on.

He watched Dean shrug off his leather jacket and put it on the coat rack before he paced toward the iron shelves laden with equipment and accessories. Castiel hung up his own coat to keep himself busy.

“Left my usual gloves at home, but these’ll have to do,” Dean contemplated as he lifted up a pair of brown leather gloves knotted together. He draped them over his shoulder and surveyed the rest of the options before eventually grabbing a second pair. “These should fit you.” He brought them over, and Castiel peered down at their garish blue and red coloring before gently relieving them from Dean’s hands.

“Thank you.”

Dean didn’t answer. He headed toward the ring and toed off his shoes before squeezing between the ropes. Castiel followed his lead, though he took the time to crouch down and unlace his shoes properly before hoisting himself up onto the platform. By the time he was inside the ropes, Dean had already shrugged out of his casual striped button-up, leaving only the thin layer of his white undershirt. The fabric stretched over his chest and arms. Castiel tried not to make it obvious, but he kept staring at Dean out of the corner of his eye, admiring him.

Dean shoved one hand into his glove and laced it up. He slipped into the other and pulled the strings with his teeth to tighten them. They remained unknotted, and Castiel briefly considered tying them up for Dean, but then who would do the same for him? It would give Dean an unfair advantage.

Besides, the gloves were the least of his concerns. Dean hadn’t offered Castiel hand wraps, and he hadn’t put any on himself. Castiel glances around, wondering after the headgear, mouthguards, and other protection.

“Shouldn’t we be using padding?” he asked warily as he took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his vest. He draped both garments over the ropes, and decided to keep his white shirt on and roll up the sleeves. His suspenders still dug into his shoulders.

From the other corner, Dean glanced up through his lashes, his mouth puckered. His eyes flickered pointedly down to Castiel’s bare forearms before he chuckled, “Padding. Gettin’ a little soft over there at that fancy gym of yours. Lemme guess: that egg Michael’s got you in head-to-toe gear so he doesn’t get a scratch on you?”

Castiel huffed. He pulled at the knot of his tie to loosen it before pulling over his head. “It’s for precaution,” he defended. “There’s no use getting bloody outside of a real fight.”

Dean swung his arms backward and then forward, clapping his gloves together once. His eyes came alight. “This is a real fight! Don’t you see the audience?”

Castiel squinted incredulously. The room was empty.

Dean strode forward to the center of the ring. His shout boomed off the high ceilings as he called with gusto, “Ladies and gentlemen, do we have a bout for you tonight! One that will no doubt go in the boxing history books!”

Castiel bit down on his smile, trying not to give Dean the satisfaction.

“In this corner,” Dean went on, his voice still mocking an MC. He swung his arm out toward the empty corner of the ring behind him. “Weighing in at 188 pounds, your former undefeated light heavyweight champion—and—and soon to be heavyweight champ—the King of Kings County himself, Mr. Dean Winchester!”

He put his gloved hands around his mouth and mimicked the hiss of the crowd.

Castiel made a show of rolling his eyes.

“And in this corner,” Dean said, gesturing toward Castiel, “weighing in at…” He dropped the voice momentarily: “Cas?”

“190.”

“One hundred and ninety pounds! Coming back to us from California, where he made wine for smugglers—”

It was getting more difficult to keep the grin from his expression. Castiel could feel it twinkling in his eyes as he watched Dean’s antics.

“The Angel of America! Mr. Castiel Novak!”

Dean put his hands before his mouth again, but this time he let out a series of boos.

Castiel blanched. “Dean!”

“What? It’s not me!” Dean answered brightly. “It’s the fans! Not my fault they love me. Jeez.”

They’re not the only ones, Castiel thought, unbidden, in spite of himself.

The cavern in his chest opened up again, any joy he felt suddenly tumbling into the abyss. It only lasted a moment before Dean spoke again.

“We doing this or not? C’mon. Touch gloves.” He held out his arms, waiting.

Castiel sighed heavily. He shoved his hand into one of the gloves and fumbled with the laces until they were knotted well enough. He let the laces on the second glove hang limply about his wrists while he approached Dean.

Dean’s eyes traced up and down his body in a way that might have felt very different if they weren’t so undeniably alone. Castiel slapped his gloves against Dean’s before putting them in guard.

From over the bright blue leather, Castiel watched Dean circle around him. He spun with him, keeping Dean in his line of vision as he shuffled his weight from foot to foot on the cool canvas. All the while, he looked for an opening, waiting to strike, waiting for Dean to strike. Dean only kept dancing around him.

The tips of his hair caught the golden light above. Shadows were cast on his plush lips; they cut up his sturdy jaw. There was still a dangerous kind of smirk playing on the corner of his mouth as his eyes flickered across Castiel’s face.

Castiel had enough. He sprang forward, throwing a straight punch toward that smile. Dean slipped out of the way and arced a hook into Castiel’s ribs. Castiel grunted, hearing Dean do the same when Castiel’s glove connected with his stomach in an uppercut half a second later.

Dean bobbed around him, making Castiel pivot his left foot back to switch stances. He swung his right fist into the side of Dean’s face. The blow landed—but not too hard. Castiel found himself pulling his punches. He had to. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Dean ahead of the tournament.

Still, Dean staggered slightly.

Castiel dropped his hands, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Dean said, shaking his head to right himself. “Told you a million times: your European hooks ain’t as powerful as you think they are.”

Castiel swallowed down his laughter, even if he couldn’t quite control the grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll remind you that you said that after I knock you out.”

“Huh-huh.” Dean surprised Castiel with a jab to the eye—but it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Maybe Dean was holding back, too.

“Keep your damn hands up,” Dean warned.

Castiel guarded his face in case Dean tried to suckerpunch him again. He stepped back, putting some space between them, transferring his weight from side to side, waiting for Dean to make a move. It was only a matter of time before Dean would try to back him against the ropes and attack on the inside, as was his usual MO.

His eyes stayed connected to Dean’s, neither of them straying, neither blinking. Castiel was aware of the sweat prickling on his brow and collecting on the small of his back, dampening his shirt. He was aware of perspiration twinkling on Dean’s face, on the blush of heat rising in Dean’s cheeks and ears, on the stilted sound of Dean’s breathing.

Dean came in for a punch. Castiel slipped out of the way and sent two quick pops to Dean’s face. By the third punch, Dean learned to anticipate it. He ducked and sent a cross into Castiel’s gut. Springing back up, he tried to swing from his back hand. Castiel reflexively slapped his glove away before it impacted—and was momentarily surprised when Dean let out a burst of laughter.

Dean distanced himself again so they could circle each other. There was a cut under his eye, swollen and angry but not oozing. He didn’t even seem to notice. He was grinning again, like a boy play-fighting in a schoolyard. When his eyes moved honey-slow up and down Castiel’s body, it was tangible. Castiel’s skin raised in response to the dragging touch. Dean licked his lips, his wet tongue catching the light, and Castiel’s throat went dry.

They were alone. They were together. For at least a little while longer.

/////

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Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in chapters or if you’d like to be taken off the list.

[pacificwaternymph]

Finn stumbled out of the bar, wiping his nose with the palm of his hand. The only thing it accomplished was smearing the blood all over its face, and staining its palm red. His vision blurred and doubled in front of him, one of his eyes swelling quickly and refusing to open all the way.

The stupid Kestrel hadn't been pulling his punches. Finn grudgingly had to admit that it had underestimated him. He hadn't expected someone like him to put up such a fight. His expensive, silk sleeves had hid the muscle underneath.

Finn's stomach churned, the ale it had drunk not two hours ago protesting heavily to the abuse of its body. He barely made it into the alley next to the tavern before he heaved, vomiting onto the dirty, moldy cobblestones.

The foul mixture seeped into its split lip, mixing with the blood and stinging something fierce. He hissed in pain, limping a few steps over before sliding down the wall onto the ground. It closed its eyes and tipped its head back, taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the various aches and pains that were sure to bloom into beautiful bruises tomorrow morning. Fuck, this was not how he'd expected this night to go.

It'd been itching for a fight all day, the urge to lash out and strike anyone who came near it simmering just beneath its skin. And he'd seen him waltz into the bar like he owned the place, and Finn knew he'd found his target. His purple satin vest, embroidered eyepatch, and perfectly polished boots had pissed it off. He had the air of someone who thought himself better than the "lowlifes" in the bar, even though he was just as much a pirate as the rest of them.

Finn had wanted nothing more than to claw that smug look off his face. Maybe add a few more stripes alongside the ones that ran from his jaw, across his face, and underneath his eyepatch. Turns out, the scars hadn't just been for show.

It's head was swimming. He cracked one eye open, and wondered how on earth he was going to get home when he was like this. It groaned and brought one knee up to rest its hand on, wincing as it jostled its probably cracked ribs.

"Hello?" A voice called into the darkness. Finneas flinched and suppressed a scream at the wave of pain, turning his head to the source of the disturbance.

A young woman stood in the entrance to the alley. She had dark hair pinned back in a braid, and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to protect against the chill of the night. Her dress cut off at her knees, revealing knee-high laced boots.

Great, just what it needed. If anyone saw him like this, he may as well kiss his reputation goodbye. Maybe, if it was just very still, she wouldn't see him, or would think he was a dead body, and go away.

"Are you alright?" she continued, and Finn held his breath, closing his eyes and praying to whatever god he may or may not believe in that she would deem this not worth her time and leave.

But it seems the gods weren't listening, because a moment later Finn heard the sound of heels clacking against stone, drawing steadily closer to it. He cursed silently.

It heard a sharp gasp, and reluctantly opened its eyes to face the music. Up close, he saw she had wide blue eyes and... fins (he thought) where her ears should be. A siren, perhaps?

The thought sent a chill down its spine.

His fear was quickly forgotten, however, when his eyes caught on the sash wrapped around her waist. The dark blue fabric, draping down against her skirt, was embroidered with two birds, one larger and one smaller, entwined in flight together.

Perfect. On top of the humiliation of being seen like this at all, the one who had found it was one of those weakling nightingales. What an embarrassing way to go.

"Oh, you poor thing," was the first thing she said after recovering from her shock of seeing him at all. The pity in her tone made it want to throw up again. Or maybe that was the concussion. Either way, he instinctively recoiled from her condescension, and regretted it immediately. Right. Ribs.

The nightingale-siren-woman reached for it. He tensed, his hand shooting up to grab her wrist with a bone creaking grip. She jumped, startled by the suddenness of it, but there was no fear in her eyes. It supposed, with it like this, there really was no reason to fear it.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, using her free hand to pry his fingers off of her. "I didn't mean to startle you." She knelt down so that she was eye level with it, seemingly uncaring of the dirt and leftover rainwater that soaked her skirts. She reached into her bag (since when had she had a bag? Fuck, he was really out of it if he was missing obvious details like that) and pulled out a handkerchief and a small pouch holding some kind of liquid, presumably water.

"Here, I can help." Her tone was earnest, and her expression was surprisingly warm. Finn gaped at her, eyes going back and forth from her face to her hands. What was wrong with this woman? Offering help to a complete stranger?

No, this had to be a trick of some kind. It narrowed its eyes, watching as she unscrewed the cap of her water pouch and poured some kind of clear fluid onto the cloth. It looked like water, but he couldn't exactly trust that, now could he. It could be chloroform, for all it knew. He could be about to be kidnapped, and he wasn't in any position to defend himself.

Nightingales were definitely the kind to take advantage of people at their most vulnerable, disguising their ill intent as kindness. It was the only way most of them would ever win in a fight.

