#final prompt

[shadowpupartz]

Rooney is very gay.

Art Prompt List:

Prompt list made by: @HappySpinGull on DeviantArt

@fading-bisexual-queen-milkshake @emo-metalhead-punki @adams-selfships

[loopstagirl]

Home

And here we are, the final prompt! For @febuwhump day 28: recovery

-x-

Virgil cursed as he tried to reach the cushion. It had slipped from under his propped up leg, but negotiating retrieving it was too much effort. Instead, his upper body just sort of flopped, leaving him more stuck than before, and still with no cushion. 

“Interesting,” an amused voice said from the doorway.  

Virgil looked up and found himself sagging in relief that Scott had at least still got the sling on. With his left leg in a cast, Virgil wasn’t exactly up to chasing his brother around the house to try and make him support his fractured wrist. 

“You gonna help or not?” 

“More curious to see how you’re going to get out of this.” 

“Come on,” Virgil wheedled. “Give me a hand.” 

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Starting with the jokes already?” 

“What?” Virgil stared at him nonplussed. Scott accepted his innocence and crossed the room. He seized Virgil’s upper arm with his good hand and hauled him back into an upright position before bending to get the cushion, sliding it back under his leg. 

“Need anything?” 

Virgil shook his head. What he needed was to not have a broken leg and a broken Thunderbird. He needed to not stress about the fact they were offline and Scott was standing there with his arm in a sling. But his brother couldn’t help with any of that and if Virgil admitted any of it, Scott was likely to try and do something like fix it, which he was in no state to do. 

Scott sat down next to him, leaning back with a long groan and closing his eyes. 

“I’m getting old,” he grumbled. “This many places shouldn’t hurt.” 

“Not sure that’s age,” Virgil said, “I think that might be more related to the building that fell on top of you.” 

“Us.” 

“Huh?” 

“Fell on top of us. You’re worse than I am, right now.” 

“I was further in,” Virgil muttered. He lent back himself. He was aiming for the pillow behind him, but somehow, his head landed on Scott’s shoulder instead. Neither of them said anything. 

They sat in a companionable silence for a few moments. They didn’t have the energy for idle talk and knew the other felt the same. But they weren’t left waiting for long. 

If Scott felt old, it was nothing compared to how John must’ve been feeling given the shuffling walk he entered the room with. His groan was twice as long as he sank onto the cushions the other side of Scott. 

“I’m never getting up again,” he grumbled. 

Virgil winced sympathetically. It had been a rough re-entry and Three hadn’t given her passengers an easy time of it. Alan was limping around complaining about whiplash, but John had forgone the usual gentle re-entry to Earth’s atmosphere. They’d only just avoided landing with a literal bang. His brother was feeling his introduction to gravity more than usual. 

“Head still bad?” Virgil asked, taking John’s grunt as affirmation given he couldn’t actually see his brother over Scott’s broad shoulders. He grabbed the bottle of painkillers beside him and passed them over Scott’s head. 

“Didn’t offer me any,” Scott muttered. Virgil snorted. 

“You wouldn’t have taken them.” 

“Not the point.” 

They managed to pass over a glass of water without it spilling on anyone and John sighed in relief as he swallowed the painkillers. 

Silence fell. But once again, it wasn’t for long. 

Gordon was shuffling almost as much as John. He didn’t aim for the sofa though, instead choosing to stretch out on the floor. Virgil tossed him down a pillow which Gordon slipped behind his head and gave him a thumbs up. As he shifted, something gave an audible crack in Gordon’s back but his brother didn’t react other than an annoyed wince. He was slowly getting movement back but it had been a long three weeks since a mudslide had messed up his back worse than it had been in years. 

“This sucks,” Gordon muttered. 

Three noises of agreement met his words but no one quite found the right words. 

“So this is where you’re all hiding?” Alan didn’t take long to find them. He climbed over Gordon and sat down next to him, his back against the couch and resting against Scott’s legs. Virgil wasn’t sure Scott even realised what he was doing as his good hand dropped down and started fiddling with Alan’s hair mindlessly. 

“So-,” Gordon began. 

“Yeah.” 

Virgil wasn’t even sure which brother answered. He didn’t care. He was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He didn’t realise how exhausting restricted movement could be. 

There weren’t many times when all five brothers were in one room and no one was speaking. But it was what they needed right now. Just the soft press of shoulder against shoulder, the lean of body weight as they all nursed their respective injuries and took comfort in the fact the others were there. They all understood; they all hated it; and they all knew they’d get through it. 

Virgil wasn’t the first to fall asleep, but he wasn’t the last, either. 

By the time their dad tracked them down an hour later, he came across a sight he hadn’t seen for a long, long time. All five of his boys were sprawled in various positions to support their injuries, and all of them were asleep. Virgil and John were both using Scott’s shoulders as pillows, while his eldest had his hand resting on Alan’s head, which was leaning against Scott’s knee. Gordon’s legs were bent, resting casually against John’s. 