It curled its lips back into a sneer.

"I don't need your help," he rasped.

The nightingale paused, looking up at him. She recapped the pouch and stored it away, looking at him contemplatively. After a moment, she seemed to come to some sort of realization.

"I promise I'm not trying to hurt you," she said, in the same tone one would use on a cornered animal. She grabbed its hand and pressed the handkerchief into it. "Here, you can clean up some of the blood." Without waiting for a response, she stood up and stepped back, giving him space.

It eyed the cloth warily, and hesitantly sniffed it once. He didn't smell anything suspicious, so slowly, without ever taking his eyes off the nightingale still across from him, he started to wipe down his face. It's not an easy task. Its hands are shaking, and nothing seems to quite want to focus. But he manages to clean out his lip and most of the mess left by the bloody nose. Red still stains the creases in its hand, crusting over in a promise that it would be there for days.

The whole time, the Nightingale didn't do anything. She didn't move, she didn't talk, she didn't even watch him. She kept her eyes on the entrance of the alley, as though standing guard. When it offered the now blood soaked handkerchief to her, its hand was shaking so hard it feared it was going to drop it. A few seconds passed, and she didn't take it from him. Then, suddenly she was in front of him again, her hands enclosing around his to steady it. He hadn't even seen her move.

Though her touch was gentle, Finn still flinched. It only had a brief moment to hope that she hadn't noticed before its hopes were dashed like an abandoned ship against the rocks. The pity returned, and she gave him another smile (seriously, who smiled that much?) before taking the cloth back and neatly folding it away.

The nightingale glanced back towards the street, where the warm glow of lamps only just barely penetrated into the alley, and turned back to Finn.

"Come with me," she said, holding out a hand. "I'll help you find somewhere we can patch you up."

"Who are you?" Finn spat back. There was no way it was going to follow some stranger to an unknown location. He was trying to avoid being murdered tonight.

"My name is Joanna," the woman responded. Finn waited for her to list a second name, but a moment passed, and it realized that was all it was getting.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "Why are you helping me?"

She blinked, confusion clouding her startling blue eyes.

"You're hurt."

She said it so plainly, as if it were that simple. As if she didn't need another reason to offer her assistance to someone she didn't know, who she had found under incredibly suspicious circumstances, and couldn't possibly fathom why she would need another one.

And Maybe Finn was just tired, or maybe it was the concussion, or maybe it was because the girl seemed so genuine and Nightingales were always said to be bleeding hearts anyway, but it found itself believing her.

You must be new to the isles, he thought to himself. You're far too naive. She must be, either naive or crazy, to help him like this.

It grasped her hand and let her pull it to its feet. He stumbled forward, but she caught him, and threw one of his arms around her shoulders. She was surprisingly strong, able to support its weight even as it sagged against her, leaving her to do most of the work.

"What's your name?" she whispered to him as they started limping back towards the street. Finneas took a few moments to answer, with the way its head pounded.

"Finneas Blackwood," he muttered back. "But you can call me Finn."

-

Ta da!!! I realize I've never actually elaborated on how Joanna met any of her squad beyond Inigo, so I thought I'd give this a shot.

As always, Finn belongs to @finnified

And yes, the pirate that Finn fought was in fact Inigo. Something that will make for a very awkward second meeting with Joanna.

[therooftopsofketterdam]

short starter for @thiefofcrows

Night had long since settled over the city, as Inej dipped a cloth in a shallow dish with ice water. Her hair fell over her shoulder, loosely curtaining a side of her face and spilling over the side of her leg and knee, as she looked into Kaz's pale face. Her brown eyes warm and soft on his.

He'd stretched out on the sofa, hat and coat abandoned, tie loosened and vest undone, bad leg elevated with a pillow and his head lay securely in Inej's lap.

"Tell me the other guy looks worse." Inej requested, her voice slightly worried as she brushed some of his hair out of Kaz's forehead, nails lightly tracing over his scalp. There was blood on his face and shirt, some on his gloves and cane as well. She knew how a fight looked like. There were lacerations on his face, a long cut on his forehead, blood trailing from his nose and bruises forming on his face. It looked painful.

Inej withdrew the cloth from the bowl, gently dabbing the edge along the cut on his brow, whiping away dirt, grime, fresh as well as dried blood in an attempt to clean it. The hope was that the ice water would soothe the inflamed tissue and reduce the swelling.

Her mother used to make cold compresses for her whenenver she tumbled off the rope or cut herself on stones and branches while running and climbing. That kind of practice was something she missed deeply...

Inej released a breath she'd been holding as she re-dipped the cloth into the water. "At least none of these will leave a scar." Quietly, she continued to clean his cuts and dab cold water onto the forming bruises. Her hand hesitated when she reached his eyebrow, a shiney mote of scar tissue cut vertically through it. She had always been aware of it, but never had the chance to properly see his scars and Inej wondered what had happened to him that he carried so many on prominent places...

Her index finger gently traced the outline of shiny skin, once, twice, before she moved on. Her hand now cradling the side of his face, a soft brush of her thumb against the side of his mouth where another jagged scar disturbed the softness of Kaz's lips. She'd kissed that scar before and now wondered how his seemed to be smooth and clean cut compared to the gnarled mess that she hid beneath her sleeves.

Kaz's scars where a show of strength, of battles won. Her own were a victory laced with pain, but there was no strength attached to it. Only the hope to be free of the cursed tattoo that had once inhabited her wrist.

Inej noticed another, much fainter rope of scar tissue just above his nose. A vertical scratch that didn't quite seem to fit into the mosaic of scars that marked his face, jagged marks the barrel had left on it's bastard.

Her thumb still rested against the side of his lip as she gently cradled his face to better reach. "How did you get these?" She asked, head slightly turned to the left as she looked at him inquisitively. Scars told stories... and Inej couldn't help but stealing secrets. And Kaz Brekkers secrets were her favorites.

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

Of course there was a lot to be desired with Sephiroth’s terse tone of voice, but Cloud could, for that split second, forgive for the fact that he was once again granted reprieve from the onslaught of a literal uphill struggle. Still, though he was silently thankful for the rest, disappointment laced his features with the knowledge that he was still a hinderance.

He would have preferred for the conversation to continue as opposed to this, yet as the words dwindled and died so did his need to fill the suffocating void. They were not friends, and truth be told, Cloud could think of a thousand and one people he would choose in the place of Sephiroth’s company.

Still, the frustration refused him the resolve to resist when Sephiroth slips the blade from his shoulder, and the blond finds himself reduced to staring at his feet solemnly. There was no denying that the pain from this freshest of injuries was becoming almost impossible to ignore, but still there was a glimmer of hope in his mind that it would merely right itself eventually. Though that was before he was issued his next order; an order which has him raise his gaze, slowly, casting azure eyes from the very tips of the silver ex-SOLDIER’s boots, ever upwards over worn leather until he finally reaches the man’s insufferable blank glare.

Of course, he’s forced to recall the harrowing instance the last time he had undressed for this man; it took almost everything he had to force that image back into the bowels of his memory from which it came-

Never again.        NEVER AGAIN!!

- and Strife was so very close to refusing to comply.

                                          ‘No, I don’t think I will.’

The words were right there tickling the very fringes of his mind, dancing on the tip of his tongue, held back only by the displeasured furrow of blond brows and the downward tug of his mouth.

But how far could he even push his refusal of that order? Until the shirt is forcefully torn from his back perhaps? He was in no real fit state to be making such decisions (or to put up a fight at that) least of all in the position of authority in this strange little alliance they’d forged. Though he had to stop himself from scoffing at the notion that this was anything within the realms of an allegiance.

He huffs then in frail protest, head whipping to the side on the end of his neck, eager to look at anything but him in that moment. And he huffs nasally again as he reaches violently for the strap holding that single pauldron in place, letting the thing clatter nosily to the floor before all but wrenching the shirt over his head.

Cloud is relenting, as he always did, but at least he can say he was very unhappy about it… that was something.

Right?

So much energy when it came to huffing and puffing, Sephiroth noted. Another thing Zack Fair seemed to have passed down on this one. Still, the man obeyed, and the older was grateful of that. From the days where only one of them could talk and move around, the first thing Sephiroth had looked forward to the most had been to no longer have to be in charge of dressing and undressing the helpless result of a madman’s experiments. Helping him walk was not as much of a bother in comparison.

He didn’t react to the defiant display in which Cloud removed his armor and vest, simply waiting for it to be done and instead kneel down by his side to examine both the front and back now exposed to view. The faint surprise that stirred him then was expressed solely in the prolonged stillness of his gaze, when he examined the ex infantryman’s injuries and found them to be much lighter than he’d have expected.

Not that he was unscathed by any means. In a couple points the skin had broken, and a bruise had already formed on the lower back where the fall had occurred. But rather than it glowing with the painful red of a fresh injury, under the skin the bruise was already darkening, unsightly so. The kind of reaction the man would expect to see after a couple days, rather than a few hours.

Sephiroth would’ve theorized the possibility of this being an older injury, were it not for the fact that he’d seen this man’s bare back just the night before, to find none.

“… Impressive.” He murmured to himself, fingers ghosting over that spot, without any pressure.

[shycoconutt]

I Need You (Kakashi x Reader Smut)

A/n: Oh boy do I got some smutty smut for you. This is my first time writing smut and I think I did okay! Please let me know what you think and, as always, feel free to send some requests my way! 🤍

Summary: You find yourself unbelievably horny waiting for Kakashi to get home from work. The night goes exactly as planned.

Word Count: 4200

Warnings: NSFW ( minors, there's the door -> 🚪), fem!reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, doggy style, cunnilingus

Gods, why am I so horny?

Sat in the reading chair in the corner of your and Kakashi’s bedroom, you find yourself unable to focus on the new novel you picked up at the bookstore this morning. Each time you try to focus on the words in front of you, your eyes start to drift off the page and fall on your bed across the room. The bed where Kakashi and you have had sex now maybe a dozen times. You two have been platonic partners for years, but it wasn’t until recently where you both allowed your feelings to blossom into romance. Some would say that your relationship with Kakashi came on fast, but those who say that don’t truly know either of you.

After the war, and after keeping your feelings for each other bottled down for years, Kakashi took you on a vacation to a quaint village on the outskirts of Konoha. During your stay, you two could finally relax and find comfort in each other. The future seemed less uncertain, and you allowed yourself to open up in ways you never had before. You both knew you loved each other, that you were meant for each other, but the stress of war and the lack of knowledge that either of you would come out alive prevented anything from happening. The last thing either of you wanted to do was take the other’s heart six feet under.

It was the third night on the trip when he proposed to you. Kakashi and you were naked together in the natural hot spring, embracing each other in the water. The words he spoke to you that night are etched in your brain, never to be forgotten.

“My whole life I’ve been fighting; fighting for Konoha, fighting for my team, fighting for our friends, fighting my demons, fighting the truth, and fighting the feelings I have for you. I never understood why it was so hard to escape you, but it isn’t until now where I finally understand. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Our love is so natural, so pure. It pains me to know that our reality has muddled it for so long. You are the best thing that’s ever come into my life, and the gods only know how thankful I am that you have been by my side through it all. Everything I’ve ever gone through, every challenge I’ve had to overcome, you’ve guided me along the way. I used to think I was undeserving of your love, but now that we both are standing here, bruised and battered by our past, I realize that it was always supposed to be this way. You and me. Forever.”