Jeff smiled. One tinged with sadness at seeing what his dream was costing his children. But one also full of pride. They’d come through this, just like they’d overcome every other obstacle in their path. They’d be stronger for it. 

And the world would be just that little bit safer because of it. 

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch Week 13

Crashing Hard

Word Count: 600+

Tags: fluff, reunion, Hera and Omega are best friends, flying lessons, missing scene one shot

It had been ages since Omega has seen Hera. And after hearing her say she was coming to visit through the Marauder commlink she had practically jumped for joy.

She was so excited to see Hera again, she hadn’t seen her or her family since they had helped them flee and Imperial occupied Ryloth.

She was sitting by the Arctium in upper Pabu waiting to see their ship fly over the horizon. When she heard the familiar sound of booster engines cooling off she watch as their ship flew over head and landed behind her. She sprinted towards the door of their ship as she watched Hera step out with an excited look on her face. She was taller than the last time she had seen her. Granted almost 3 years had passed since they had met. The patterns on her head tails were more pronounced and her skin had lightened significantly. She still wore her head gear but she now had goggles attached to them.

“Hera!” Omega called, Hera stepped off the last step and watch as Omega came running up to her. She opened her arms and Omega bumped into her with the force of the hug. Managing to pick her up and spin her around. She had no idea just how much she had missed Hera until this moment.

Hera laughed gleefully as Omega set her down and she had to steady herself.

“It is so good to see you Omega! It has been too long”

“It has”

The two of them stepped aside as Hera’s mother cleared her throat with a smile and they moved out of the way of the bay door. She looked happy to see Hera and Omega talking together. She knew that the two of them would get a long and it was nice to see Hera with someone her own age for once.

Eleni and Chan walked out of the ship and made their way over to Hunter who had appeared from the walk way up to Upper Pabu. The trio began chatting and proceeded to head off back to lower Pabu where they were going to meet with Shep. The plan was for their family to lay low on Pabu for a while before they could decided what they needed to next. They still needed to get back and save Ryloth, taking back what is there’s from the Imperials.

Whilst the two of them were talking Omega did all that she could to stall for time. She had organised a surprise, she knew Hera had been slowly learning how to fly and she wanted to surprise her with Tech giving her some lessons.

Tech was meant to fly by with the Marauder any minute now and take them up for some test flight. And right on queue she heard the familiar sound of the whistle as the Marauder flew past and landed by Hera’s ship

“C’mon, Tech’s gonna let you fly”

“Really?!”

“Yes, now come on!”

The two of them board the Marauder and Tech relinquishes the pilots chair to Hera who sits down excitedly.  

They begin their flight and Tech gives his instructions dutifully but Hera seems to already have a lot of the routine down as she soars over the open sea.

As she flew Hera recounted a tale of a flying lesson she had with Gobi. They had been flying over the outer dunes of Ryloth and she had let her attempt a landing. It didn’t go to well but the ship was intact and both of them were unharmed. So to this day anytime she “crashed” she refused to state it as such. She didn’t crash, she had very exciting landings

Omega had laughed when she had told this story and their was light air of joy all throughout the ship. Even Tech had offered a small chuckle at the ordeal.

Omega was happy to have Hera back, even if it was for a short while.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Then for the last prompt of sunset can I ask for request a Thorin drabble with him telling young Kili and Fili of when he started loving the reader and the reader just responds “i woke up one morning and realised i loved you.” with Kili and Fili laughing their heads off at that - T

So here goes my final prompt for this challenge!!!

Thank you so much my dear <3

Stars

Words: 1,5 k

You could smell the interrogation a mile away; Kíli was grinning ear to ear and Fíli was kneading his hands in that self-soothing manner he usually got when working up the nerve to be just the slightest bit pompous. Noblesse oblige, and so on; he really was your beloved Thorin’s nephew.

“Uncle,” Kíli piped up – just a tad too early which made it necessary to raise his voice – and wriggled his eyebrows in an imitation, both adorable and terribly accurate, of Thorin’s inquisitive expression that you had to suppress a wild chuckle.

“Uncle,” he repeated as he drew closer, “how did you know that you loved auntie? Fíli says that one has to get a letter delivered by an eagle for love to be real.”

His small, still fairly hairless, lip trembled for a moment as he added that his brother denied ever having had such a letter and that – hence – he did not love his annoying little brother.

“Well,” Thorin leaned back against the high back of his chair and sighed, “I have loved your aunt for quite a long while now and – let me tell you this – it is very important to court ladies for an appropriate amount of time before speaking of any kind of emotions.”

Ah, you thought, Thorin would turn this into a teaching moment. You loved him dearly and that’s why you refrained from rolling your eyes at his own fit of self-importance.

“One day – after a perfectly proper courting period – we sat on a hill and watched the sun sink into the mountains, covering them with liquid gold; your aunt – my beloved – was positively glowing in the soft light.