That was the night you and Kakashi shared your first kiss. The night you first held each other in a naked embrace. The night you touched the skin normally concealed under each other's clothes. The night you trailed kisses down his chest, to his stomach, his hip, and up his shaft. The night you grabbed him in your hand and stroked him while looking into his eyes. The night you felt his tongue draw across your nipples. The night you felt him suck and nibble at your neck. The night you felt his fingers, god his fingers, trace up your wet heat to rub onto your most sensitive spot. The night he held onto your hip and slid into your tenderness. The night you whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears while he pumped into you. The night you made love, four times.

It’s been a week since your mini-vacation of ultimate bliss. Immediately after arriving back to the village, you both moved out of your individual apartments and moved into the Hatake estate, per Kakashi’s request. When you asked him if this is truly what he wanted, he assured you that this was the place he wanted to make a home with you and your future children. He also liked that the estate is largely removed from the Hokage tower, where he will be spending the majority of his time in the future. Renovations are far from over, but your bedroom was the first area of the house to be set up. It’s your shared sanctuary, and to be completely honest, you’ve never felt more at home.

The only word to describe this week between you and Kakashi is passionate. Even with opposite schedules, you both make time for one another every day. You’ve been insanely busy at your new job that you acquired post-war, spearheading the mental health resource center for war veterans and shinobi still in active duty. Kakashi is busy shadowing Tsunade while she sorts out post-war rehabilitation plans for the village. This is your first day off and, unfortunately, Kakashi is out doing future Hokage duties. Though frustrating, both of you are super understanding of each other's roles in this village and you respect that time with each other may be limited in the coming years. That’s why any chance you get, you both check in on each other throughout your day. Whether it’s offering to take his ninken on a walk while he’s in the office, or him bringing you breakfast when you get to work, you find opportunities to be present in each other’s daily lives.

The evenings, however, are a whole other story. Both of you are usually home a little after eight, and you’ve adapted to having late dinners with each other. After cleaning up, the rest of the evening is spent wrapped up in each other. One thing you weren’t expecting about being with Kakashi is that he is constantly touching you when you are alone together. His hands are either on your thighs, wrapped in your hair, caressing your face, squeezing your arms, massaging your shoulders, touching your lips, or any other way he can get them on you. You crave his touch, so to say that you enjoy this side of him is an understatement. Not only does Kakashi adore touching you, he also adores being touched.

Touching leads to caressing, caressing leads to groping, and groping leads to passionate lovemaking.

Well, geez (y/n), maybe if you stopped daydreaming about Kakashi’s hands all over you then you wouldn’t be this goddamn horny.

Here’s the thing with you and Kakashi’s newfound sex life. You are in the early stages. All the sex you have is all about romance, making up for the lost time, and finally expressing your feelings with your body. It’s amazing and you wouldn’t change your lovemaking for the world.

But right now, you don’t desire lovemaking. You desire rough, animalistic, dirty, dirty sex.

The kind of sex that makes you shudder in desire and fear.

The kind of sex that makes in between your legs sore the next day.

Realizing you’ve been daydreaming for the past fifteen minutes, you close your novel shut and toss it aside. You look over at the clock on your nightstand to find that it’s almost time for Kakashi to be home. Usually, you would already be cooking something up for dinner, but you have a feeling that any food you make would just get cold. Eating is not your priority right now, Kakashi is.

A devious smile forms at your lips when you consider what you plan on doing with him when he walks through the front door. Should you take him right there? Get down on your knees and beg for him? Run a warm, candle-lit bath? Put whip cream on your tits and tell him that you’re his dinner? All great options, but none are really representative of how much you need him.

In one swift movement, you are up off your chair and running towards your closet. He could be here any minute and there’s no time to waste. Once there, you take in how disorganized your closet is. You have yet to unpack any of your clothes, as all you’ve worn the past week is your jonin uniform and your pajamas. Rummaging through the boxes sprawled out on the floor, you finally find which box you are looking for. The box looks like any other box, but written on the side in marker is the word intimates.

Bingo.

One might think you are a sex fiend with all the lingerie you own, but that is far from reality. The truth is, lingerie has always made you feel sexy. Most of all, it’s just so pretty. You love the power it gives you. You love the fact that no one knows that some days you are wearing the world’s skimpiest lingerie underneath your uniform. It’s like you have an edge on someone that they don't even realize. Also, when you did happen to end up in bed with a man, you were over-prepared. The look on their faces when you stripped off your clothes was priceless. It was your way of telling them that you expected them to want you.

There are way too many options to choose from, and you find yourself starting to panic as time passes on. You know you’re overthinking this as, honestly, Kakashi would love anything you put on. Some things you know about Kakashi are that his favorite color is blue, he loves your thighs and is obsessed with how soft your skin is. Therefore, you should obviously go for the baby blue lace and silk set. It includes a lace balconette bra, a thong connected to thigh garters, and a silk robe to go over the top. After putting it on and taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you knew you made the right choice.

Before finding a comfortable spot on the bed, you quickly grab some baby oil and rub it all over your body. The oil will allow Kakashi to slide his hands all over you effortlessly, which is exactly what you need. Satisfied, you grab your book and lay on top of your made bed. You weren’t planning on actually reading, but you think your casualness while wearing such a sexy outfit will have Kakashi’s head spinning.

So there you were, belly down, ass out, feet intertwined, book in hand, when you heard the lock click and the front door open. Perfect timing.

You could hear Kakashi kick off his shoes and take off his vest as he walked into your home. Usually, you would be standing in the kitchen where he would come and give you a warm embrace and kiss you until you told him that he has to eat dinner. But, you're not there, and you can sense his confusion.

“Where’s my babygirl?” Kakashi’s voice projects throughout the house, a hint of concern in his voice. You smile at the thought of the pout that’s probably on his face right now.

“Sorry sweetheart, I’ve been caught up in my new book. I’m in the bedroom,” you call back to him.

You hear what sounds like a sigh of relief as his footsteps make their way down your hallway in the direction of your bedroom, the sounds of pieces of his uniform dropping off of him every few steps. You make sure to keep your head turned to the door so you can take in his reaction to your state.

“Oh, the new book you got this morning? How is it? Let me guess, you already finished-”

An indescribable feeling shoots through your whole body as Kakashi enters your bedroom. He just finished pulling his mask down his face, as his hand is still caught to the fabric pooling around his neck. With a smile on your face, you soak in his expression as he’s stood in the entrance of your room, a deep blush forming on his cheeks and his mouth still agape in mid-sentence. His eyes dart back and forth from your face to the bottom of your ass that’s hanging out of your silk robe.

Damn, you really did that (y/n).

“What’s wrong, Kashi?” You say in the most innocent voice you can muster. You bat your eyelashes and flip over to sit up so he can get a good look at you. You let your book drop off the bed and land on the floor.

There’s another pause before Kakashi slowly walks towards you on the bed. Without speaking, he reaches a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you up so you're kneeling on the bed as he stands in front of you. His dark eyes bore into yours as both of his hands drop to your thighs. Slowly, he grazes them up over your hips, your waist, up the sides of your breasts, to wrap around the back of your neck. You can feel the hairs on your skin stand in anticipation. With his hands still wrapped around you, he brings his head down to you and grazes his mouth on your jawline. From there he plants small kisses up the side of your face until he reaches your ear where he nibbles before speaking to you in a strained, low tone.

“You’re a very dangerous woman, (y/n).”

He must have felt you shudder because you could feel him smile against your cheek. Standing up straight again, Kakashi’s hands drop to the tie of your robe around your waist.

“May I?” he asks, giving you the sexiest look you’ve ever seen. Kakashi has been so effortlessly attractive since you met when you were young. Having these intimate moments with him almost seems surreal.

“Of course, Hatake,” you smile up at him.

Taking the tie in his hands, he starts to unravel the knot keeping your robe together. Once loose, he lets it fall over your shoulders and off your body completely.

After a few moments taking in the sight of you, Kakashi lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

“You’re so out of my league,” he confesses to you.

You let out a small giggle.

“Absolutely not,” you protest.

Without missing a beat, Kakashi grabs on to you and tosses you back on the bed so you are laying down underneath him. One of his hands wraps around the back of your head while the other cups your breast. Pulling the fabric of your bra down, he kneads your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. One of his knees lands in between your legs and he brings it up to press on to you. You can’t help the moan that escapes as you feel him all around you.

“So what’s the deal?” Kakashi teases. “I leave you alone in the house for one day and I come back to this?” He looks down at your body and back up again. “Where did you get this outfit, hm?”

“Oh baby,” you start teasing him back, “I guess one thing you don’t know about me yet is that I wear lingerie like this all the time.”

“Oh really?” he questions.

“Yep, all the time.” You smirk at what you’re about to say next. “Actually, remember that one time we were stationed together in the Earth country for a month for that S-rank assassination mission?”

Kakashi nods, confused where you’re going with this story.

“We let our guards down and almost hooked up the last night before we came back to the village.”

“I remember.”

“Well,” you pause for effect, “guess what I was wearing underneath my uniform that night?”

Kakashi remains silent, brows furrowed waiting for you. You smile at him deviously as you say your answer.

“This.”

Kakashi lets out what can only be described as an aroused, defeated groan when you utter your confession. He quickly comes back down and your mouths crash together in a heated frenzy. It isn’t until now when you realize that his bulge is hard against your leg, asking to be broken free from the confinement of his pants. While making out, you reach down and slip your hand under his waistband and grab onto his throbbing cock, stroking it in your hand. Although rock hard, the skin of his cock is soft and velvety.

Kakashi moans in your mouth when you make contact with him, but quickly escapes your grasp and gets up off of you. Sprawled out on the bed, you watch him strip down naked in front of you, starting with his shirt, then his pants and briefs. His body is truly something to marvel at, as decades of being a ninja have carved his body into perfection. You love the way his member slaps against his lower stomach when he pulls it from its confinement, excited and eager for you. He stands for a moment, contemplating what to do with you.

“I don’t want to take that pretty outfit off of you just yet. I guess I’ll just have to work around it for now,” Kakashi says as he stands at the end of the bed. Grabbing your ankles, he pulls you towards him and bends your legs upward until your knees meet your chest. Holding both of your legs up with one hand, he takes the other and spanks your ass cheek with a loud slap. You whimper from the sting while he rubs the mark he left. Kakashi sucks in another loud breath.

“Ugh, (y/n), you look so good for me.”

Before you can respond, Kakashi takes your thong and slides it over so you are exposed to him. Getting down on his knees, he brings his face to your glistening cunt and flattens his tongue against it. There he gives you one long lick up your slit to taste you. A moan erupts from him as your wetness meets his taste buds.

“You’re already so wet for me baby,” Kakashi breathes before going in to suck on you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you confess through your moans. “I only get this wet for you.”

“That’s because you're mine and mine only.”

Kakashi takes his time with you, almost as if this is his last meal on earth and he wants to savor it. He’s delicate in some moments and fierce in others. Incorporating his fingers, he slides them into you and curves them up to hit your g-spot repeatedly while eating you. Your hand instinctively cradles his face while the other intertwines with his silver locks. You start to feel tightness in your lower stomach as he brings you close to climax. The sound of his moans muffled inside you is enough to send you over the edge.

“Kakashi, baby, I’m gonna-”

“Come for me, baby,” Kakashi nods, giving you permission to let go.

Letting go of Kakashi, you grip onto the sheets around you, feeling the tightness build and drop out of you. Closing your eyes, the waves of ecstasy ripple throughout your body causing you to scream out in pleasure. Riding with you, Kakashi slowly continues to work you through your climax, cleaning up whatever juices spill over.

“Good girl,” He says to you while bringing your legs back down onto the bed. Slowly, he kisses up your thighs while hooking onto your thong, bringing it down off of them. While he does this, you reach around and unclasp your bra, throwing it aside. Once the thong is thrown aside as well, Kakashi lifts himself off the floor and flips you over so you're laying on your stomach, another smack landing on your ass cheek. The high from your orgasm is immediately replaced with anticipation for what he plans on doing to you next.

You feel Kakashi’s naked body slide on top of you until he's flush against your skin, his body completely enveloping yours. Once his face is level with yours, and his cock is hard against your backside, he brushes your hair away from your face.

“Are you ready for me?” Kakashi whispers into your ear.

You nod into the mattress, chest rising and falling with every strained breath.

“You need to use your words, (y/n),” Kakashi scolds you while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you, Kakashi. Please, I need you.” Your words come out as a plea, not being able to take his absence any longer.

You feel Kakashi’s weight lift off of you as he reaches around your waist and lifts it up so your ass is tilted upwards. From there you can feel him position his tip at your entrance, slowly rubbing it up and down to spread your wetness.

“Please, Kashi, I need your cock inside me,” you beg.

Without further hesitation, you feel every inch of him slide into your folds until he’s bottomed out inside you. The feeling of him deep within you sends you into euphoria and you can feel yourself tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Kakashi whispers.

Starting off slow, he pumps into you with control. You feel pleasure and pain as Kakashi kisses your neck while grabbing onto your hair. After each thrust you feel him going faster and harder, your bodies smacking against each other. To gain more leverage, he lifts off of you and brings you up onto your hands and knees. With his hand gripping your shoulder, he pumps into you with ferocity.

“For years I’ve touched myself thinking about getting to fuck you like this baby. You’re so beautiful and so good to me. Everything about your body draws me to you,” Kakashi says in between moans. You feel him start to twitch inside you, his thrusts getting more out of control. You look over your shoulder and meet his gaze.

“We deserve this baby. You deserve this. Give me everything.” You both know your words mean more than just sex, and Kakashi relishes them.

Lifting you up by your neck, Kakashi brings you toward him so you're both kneeling while he continues thrusting inside of you. He brings one hand around your front to circle your clit and the other cups your breast. Your hands lift up behind you to grab onto his face. Turning your head to him, you kiss him with every ounce of passion you have left. This new position is hitting you at your core and you can feel yourself tighten again. Kakashi must have felt it too, as he broke free from your mouth to tilt his head back in pleasure. Without exchanging words, you know you both are at your limit.

With a few last staggering thrusts, both of you reach climax in unison. Feeling yourself go limp, Kakashi wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. You feel streams of his hot semen pool inside of your contracting walls. With Kakashi’s moans singing in your ear, you can’t help but smirk at his vulnerability. With him still inside, you hold onto each other, trying to catch your breaths. After a few beats, you both begin to laugh at your exasperated states.

“Stay here, I’m going to get a towel,” Kakashi says while shifting out of you. After pulling a towel from the cupboard in your bathroom, Kakashi brings it to you and cleans up between your legs. Before you have time to move, Kakashi picks you up bridal style and spins you around in his arms.

You scream and start to laugh as he plants kisses all over your face. “Kakashi!”

“Hm?” he hums in your ear, pretending he didn’t just lift you with little to no effort.

Holding you up with one arm, he grabs a blanket off the bed and carries you to the chair in the corner of your room. There he sits down and places you sideways on his lap so you’re facing each other. He then takes the blanket and wraps it around you both so you can stay warm while cuddling each other. Kakashi has always had a knack for knowing exactly what you want at any given moment.

“I thought we could get some inspiration for our next round,” Kakashi says with a smirk as he pulls out a copy of Icha Icha Tactics from underneath the cushion.

“What? How did that get there?” you laugh.

“Oh, I have multiple copies of these everywhere,” he jokes, waving the book in the air.

You laugh and lightly hit his chest. Tucking the blanket up closer to your face, you lay your head down on Kakashi’s shoulder while he flips open to a page in the book.

Before he starts to read to you, Kakashi lifts your chin to kiss you. Every time your lips touch his, flashes of your joint past enters your mind. Although it was hard, and you faced many difficult trials on the way, you are forever thankful that you were both able to live long enough to experience these moments. You took care of each other, lifted each other up when they were in the dirt, and now you can finally share the love you’ve always held for each other. You wouldn’t change any of it. After your kiss, before pulling away from you, Kakashi looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you, (y/n).”

You smile up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I love you too, Kakashi. Forever.”

-

A/n cont.: Well, whattdaya think? :)

[rainofdaisies]

ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

Rodrick x Fem! reader

Basically, your little brother bullies Greg Heffley. So, basically this is a montage of Rodrick whooping your ass- you’re in for some trouble, yeah?

♟= 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽

Y/N = Your Name • E/C = Eye Colour • L/B/N = Little Brother Name

You leave the classroom, holding your books as you sighed heavily. Spanish sure was hard today, you thought as your grasp on your books were harder as you saw a tall, shaggy haired figure walking towards you.

Your face expression changed, your voice getting stuck in your throat. Not again, not again..not again. 

Bullying just started with mocking, teasing and so on. But, now it was getting harsher. You’d end up home with your back bruised and wiping your tears away.  

“Hey there, Dweeb!” He chuckles, pushing your head and nudging your shoulder. “Go step on a lego.” You groaned, your hands trembling slightly.

“So, when are you going to tell your asshole brother of yours to get away from Greg?”

”He doesn’t listen to me, so just leave me alone.”

You opened your locker open, trying to show no sentiment whatsoever and put your books in. A vein appeared on his forehead, his fists clenched, his teeth were gritted, his lips pursued, his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders tensed and his brown eyes glaring into your soul. Your eyes scanned Rodrick’s face, he looks angry…no, angry would be a euphemism, furious. 

He walked closer to you, keeping his glare on his face. As soon as your back reached a locker, he pinned you. “No no, seriously. I mean, seriously,” he snorted, “if he’s not going to lay off of my little brother, I will make sure blood will spill from your nostrils.” He went on, the mood around you flooding with tension.

You felt a hand grabbing the collar of your white shirt with the soft fabric of the knitted brown vest. You have seen him as irritated as this, but with the amount of venom in his words, you’ve never seen this before from him. He let you go, you dropping to your knees.

Why’re you doing this to me, L/B/N? The only moments you’ve spoken to me is for cash.

Thoughts flooded your head, he wouldn’t ever lay off Greg. To him, Greg was his vulnerable, little toy for his beatings. There was absolutely no way of him letting him go. The chances were close to being one in infinity.

You sit on the floor, the papers from your locker getting blown out from your locker by the wind from the open doors in the hallway.

Rodrick is cool!

Today we hung out.

?Cómo estás¿ (How are you?)

He stole the chocolates from he freezer

He’s talented at playing the drums! Löded Diper lmao

It hurts. How..did you fall so far?

All of those written with your pink gel pen years ago and ages ago.

All because of that gremlin of the brother of yours.

It devastated the connection between you and Rodrick.

Now, we’re just cats and dogs with memories.

————————————————-°•HOURS LATER

You got home and realized that bruises were formed on your knees, so then your decided to soak your knees in cold water. You remembered the times when Rodrick was friendly. He would get picked on but ever since his bullies were either expelled or suspended, he would act like he’s on the top of the world.

-FLASHBACK-

“Hey, Y/N! Meet my bandmates, Ward and Chris!” He exclaimed happily, his hands clasping on his drumsticks. The both of them waved at you and you all shook hands.

“So, what’s your band called?” You asked, looking at Rodrick excitedly. “I decided on…” he paused out of suspense, queing you to do a drumroll with your hands on your lap. “LÖDED DIPER!!!” He grinned, his voice lacing with excitement.

“Sounds amazing!” You complimented, which caused his cheeks to appear scarlet and his hands clammy. “T-Thanks..” He said, raking a hand through his hair.

You couldn’t help but admire his ideals. His grades were bad, but his imagination wasn’t as bad. He is an edgy emo punk on the outside, inside, he’s just a normal person with originality.

That’s how he was…back then.

-FLASHBACK END-

“I AM HOME!!!”

Your brother screamed, barging through the door and throwing his stuff to the side of the couch. You grab a towel that was resting on your shoulders and dry off your legs, walking to him.

“Hey, could you let Greg go?”

“Pfft! Why do you even care? He’s a lame prick.”

“C’mon, L/B/N. Just do it.”

“No! Why the heck would I do it?”

Silence enveloped in the atomsphere, perspiration dotting your forehead and your heart threatening to burst out of your chest.

“Just..DO IT UNLESS YOU WANT ME DEAD!!”

“Dead…?”

“YES! DEAD IDIOT! HIS FUCKING BROTHER WOULD MAKE ME BLEED IF YOU DON’T LAY HIM OFF!!”

“No, Y/N. You’re lying.”

He stormed off to his own room, paper at the side of his room’s door. He slammed the door closed, doing his own stuff in his room. He never wanted to hurt his sister, but if he stops, then Greg would win Holly Hills…Greg can’t win over her.

————————————————-°•THE NEXT DAY

After school, both Y/N and Rodrick went to pickup their siblings at Westmore Middle School. The school’s mascot being a hornet and being described as an ‘intellectual wasteland’ to most.

“WOOOO! GREGGY~!!”

“STOP PLEASE L/B/N-“

Holy crap, what’s happening?! You thought, rushing through the crowd and pushing the kids who were screaming ‘fight, fight, fight’ aside just to witness your little brother’s fist in Greg’s stomach.

“WHAT THE HELL?!-“

You yelled, both you and Rodrick split them up, your brother’s left side of his face bruised. As for Greg, he was fully bruised from head to feet. Rodrick’s eyes were burning with fury as he locked eyes with your as he approached you, fists clenched.

Oh crap.

You try to run but the shaggy-haired pulls you by the collar of your shirt and throws you to the ground, his fist punching you in the face which resulted in a nosebleed.

“Y/N, what did I say yesterday?!?”

The middle-schoolers faced were embedded with fear, encompassing your brother and Greg. They all backed up, Greg with his little amount of strength left also backed up and leaned against a wall, panting heavily.

Rodrick kicked your waist, which concluded with you rolling across the concrete floor between heavy breaths.

“NEXT TIME, LISTEN TO ME YOU BITCH!!”

He snapped, the veins on his neck popping out. He crouched down and moved his face closer to your ears, his lips brushing against them lightly. Your body shuddered in fear, sweat falling profusely.

“To get this clear, your brother is next after you~”

He chuckled, the smile on his face showing malicious intent as blood rushed to your head, making you dizzy.

“…WHAT THE SHIT RODRICK?!? WHEN DID YOU BECOME SUCH A MOTHERFUCKER!?!?”

You barked, your voice braided with outrage. You were tired of this shit, now this was your turn to snap at him. He grabs you by the shirt and brings you closer to his face.

“Excuse me?!”

“WE USED TO BE FRIENDS! BEST FRIENDS EVEN!!! I MADE YOUR FUCKING BULLIES PISS OFF! THE MOMENT THEY’RE GONE, YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME?! BECAUSE OF MY BROTHER?!?!?”

It gets silent, you sighed heavily and you felt like your heart was going to jump right out of you. The air around you both got tense and your nostrils were still bleeding, the blood dripping onto Rodrick’s violent hands. He lets you go, giving rise to the fact that you fell to the ground with a loud thump on the cold concrete.

He grabs Greg by the arm and drags him out, Greg’s face showing worry as he looks back at you (he might be a sociopath, but he has emotions too). The crowd scatters and L/B/N runs up to you to make sure you were fine. He hands you a tissue.

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N! I didn’t know you were serious about tha-“

“Get in the car..”

You said as you walked out, holding the tissue up to your bleeding nostrils.

I miss the old you, Rodrick Heffley.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Tale As Old As Time... (Part 5)

Ok, I’m going to keep this one short, but I will say I am very eager to see your reactions for this chapter because...I’m trying something I have not done before and am very nervous how well I have executed it. 

And also, thank you again for the incredible response, I feel so blown away and honored. So many of you have written such kind words, truly helps me want to keep writing. I am just as excited as you all for the upcoming chapters. 

Before we go into the story, let me just share two incredible fanworks that were inspired (inspired, how crazy is that??!!!) by this story. One is a lovely art piece by @rambheemlove which can be found here, and one is a smut interlude for a scene from chapter 4 from @teddybat24 that can be read here. 

Full work Ao3 Link. 

(Previous chapter) (Next chapter)

Onto Part 5...

///

Jai entered his room slowly. It was quiet, and dark. The diyas had been left unlit, so the only illumination came from the moon. The room seemed to almost glow with it though. A wind ran past him, sending goosebumps up his arms. He was in his usual get-up of black kurta and pyjamas.

The room was occupied. On his bed, in the center, sat a kneeling figure. It was male, with thick black hair laced with diamond that shimmered like stars. It’s arms were laden with bangles of gold and diamond, and its fingers gleamed with rings of all colors. It had strong shoulders, and muscled arms. It was wearing silk pyjamas of the purest white, and a loose white vest hung from it’s shoulders, wide open, leaving it bare-chested. It’s chest was solid, falling up and down as it breathed.

When Jai crossed the threshold the ethereal creature looked up at him with familiar honey dark eyes. Eyes lined with kajal, making them look big enough for Jai to fall into.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. A tremor ran through his body.

“Maharaj.” the creature wearing Kala Bhairava’s body called out to him. It felt like an invisible rope was tugging him closer, Jai completely helpless against the pull.

He reached the foot of the bed.

The creature rose up like it was made of water, practically floating across the bed till it was pressed up against his chest. It raised an arm to run a single fingernail down the side of his face, and continuing down his throat. It shifted its hand so it had its palm pressed up against Jai’s sternum. It began to trail lower.

Jai’s breaths were coming out in heavy pants, and he was sure his eyes were dilated wide open. Jai gripped its arm in a bruising hold that had the creature gasping. It had not blinked since he had locked eyes with it, and Jai could not look away either. He did, however, manage to dip his gaze down to where it’s plump lips had parted in a gasp.

“What are you doing?” he asked it.

The creature pouted at him as it threw its free arm around his shoulders, and pressed even closer against him till he could feel its breath against his face. He couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through him at that, or keep his eyes from falling shut when it leaned close to press its lips to Jai’s cheek, right above his stubble. It dragged its lips across his jaw. Jai gripped the footboard. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to please my Maharaj. I’ve been so lonely, and you have too…”

Jai wrapped an arm around its waist. “Stop.”

It groaned. “But Maharaj, why?”

It rubbed its nose against Jai’s cheekbone, looking at him with doe eyes that made him want to ruin it. His grip turned vicious, making it moan in pleasure as its head fell back. “Oh, Maharaj. Just like that.”

Jai couldn’t resist the temptation, he leaned forward and bit into that perfect column, sucking when the skin trembled beneath his mouth. The creature threaded one hand into his hair.

Suddenly they were flat on the bed, Jai between the creatures legs. Its tunic had fallen down to its elbows. Jai bit at one shoulder, hard enough to leave a perfect indent of his teeth. The creature moaned as it dropped a hand over its eyes, its chest beaded with sweat where it heaved. Jai snaked a hand up its side, the creature trembling beneath him. He leveraged himself off until he could see those eyes again, till he could snap at the kiss-swollen lips he hadn’t even tasted. They looked so very sweet.

“Come on, Maharaj, what are you waiting for?” The creature crooned as it threw a leg over his waist, slotting him more tightly against itself.

Jai leaned down, the ghost of a breath wafting over his face, until soft flesh met his lips-

Jai sat up in bed at the sound of his bedroom door bursting open, a knife halfway out of his scabbard and into the intruder’s room before he realized who had woken him.

“Annayya!” Kusa whimpered as he stumbled back from the edge of Jai’s knife.

Jai growled. “How ma-ma-many times do I need to tell you to not e-e-e-nter my chambers without permission?”

Jai pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, the afterimage of the dream still stuck to his eyelids. He took in a deep breath and exhaled. He willed his body back under his control.

“Oh come on, don’t be upset. I made breakfast! That’s why I came to wake you!” Kusa pleaded.

Jai grunted. “Which dishes should I avoid then?”

Kusa pouted at him. “That’s not fair Annayya, I have been practicing.”

“Yes, Arunama said how your concoc-c-ctions are doing wonders for killing all the rats that try to root around the kitchen.” Jai replied as he threw off the blankets and climbed out of bed, sliding into his slippers.

“Annayya.” Kusa whined.

Jai shot him an icy glare. “I have more important things to do than listen to your prattles. Is that the only reason you woke me?”

“See, even after I try to do nice things, you are so mean. Lava prepared some food too.” Kusa said, and not waiting for Jai to respond, grabbed his arm and pulled him to the royal family’s dining room.

It was grander than the one Kala Bhairava had been having his dinners in, with more light filtering in through the glass dome that sat above the center of the room. The walls were a more inviting cream in contrast to the darker maroon, and the table was smaller but with cushions lining its entire length.

Jai let himself be tugged and pushed into position, only letting Kusa get away with the manhandling because he had not quite shaken off the throes of his sleep yet.

“Annayya! Good morning!” Lava said as he entered the room from the kitchen, his customary bright smile in place. Besides Jai, Kusa had a smug grin on his face. Jai debated the consequences of kicking out his legs. Lava passed a tumbler with hot chai to Jai.

Jai grunted as he sipped at the chai. “What dishes did Kusa cook? I have important meetings today and cannot afford to be whatever kind of sick his food will make me.”

Kusa made a scandalized noise beside him as Lava winced. “Just the payasam.”

“Hey! I cut all the fruits today.”

“Right, but he didn’t do anything else, so I think those should be safe.”

“You dicks, ‘just the payasam’, it took me an hour to make that.” Kusa muttered darkly.

“A ten-year-old can make payasam in fifteen minutes.” Jai remarked dryly. Lava covered his mouth to hide his laughter.

Kusa glared at both his brothers. “Ungrateful bastards. I am never doing anything nice for you again.”

“That is the best news you have shared in a long time.” Jai replied, making Kusa growl. Jai finished his chai and set the tumbler on the table, standing up.

“Annayya, you’re not eating?” Lava asked, concerned.

“This idiot dragged me out of bed. You know I do not eat before bathing.”

Lava bowed his head, while Kusa just kept glaring, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked away.

“Of course Annayya. I will take the food back in to keep it warm.”

Jai flapped a hand at him. “Just send a tray to my room. I have work to do.”

“Wait you aren’t eating with us today either?” Lava asked, but Jai ignored him.

He turned to leave, only to stop again as Kaaka entered the room.

“Ah Maharaj, good, you are awake.”

Jai glared at him. Kaaka at least had the decency to look sheepish. “I’m afraid Sarkar-mantri wants to have a meeting with you today.”

Jai growled at the back of his throat. “Of course he does.”

“You can’t avoid him forever Raavana.” Kaaka advised.

Jai pressed at the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache starting. “Let me just bathe first.”

Jai left before anyone else could interrupt him, swiftly making his way into his chambers and into the bathing chambers. He startled the servants who were pouring the last of the hot water. They apologized profusely and scurried away, Jai watching them disappear. He just wanted to be left alone.

He pulled off his clothes, hissing as he stepped into the hot water. He sank down the marble stairs till the water reached his shoulders, leaning his head back against the strip of granite that lined the perimeter of the pool.

Brown eyes burning with a righteous anger flashed in his mind. Followed by those same eyes on the dream creature filled with equally passionate lust.

Jai clenched his fists as his body reacted to the images.

Tapan had reported Kala Bhairava had been quiet for the most part, just passively allowing Tapan to take him around the city. He said the soldier had mostly had questions about Jai himself. Why? What could that soldier be looking for?

Jai let his head fall back against the granite border. Why couldn’t he get the soldier out of his head?

He dragged his hand down his chest, hoping that if he relieved the tension, he could get some peace of mind.

///

Jai had just finished his breakfast and was making his way through some paperwork regarding the storage of the harvest from the southern district when he heard a knock on his study’s door.

“Enter.”

Lava entered without a fuss, closing the door behind him. Jai glanced up from his paperwork before focusing again. “Do you need something?”

“Ah, no, not exactly Annayya.”

“Are the preparations for Shivaratri co-complete?”

“Yes Annayya.”

“Did you meet with the priests? Do they need a-anything?”

“No Annayya.”

“Did K-k-kusa return whatever he ‘accidentally borrowed’ from the temple?”

A silence had Jai glaring up at a wincing Lava. “I’ll make sure he does Annayya.”

“Hmmm.”

“Will your wives be joining us?”

“Priya will Annayya. She knows to stay in the crowd. Simran will not be able to.”

Jai grunted. “Fine.”

Jai scratched out a few notes against the papers before realizing he hadn’t heard the door close. Lava was still standing in front of him with his arms crossed against his chest like a schoolboy.

“What?” he barked. Paperwork hurt his eyes from having to squint at the letters, and his rude wake up in the morning had not helped his patience.

“Nothing, Annayya. It’s just, I was, that is we were wondering-”

“Spit it out Lava.”

“It’s been almost twenty days since that soldier from Udhaigarh came to the palace. You have been spending most dinners with him. We feel like we barely see you anymore.”

“Do you have a problem with the soldier?”

“No, not at all. We don’t know him, that is the thing. We, will we get to meet him?”

Jai frowned. “Why?”

“Annayya?”

“Why would you want to meet him?”

“I…if he is going to be our guest long term, it is only polite to introduce ourselves.”

“He isn’t a guest.” Jai stated sharply.

That seemed to throw Lava. “Oh. Um. Forgive me Annayya. Um. What is he then…? Exactly?”

Jai would have liked to know the answer too, because he was not certain anymore.

“I have paperwork to do. If you are that curious, you can have him join you for dinner some night.”

“Him join us… are you also not going to be there Annayya?”

“When has Sarkar ever learned to shut his mouth? He will drag the meeting until midnight. Do not wait for me for tonight. And until I get his problem sorted, do not expect me for dinner.”

“It is not healthy for you to be skipping and eating so out of time Annayya.” Lava protested softly.

Jai glared at him. “Nor is it good for you to pretend to care so much now. Leave. Before I throw you out.”

Lava’s eyes flashed with hurt that caused a slight pang of guilt in Jai, but he would not fall for his younger brother’s deceptive eyes. The scars of childhood cut deep, and he was not going to be the idiot who stood without a shield in front of people who had hurt him without a second thought.

“Of course Annayya. Forgive me. I’ll leave you to your work.”

Lava turned to go, his chin practically touching his chest where he hung his head so low. Jai sighed. “Wait.”

Lava whipped back to him.

Jai shuffled through the papers till he found a few of the trade agreements he needed to go through and approve of. “Read these and g-g-get back to me by the end of the day. I want to know if we a-a-are being cheated.”

Lava’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the papers from Jai, nodding his head furiously. “Of course Annayya, I will go through these right away.”

With that Lava bowed again and left, exchanging greetings with an amused Kaaka who was stepping into the study.

“Your brothers seem particularly energetic this morning.” he noted.

Jai grunted. “Shall we get them neutered?”

Kaaka’s lips twitched into a smile. “Not just yet.”

Jai smirked back at him. “The preparations for tomorrow are finalized?”

Kaaka nodded, “Yes Raavana. The diamond tripunda has been delivered to the temple priests for safeguarding till the evening pooja.”

“Hmm.”

“Raavana.” Kaaka said as he grabbed the chair, pulling it closer to Jai’s desk.

Jai raised an eyebrow.

“We got information from Anand.”

Jai’s jaw clenched. “And?”

“Someone has definitely been dipping their hand into the royal coffers.”

“Is it-”

Kaaka shook his head. “Too soon to tell. Anand will keep looking. But be careful. Some of the ministers are not very happy you are not helping them get more wealth.”

“Fuck them. I am King. I-I take care of my own. I will not h-h-hand over gold to an overfed p-pig when there is a child starving on our streets.”

Kaaka laid a hand on Jai’s forearm. “I know Raavana. Calm down. Getting worked up now will not resolve our problems.”

Jai ground his teeth. “They wouldn’t be problems if we relieved them of their heads.”

Kaaka leveled him a look. “No, but it would be all the incentive the rest of their cronies need to turn the people against you and kill you. Have patience.”

Jai’s hand crumbled the paper he had been working on. Exhaling harshly, he straightened the paper out. “Fine.”

Kaaka hummed. “Tapan has taken your soldier out to the city again. Said he would take him down to the riverbanks if the weather held.”

Jai didn’t respond.

“I have no clue what exactly he is doing here Raavana. I don’t know what you want from him. But I will trust you to realize it soon enough.”

“He held a knife to me the other night, could have killed me.” Jai said.

Kaaka laughed before his eyes widened, practically leaping up from his chair. “You are serious?”

“At dinner. There was an… argument. I was not paying attention. He managed to hold a knife to my stomach. He could have killed me. But he didn’t.”

“That… what are you doing having Tapan show him around the city?” Kaaka yelled, “He should be locked away in the dungeons.”

Jai looked up at Kaaka, who looked outraged. “Kaaka, how many assassination attempts have been made against me this year?”

Kaaka’s jaw clenched. “Five.”

Jai hummed, turning to look out the window. “None of them came close, but I am sure if they had had the chance they would have killed me. Kala Bhairava…he was ri-ri-right there. I certainly would have been able to fight back, but he would have managed to wound me gravely. But he di-didn’t. And he didn’t back down.

My own b-b-brothers cower before me. But this man, I am holding him captive, he is entirely at my mercy, and still he is defiant. I-I-isn’t that …extraordinary?” When Jai turned back, Kaaka was gaping at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“I-you. Maharaj. I don’t understand.” Kaaka said, sounding genuinely confused.

Jai sighed. “Never mind. Le-leave him to me, he is not a threat f-for now.”

“You just told me he tried to kill you.”

“No. He got the chance and didn’t take it. Very different. Let Tapan watch over him.”

“Why Tapan?”

“Loyalty.”

“You think the soldier would try to conspire against you with your own guards?”

Jai paused. Would he? It hadn’t been an attempt though. It was Kala Bhairava reminding him he had a lion caged up, not a house cat, and he still had all his teeth.

It was Kala Bhairava saying not to underestimate him.

Jai had learned that lesson.

“Can I t-t-trust my guards regardless? I still do not know which minister would just as easily s-s-stab me as nod along to my rulings.”

“I don’t like that your bedchambers are unguarded.”

“And you have said so many times. I-I do not want them.”

“Maharaj…”

“I’ve made my decision Kaaka. Go s-s-see to your other duties. And keep an eye on Anand.”

Kaaka stood, bowing to Jai.

“Oh, and Kaaka?”

“Maharaj?”

“Tell Tapan he is to e-e-escort Kala Bhairava to the Shivaratri celebrations tomorrow if he wishes to join. Tell Na-na-nandhini to attend to him.”

“Nandhini? Are you certain?” Kaaka asked, surprised.

Jai stared back.

“As you wish.” Kaaka said, bowing again before he also exited the study. Jai leaned back in his chair, turning back to the window. He closed his eyes, slowing down his breathing. He fiddled with his ruby ring.

Brown eyes lined with kajal burned him from the inside.

He stood up. A walk and some fresh air would do him some good.

 ///

The first scene was of course inspired by this piece by our beloved @burningsheepcrown​

///

Do you guys feel ok with the pacing of the story? Am I dragging this?

Feedback is appreciated.

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you):  @rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @junebugyeahhh @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @bluesolace1 @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24​ @sally-for-sally​ @ssabriel​ @jadebomani​ @stuckyandlarrystuff​ @veteran-fanperson​ @ohfuckoffpls​

[smurphyse]

Blowed Up | S.R.

Smurph's Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Chapter 10 of Operation: Sand Leopard

Warnings: canon typical stories, blood, stitches, grief, anxiety, fear, explosions, death, mentions of Maeve, drugged up flirting

Summary: Spencer wakes up in the aftermath of the explosion

Everything hurt. 

Spencer's eyes were on a blurry swivel as he opened them, struggling and failing to focus on anything amidst the dull screaming around him. When he sat up a wet heat pressed against his side, and shakily he patted his ribcage only to pull back a palm stained with blood. 

It didn't hurt, and he knew it should. His head rocked back and forth as he struggled to keep it up, and as his vision finally cleared he noticed the shrill ringing in his ears. People were running across the square, shouting and desperately trying to escape the blast zone. 

He knew it was just his broken and fractured mind trying to figure out the danger, but as he looked off among the sea of bodies and screaming people, he swore he saw Maeve, smiling sadly at him and pointing to a rock pile. Spencer blinked and she was gone, so he rubbed his eyes roughly with his bloodied hands.

Swallowing heavily, his throat dry and parched even though he could taste blood in his mouth, he looked around for the unit. 

Morello, Peanut, and Barretti were pulling people from the rubble and pointing toward safe places for them to run, Garrett and Mercer were running toward the spot of the initial blast, where the boy was no longer. 

Groaning, Spencer got to his knees to stand, but they buckled when he spotted what at first glance looked like a rope between some heavy rocks. He scrambled closer, the breath leaving him in a heavy gust as he realized what it was. 

One of your braids. 

"No, no, no, no," Spencer whispered raggedly. His rifle dangled uselessly around his shoulders as hands slipped along a piece of concrete as he tried to lift it, so he wiped them along the tops of his dust caked pants and tried again. 

He let out a grunting yell as he lifted the boulder, letting it tumble down the other side to reveal your face. Even though it was horrific, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw your fluttering pulse along the column of your throat. You were caked in blood and dirt, but luckily your helmet had prevented too much damage from the exploding walls. 

He cleared as many of the rocks from you as he could before cradling your head in his hands. You groaned but your eyes didn't open, and Spencer took that at least as a good sign. 

"Hey, hey," he whispered, patting your cheek and wiping away some of the blood with his thumb. “Y/N, look at me, huh?”

A jagged gash trailed along the left side of your head, starting at the height of your cheekbone and going deep into your scalp as whatever shrapnel had ripped through your helmet strap and around your skull. Your skin was already starting to bruise, and there was more blood spattered across your shoulder and side. 

He lifted you gently, lacing his hands under your neck and knees and pulling you to his chest. As he settled you to carry you to safety, he gasped in horrified shock.

Underneath you was the grunt that had been angrily grumbling about the mission, and Spencer knew right away that he was dead. No more than twenty five, his blue eyes bored an empty hole into the sky, his mouth hung limply open.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, but he turned from the boy and carried you under an awning. 

Setting you carefully in the sand, Spencer took your helmet the rest of the way off to inspect your wounds. You'd been standing in front of him when the bomb went off, and bits of blood and bone had embedded themselves in your Kevlar. He assumed if it had gotten in that deep it must have been what tore through his own tactical vest. 

Most of the blood was coming from your head, but there was a nasty gash on your arm and shoulder. He looked around frantically around the merchant place for something to use, and when he spotted a pile of tunics he grabbed them and settled next to you. 

"Boss!" Garrett's voice came, searching the rubble with Mercer. He groaned when he saw the body of the kid in the rocks, but his eyes never stopped moving. Mercer dropped to his knees and started pushing more rocks away from the boy, letting out a guttural yell when he came to the same conclusion Spencer had. 

"Over here!" Spencer called, and their gazes snapped over. 

Spencer pressed one of the tunics against your head, but he could already tell it would need some serious stitches. The cut was deep and long, and he knew it was going to scar. 

He really didn't like the idea of you having any more than he'd already seen. 

"Jesus fuck, Y/N," Garrett murmured, kneeling next to Spencer. He went to work pressing the other fabrics into your arm, and you let out a sharp cry as your eyes flew open. 

Spencer and Garrett struggled to hold you down, and you clawed at their arms as your hazy gaze landed on Mercer. You huffed and panted, but they pulled you back until you landed heavily back in the sand. 

"Teddy?" you gasped, your blurry eyes struggling to see Mercer. Garrett and Mercer shared a look, but Spencer was too preoccupied with keeping you still to really notice. You were injured, and just like he had, were conjuring images from your past to comfort your damaged mind.

Your left eye was pooling with blood, no doubt from the impact of the rocks hitting your head, a black eye already forming. 

Mercer got slowly to his knees and ran his hand over your forehead, and you relaxed into the dirt. He sighed and said in a softer tone than Spencer had ever heard come from him, "We're gonna get you some help, Y/N, relax. Okay?"

You nodded, still clutching Spencer's arm as all the fight seemed to leave your body. He pressed the fabric into your cheek, but your fuzzy focus never left Mercer, watching him through a blur of blood and watery eyes. 

About ten minutes later another three units arrived, setting a perimeter around the blast site and sending in medics to treat the wounded. They came and took you from him, loading you up and away before he could say anything, lightning fast and trained in such things. 

Mercer put a heavy hand on his shoulder as he watched the trucks drive back toward base. They locked eyes, and Mercer just squeezed him and muttered, "C'mon, Doc, the backup will take care of the scene."

He spotted a few people loading up the dead soldier as they made their way to the convoy. Mercer slowed, and he turned enough to say, "I'm going with Hitchens."

That was when Spencer realized how he knew the kid. He'd been the one on mail day with letters from Kristi with an I, Brandy with a Y, and Krystal with a K and a Y. 

Anders' voice came to the surface, heckling and jesting the boy along with the entire DFAC. He swallowed as he wondered if any of those girls would know what happened to him, if he had any family. 

Then Garrett was pulling him into the humvee and they were off again. Unlike the way in, Barretti didn't play any music, and they spent the entire drive in heavy silence. 

Spencer's mind traveled a thousand miles faster than the humvee, going over the imaginings of his own funeral, replaced with the faceless friends and family of Hitchens. He closed his eyes and leaned against the seat rest, his head pounding and his soul ripping itself apart. 

He'd thought foolishly that coming to Iraq and doing work for Homeland would heal something in him, maybe even give him a new direction in life. Spencer had wanted something that would tell him what to do, where to go. 

Instead he found himself going anywhere, instead of somewhere. 

You weren't even here to tell him what he should do. He didn't even know if you were going to wake up. 

Part of him thought there would be a relief in giving into destruction… a peace of sorts. 

Now he realized he was likely to leave more haunted than he was when he came. 

--------------

When the convoy pulled into base, Spencer found himself gawking out the windows. 

Soldiers and flyboys alike lined up along the path to the infirmary. His stomach twisted in knots, for as they passed each one saluted the humvee in front of them. They saluted Hitchens. 

They waited in silence as the medics unloaded his body on a stretcher, disappearing into a tent. Spencer just followed Garrett's lead, and averted his eyes when Mercer and the rest of his damaged unit passed. 

The guilt coursing through him was intense, boiling his veins even though he knew it wasn't his fault, or even the unit's. They'd all been injured in the explosion, but he couldn't help but wonder…

Why hadn't he noticed the boy with the bomb sooner?

Shaking his head to dispel those intrusive thoughts that he knew came with his long since diagnosed PTSS, he followed the unit into the tents. His head snapped up as soon as they stepped inside, your voice booming through the canvas tarp and followed by a rattling of thrown medical supplies. 

"... know where the fuck my team is!" he heard you snarl, and a relieved laugh burst from his chest. 

Peanut shook her head and pushed forward, pulling aside a tent flap and they all followed closely behind. Morello and Barretti laughed heartily as they all spotted you, while Garrett just crossed his arms and sighed. 

In just your pants and sports bra, you pointed a finger at a young doctor as you laid on the bed, "Don't come at me with that fucking needle, Chang, I swear to God I'll bite your fucking hand off!"

"Boss," Garrett snapped, and your head swiveled to see him. 

A happy smile cracked across your tired face, blood caked in your hair, face and arm. Your hair had been pulled from its braids, falling down your back and landing on the pillow behind you. Spencer had never seen it down before, always thrown in a ponytail or braided tightly back. It looked good on you. 

Clapping a hand on top of your head, you sighed, "You guys are okay."

"Couple of bumps and bruises," Barretti chuckled, and he waved a hand at Spencer. "Doc needs some stitches, though… doc."

He frowned as his brain thought about the grammatical blunder, but everyone laughed. You beckoned a hand at Spencer, "Let me look at you."

He unstrapped the tactical jacket and set his rifle on a table before making his way over to you. You reached out and tugged on his shirt, forcing him to sit on the bed. 

Running your hand along his side, Spencer inhaled sharply, and you hissed an apology… but that wasn't why he'd done so. 

Your touch sent a shivering jolt up his spine, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh as he settled in next to you. He could feel your heat through his pants as his thigh rested against yours, and when you pulled aside the torn cotton of his shirt to look at his wound he found himself searching you for any of your own he'd missed. 

Your eye was less swollen, but still very bruised and the white bloodied from the impact. The doctor had already stitched up the side of your head, and the path from where he cleaned your wound was the only thing that had cut through the blood staining your skin. 

Your chest and left arm were covered in stitches and bruises from the impact of the shrapnel hitting you, but you didn't seem to care as you dreamily looked at his stomach. 

The scent of iodine and copper filled the air, and without warning you gripped the hole in his shirt and ripped it open. 

"Hey!" Spencer cried out, and you broke out in a fit of giggles. 

"Tis but a scratch, Doctor Reid," you said in a bad British accent, and Spencer looked horrified at Dr. Chang. "Get naked."

He shrugged, "She's doped up."

A chorus of ahhs came from the unit, and Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, "She's a whore when she's drunk, too, Doc. Don't take it personal."

You patted his chest and grinned up at him, "You should probably take your shirt off."

"Riiiight," Spencer drawled, and he eased your hand from its death grip on his collar. He stood by the edge of the bed and gripped the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

It earned him a further chorus of whistles as the unit settled on cots to get their own bruises checked on, and he hoped the heat in his cheeks didn't show too much. When you winked at him he shook his head and sat back down next to you, avoiding your gaze. 

He leaned back so the doctor could stitch him up, putting out a firm hand when he tried to give him something for the pain. Doctor Chang simply nodded and went to work. 

You kept poking him on his other side with every stitch, flashing him a cheeky grin every time he glared down at you. It took him until the sixth one to realize you were doing it to distract him, because you were the only one who knew he didn't want the drugs. 

He ended up holding your hand under the sheet for the last three. 

Notes: Please let me know how you enjoyed this! Feedback is incredibly meaningful and only helps me write more!&lt;3

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[ellcsgreenaway]

Home

summary: a rewrite of the ending of 6x18 lauren - if emily beat doyle and the team arrived in time

warnings: blood (nothing graphic but descriptions), death, nausea (no vomit)

words: 2.3k

She stands straight and the cold grips her, pushing any remaining air out of her lungs. She questions if the dark is betraying the scene before her or perhaps she really had hit her head too hard for the sight to be a reality.

She blinks hard, so hard it hurts, drawing lines of pain from behind her eyes through to the back of her head and neck. She opens them to be met with a headrush and once the black spots clear she sees all of it again. Who knew this is how it would end?

She hears shouting, muffled and echoed by the warehouse’s structure and she turns to look at the doorway and then back to the man on the floor. The man who’s stance would flood her with shame and trepidation. Piercing eyes that would split her in half and leave her in aching pieces for only herself to fumble and pick up. Calloused hands, once gentle for her, had turned and almost taken everything from her all over again. Those eyes are dead now, and those hands will never touch her again. They can’t wound her anymore.

It starts as shuffles, her feet dragging because they are too heavy. Why are they so heavy? The battle is over, the war is won. So why do her arms feel like they’re pulling her down around her bruised waist?

She can hear Derek. He is the shouting she can hear.

She bows her head, just a heavy weight on her neck, her hair falling in front of her face. She’s picking up her feet now but her knees hurt and her hips are stiff. She holds her elbows like it’ll provide some sort of comfort but it makes her shoulders feel too wide and her collarbones too prominent.

She can taste the blood on her lips, crusted and flakey. It makes her shiver and draw in a sharp breath, the cold air bringing sharp pain as it fills her lungs. The shouting is getting closer. She wonders how much longer it’ll be until they find her - until they find him.

Her head pounds and the brand stings ferociously, like he lives on in her pain. It makes her want to claw at her skin, sob and scream while she distorts the image slowly with stubby fingers - her nails nowhere near long enough to create any immediate palpable effect.

She thinks about home. What is home after this? Is there home after this? Home hasn’t felt like home in such a long time, ever since that dreadful night with Sean. The ones who did know are gone and the ones who didn’t know now know. What will she have after this? A career? A team? Will they be there after this? Will she have anyone after this?

She stumbles under the harsh light, a choked sound passing her lips as she bends further forward at her hips and brings the back of her hand to shield her eyes.

“Guns down!”

Derek.

She feels his presence before she’s able to look at him. She doesn’t want to look at him, to see what he looks like when he sees her.

He’s before her in a second, his hands on her side and ducking to see her face.

“Emily? It’s me, it’s okay.”

He takes her hand from her face to find her eyes closed, her face bruised, her nose bleeding and her lip trembling. Her hands find new places on his shoulders as he takes her into his chest with big arms gently around her waist and shoulders.

“I’ve got you baby.”

He instructs someone to go on and another to stay with the two of them but it’s all lost to her. She cowers further into his embrace, shielding her face into the safety of his skin. Everything is becoming much too heavy.

“Are you hurt, Princess?” he says in a small voice laced with solicitude. “I need to know if you’re hurt.”

She makes no effort to reply and she feels him twist to speak into his vest in a calmer tone, “I’ve got her, get the medics on standby.”

She can hear the murmur of the team’s voices on the receiving end and it acts as another weight pressing deep between her shoulders. Something else she can’t take on and process right now and it’s like her last line of defence crumbles. Her knees buckle and her feet give her away with Derek’s grip tightening on her hastily.

He picks her up, swinging her legs up bent at the knee over one arm as his other secures her back. Her own arms drop with her face still pressed into his neck - his skin is warm, a stark contrast to the air. He smells of perspiration and gunfire residue. She wishes he smelt more like the detergent he uses on his best shirts, the ones he wears for court. It’s distinct and so different from this place. She could smell that detergent anywhere and it would always remind her of him. She wishes he smelt like that now.

“Arms around my neck sweetheart, let’s get out of here,” he whispers through her hair and straight into her ear. She can almost feel each word flow into her head and her cumbersome arms lift of their own accord resting on his shoulders. She interlocks her fingers, desperate to stay with him and bask in this safety that she hasn’t felt in months.

The air whips past as they move, a methodic and easing rhythm takes over her body as she shifts against him with each stride. It gets very loud very quickly and he can feel her wet eyelashes and the smear of her blood against the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

She can’t think. Of anything. Her mind working both too fast and too slow simultaneously. Nothing feels okay, everything is at an angle that makes her feel deeply nauseated, the sickness spreading like the embedded physical pain from her stomach through each limb to the end of her fingers and toes. None of what has happened was supposed to happen, her whole world turned on its axis and left there for her to navigate. She briefly wonders if this is what it feels like to be a sailor lost at sea, the thought falls through the gaps of the sieve that is her mind quickly.

The outside cold catches her off guard and she flinches hard, with her fingers threatening to unlock from each other but her arms remain loosely around Derek's shoulders. He hides his lower face into her own shoulder and hair, holding her as close as possible as others gather.

Soft hands take her own from her behind Derek’s head, they’re too soft to be anyone’s but JJ’s, perhaps Penelope’s. It sends what remains of her head into a tailspin. Why would they be here? The hands gently squeeze her own and she feels long nails press ever so slightly into her skin - it’s JJ. But JJ wouldn’t be here, would she? Emily’s fingers curl around them regardless, as if out of instinct. She doesn’t trust her mind enough to let her believe that JJ is truly there, but the supposed feeling of her is more than enough right now.

A large warm hand comes to the middle of her back with a strong deep yell directing an ambulance that could only belong to Hotch. She hears a disjointed whisper of “found him” and “south side” and a small whimper leaves her, muffled into Derek’s vest but still loud enough to draw concerned eyes and another large hand with long nails to the back of her head - Spencer’s.

She is overwhelmingly tired, the heaviness having reached its maximum, and the smoothing of her hair by Spencer’s delicate touch lulls her thoughts to nothing again. Derek adjusts her against him and leans into her closely. He tells her they're going to a hospital soon, that the ambulance is almost here and she mumbles incoherently into his vest.

“What was that Em?”

A strong wave of drowsiness overcomes her enough to forget to repeat herself, everything is so heavy.

“C’mon princess talk to me,” his voice is quiet but a whine nonetheless, “please.”

Her fingers let go of each other, one arm held up by JJ’s hold and the other comes around to rub her eye as she turns her face slightly into view of Derek and Hotch.

“So tired,” she repeats pitifully.

Her head is spinning at the small catches of light that filter through her fingers to her eyes so she hides herself back in Derek. Her head continues to spin even after her eyes are closed and her face is concealed. Words are spoken to her but they are incomprehensible. She doesn’t know when the darkness of her eyelids turns into the darkness of unconsciousness.

She wakes what must be hours later.

It’s so much warmer and more comfortable. Any pain is bearable, dull in her apprehension of her surroundings. A hospital. The air is clean and fresh, explained by the open window to the right of her. The lighting is grey, not dark but no source of light emitting from inside the room. A thin mesh-like blind is pulled halfway down the window and the brightness from the hall beyond the door is spilling through the slits in the shuttered blind to her other side. It must be either dawn or dusk, light fading into or out of the sky she did not know.

The blanket is soft and she is surprised to see that it was covered with another, knitted with thick pink and white wool with a huge yellow sun in its centre. It gives her strong consolation as she recognises it as Penelope’s and her mind travels back to the day she burst from her office into the bullpen holding it out with wide arms. Hotch hadn’t been too pleased that she had spent her day knitting a blanket but even he couldn’t keep a straight face at her abundance of happiness and pride from completing the task.

Emily rubs the corner between two fingers and her thumb and turns her head to see more of the room, the feel of the nose cannula shifting alerting her to its presence. JJ and Spencer are to her immediate right, both bent double in hospital chairs with their faces buried in their folded arms on the edge of her bed, gentle snores and the occasional murmur emitting from messy tawny curls. Dave is behind them, leaned back in an identical chair, his legs straight out in front of him with one foot crossed over the other. He’s also asleep, fingers interlocked over his lap and his head tilted forward. She thinks that can’t be good for his neck.

Her thoughts are disturbed by long gentle fingers slipping into her grip, causing her to drop the corner of the woollen blanket. She turns her head to her left and is met with warm brown eyes full of compassion and relief. She feels the familiar prick of a million tiny needles in her eyes, tears threatening to flood her lash line as Derek’s face reflects the affable smile that takes over her.

He leans away for a moment to nudge Penelope, who is next to him and in the same position as Spencer and JJ. The blonde stirs immediately, high alert becoming excited relief.

Her high pitch greetings arouses Hotch behind them, lifting his head from his hand propped up on the arm of the chair to meet the delightful commotion. Ashley is next to him, her usual perfect curls hanging limp around the frame of her face but her features are graced with her usual “picture-perfect” smile as Penelope loves to call it. The three to her right were awake now too.

It must be dawn Emily thinks to herself.

JJ’s fingers rake gently through her hair, tugging lightly on small knots until they give way. Hotch steps out to make the necessary phone calls while Ashley and Dave leave together in hunt of coffee for all of them. There’s a clock on the wall in front of her - it reads 6:37am. Dawn.

Spencer gives her a run down of her condition and when the first shift of the nurses starts. JJ interrupts his rambling of the hospital’s schedule to say she should be discharged later today and that everything else has already been, or is in the process of being, taken care of.

Emily breathes a long exhale. She hasn’t said anything. She doesn’t know if there’s anything to say, at least not yet.

Penelope busies herself with smoothing out her blanket and Spencer jumps up to help Dave and Ashley carry in six coffees.

“You’ve still got time, why don’t you sleep some more?” JJ smiles, her eyes tell of her genuinity that her suggestion is solely out of concern.

Emily nods at that, her eyes drooping already. She doesn’t know how long she has slept already. What she does know is that Derek is still holding her hand after her eyes are closed, that Penelope harshly shushed Spencer which lead to JJ’s audible break into a smile - Emily can picture Spencer feigning outrage at the accusation of making too much noise. The door clicks and the shuffling from behind Derek tells her Hotch is back and JJ’s fingers haven’t stopped brushing through her hair.

Maybe there is a home after this, a life with a promising career and a loving, caring team. Maybe it’s a little rocky at first - she knows she can’t change the trust that has already been broken and the unthinkable fear she instilled in them all - but it’s still a home.

She drifts back into deep slumber knowing that there is a home because they’re all here with her and without any intention of leaving.

thank you for reading! tagging some mutuals <3: @writingquillsandpainpills @temilyrights @proselys @greenaways-girl @themoontaxi @hotch-girl @reidselle @deadravenclaw @nervous-tic @emilyprentissisgod @fightingdragonswithreid @ropoto @lovegnome @hotchner-clemmons @ssa-sapphic @angelictimelord2 @starrylang

[twoheartshookingup]

Danger | j.s.

Summary: after things nearly go horribly wrong at work for Street, you get your revenge. Kind of. For @smaoineamhsalach my partner in crime.

Warnings: bondage, blindfolds, lingerie, cock rings, orgasm delay, no condoms mentioned, piv sex, fingering, vibrators.

—

“Hey, Baby,” you cooed from behind the armchair, your boyfriend sitting there motionless as Street cocked his head to try work out where you were. His arms and legs were tied loosely to the frame, enough give that if he wanted out he could get out himself. The scarf around his eyes was enough of a blindfold, and his lips were pouting.

“Can I see you?” He asked, but you just tutted, running a finger along his bicep to his tanned collarbone.

“No can do, Sweetie. You know the rules, don’t you?” He nodded, gasping as you wrapped your hands around his cock and squeezed gently. Street was totally naked in front of you, erect and straining against his stomach.

“I’m sorry, sorry!” You jerked him slowly, smiling as he gasped and bucked against you.

“I know. But you need to learn how to behave, don’t you? You can’t go running into danger.” You moved around, your underwear covered core gliding against him, making him groan and gasp.

“I won’t. I promise. I won’t. I’m sorry. Please?” You took the scarf from around his eyes, watching as he adjusted to the dim light, the look of awe on his face as he took in the lace lingerie you were wearing. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Such a good boy, complimenting me.” He blushed and looked down, your hand cupping his cheek as he tried to avert his gaze. “You really are sorry for running into that restaurant, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know his job was intense, that he put himself in danger regularly. But you’d been the one on the 911 call, listening to one of the hostages whisper what was happening to you. You’d heard the gunshot that had hit his vest, a dark purple circular bruise radiating out from his chest.

“I am. I just…I couldn’t risk them.”

“You can’t risk yourself either.”

You pulled him into a kiss, feeling how his hips bucked slightly underneath you while you ground down onto him. Your hands ran through his hair, tugging lightly to hear that beautiful groan he made.

“One minute.” It was a soft kiss to his lips that made him smile, followed by you standing up and turning around so he could see the full expanse of the royal blue lace covering your body. The contrast against your skin looked magnificent, and he stared like a starving man. When you bent over you bent from the hips, making sure he saw your ass on full display before you pulled out your favourite cock ring for him. It was silicone, large enough to fit around his balls but tight enough that he wasn’t going to cum until you let him. The whole point of tonight, really.

“I said I was sorry!” He exclaimed as he took stock of what you had, but you just shook your head.

“And this will make the lesson stick.” When you got beside him you bent down, lips nearly touching his ear. “Colour?”

“I’m so green right now.” You both smiled, tension leaving your body as you bent over to slip it on and get the catch done correctly. As you worked you positioned your chest just in front of him, making sure he was paying attention to that rather than your actions. But finally it was on, dick erect and leaking precum to make you smile.

You went back into position on his lap, smiling as his desperation to hold you was clear. But Street behaved, his hands staying in position as you half humped him to get some of his gorgeous moans from him.

When you sat back slightly he looked at you worriedly, but all you did was pull your underwear to the side and guide him into you, causing a strangled groan as his head fell back in pleasure. He hadn’t seen the second item you’d brought across, and the first moment he noticed the bullet vibe was when you pushed it to you and switched it on while you used his shoulders for leverage to fuck him.

It was desperate and messy, bites and lovemarks littering both of your chests and you groaned and treated him like your own dildo with reckless abandon. Not that he complained, enthusiastically attempting to thrust into you even with how he was tied. He hit the perfect point as he did, pleasure building and building until you came with a shout, leaning against his sweaty chest and holding onto him as you came down from your high.

“I love you,” Street murmured, one of his hands freed to hold you tightly. You weren’t complaining, his warmth wrapped around you as you relaxed into him with a smile.

“I love you too, you reckless fool.” You reached up for a kiss, Street pulling you in for one. But once you separated he stood, fully free and holding you against him.

“My turn.”

He half threw, half lay you onto the bed and you got to watch him remove the cock ring, using your slick to jerk himself off for a moment. There was lust clear on his face, caging you in his arms as he pushed your legs apart. One hand moved down over your sensitive skin, feeling how desperate you were for him.

“So good like this. I’m going to enjoy this one, aren’t I?”

Before you could answer there was the sound of fabric ripping and he slid in, filling you totally. Instead of your slower pace Street pounded into you, lips attached to your collarbone as he sucked marks up and down your chest. All you could do was feel as he pushed you towards your second orgasm of the night, holding onto him as the pleasure overwhelmed you. It wasn’t long until he did the same, falling onto his side and pulling you close for a few moments as your breathing both calmed.

“I promise, never again,” he murmured in the quiet of your bedroom, Street’s face pensive. “I don’t want you to worry like that again.”

You didn’t respond but just curled into him. You knew exactly what kind of man he was when you started dating, you’d no reason to think he’d change now. And you were still going to love him just as hard.

[jesswritesthat]

Ushijima Wakatoshi: Interpretation

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: fluff and fun

• Stunning your team into silence is always fun, but their assumptions were equally as surprising.

Warnings: established relationship, slightly suggestive

>>>>——————————>

It was a sweltering day in Miyagi, one that would warrant wearing a vest to practice accompanied by your boyfriends oversized track jacket draping across your shoulders.

Although - it was a dress choice you’d live to regret as the fabric slipped from its position as you stretched.

"(L/n)-Senpai you're hurt! Do you need some ice for those bruises?!" The outcry and worrisome fussing of Goshiki hailed the attention of your team. Shiratorizawa were used to the outbursts of their self-proclaimed future Ace and usually paid them no mind, but it was a different matter entirely when your well-being was what he spoke of.

“It’s all good, just a bit sensitive.” You humbly assured, delicately tapping your shoulder as evidence - but with a team of entertaining boys, nothing was that easy.

"Oho (Y/n)! Looks like you had some fun last night hm?" Echoed Tendōs’ insinuative tone from behind you, peering over your shoulder with a playful grin.

"Satori!”

“Wait Senpai, you mean this was Ushijimas’ doing? How—“

Embarrassment ravaged you, the teasing of the third years you could handle but tainting the innocence of younger teammates had you hurriedly shushing the redhead.

The last thing they expected was Wakatoshi hovering over you with concern lacing into the considerate furrow of his eyebrows, nor the tentative outline his fingers delicately traced along your bruised skin.

"I'm sorry (Y/n), I hadn't meant to be so rough with you."

Tendō choked, staring at the two of you in disbelief since he’d only been joking - now the rest of the team stared on in surprise, subtle smirks besmirching a few faces as you confidently coughed before speaking.

"We were practicing yesterday, and I couldn't receive his serve properly so it hit me - hard."

Ominous silence filled the gymnasium, a scuffle soon followed by muttered noises of nonchalant understanding as they resumed their warm ups.

"I'll get some ice, as this was my doing. I'll also aim to teach you better receives."

Tendō issued a knowing pat to your back alongside his best friends words, and nodded to flustered Goshiki who was quick to follow him onto the court.

Once alone, Ushijima cast another analytic gaze across your colourful skin, then gently tilted your chin up to meet his softer irises.

"I assumed your bruises were from kissing you and such last night, I apologise for the miscommunication."

A mischievous smirk crossed your lips, shrugging the material from you opposing side with the aftermath of his intoxicating heated touches coming into view.

"No worries Toshi, those are on the other side, see?"

<——————————<<<<

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