It was then that I realised that I would look to her for light and warmth; she was the never-setting sun of my days. No matter the burst of all the colours of a fire the sunset painted into the sky, this natural spectacle of glorious defeat could not rival the unbroken radiance of your aunt.

Long did we sit there until the night sky was powdered with diamonds, sprinkled liberally onto the dark velvet backdrop like the treasure trove of some distant giant.

And still, the twinkling of mischief and unadulterated joy in your aunt’s eyes put the very stars to shame; she was not only the light of my days but the solace of my nights.

In this moment, I understood that I would turn to her instead of the sun and that it was her – and her beautiful eyes – that I would consider in making my maps.

Over time – I cannot stress that enough – she had become both my home and the destination of my long and weary travelling.”

It was rare that Thorin waxed lyrical about anything or anyone and you felt deeply flattered by his words; of course, you suspected that he had embellished a few of the details for his nephew’s sake but - in essence – you did not doubt that his words were as true as his heart was.

He had courted you according to the rules and traditions of your people and in a manner befitting his status; the stolen kisses and the wild giggling upon almost being caught in a rather compromising position though seemed to have been – for pedagogical purposes – omitted.

“So, she was beautiful?” Kíli cocked his head dubitatively, pulling at his dark, unruly hair in disgust; it was clear that – despite his best efforts – his uncle was not being very comforting to the young boy.

"Ah, if one has to be beautiful to be loved, then you know that it’s looking very bleak for you indeed…” Fíli teased his brother whose lip wobbled more consistently now.

“No,” Thorin cut in sharply, “I mean yes, she was gorgeous, but she was also kind.”

This last word cut like a knife, and you could see Fíli’s head drop in shame; he knew how much his approval meant to his younger brother, but he was not yet of an age where he’d easily recognise when he was going too far in his jibes.

“Your aunt was gentle, warm, and generous; she was a great companion and a loyal friend. I felt happy whenever I was with her; she made me feel brave and strong…”

Thorin rubbed his broad, callused hand over his forehead; they were his sister-sons and he loved them dearly, but he knew not how to explain things to them that they would not experience nor even begin to understand for decades to come.

Sometimes you suspected that – more protective and jealous than even their own mother – Thorin would have preferred that the days of flighty flirtation would never come around for his darling nephews.

He tried to explain the world to them nonetheless and he deserved all the credit in the world for his honest endeavours to prepare them as well as he could, be it when it came to crafting, fighting, or interacting wisely and fairly with others.

“What about you, auntie? When did you know that you loved uncle Thorin?”

You froze; you had not expected that your perspective would be wanted or needed on this subject.

“I guess, I just woke up one morning,” you started lamely, “Thorin was snoring, and his heavy arm lay draped around me like a rope of warmth. We had fallen asleep while staring at the night sky and – even though a tad sore – I felt safe and warm.”

You smiled at the memory; of course, Thorin’s eyes were exactly like that darkening night sky: endlessly blue, unfathomably deep, and riddled with stars and tiny fires, but you didn’t think that the boys would listen to another soppy exposé about the beauty of an ‘old’ person.

“Just like that?” Kíli’s face betrayed the struggle between disappointment and childish hope being fought within his heart and mind at this very moment.

“Yes, little one,” you said, bending down to breathe a kiss upon his sweet head, “love is very simple. I woke up and knew that – as long as Thorin was right beside me – I’d wake up every day with a smile on my lips, I’d never be afraid of the dark again, and I’d greet every morning full of faith.”

“Kíli snores,” Fíli interjected with a small chuckle.

“And how does that make you feel?” you asked him very earnestly.

“It’s funny,” Fíli admitted, “and it’s annoying when he climbs into my bed and kicks me in the shins while tossing and turning on top of sounding like a bear cub.”

You merely raised one eyebrow patiently.

“He’s always snored,” Fíli went on, gnawing on his lower lip with a crestfallen expression on his face, “and I guess I like it.”

“Do you now?” Kíli’s head snapped up, his eyes starry with hopefulness.

“Of course, you little idiot. It means you are there and you’re breathing…it means you’re fine and I am not alone. You were an ugly thing when Amad brought you home,” Fíli sniggered again, “so I guess I lied about the letter. I do love you and my love for you is much more like auntie’s for uncle than the other way around.”

You gave your husband a triumphant wink.

“I certainly don’t find you all that pretty, Kí, and when I first met you, you were really dull as well. You’re growing on me though,” Fíli grinned, gave you and Thorin a quick, perfunctory hug and then took his brother’s pudgy, little hand into his own.

“Thanks uncle, thanks auntie! We’re off to play…erm…something!” they called and disappeared much too fast for comfort.

“Don’t be late for dinner,” Thorin yelled after them, turning to you and breathing a kiss onto your brow as he mumbled: “Wise. I forgot to tell them how wise you are, my love.”

“I think they know…after all, my advice was better than yours,” you cackled and started running, knowing full well that Thorin would catch you before you made it to the end of the corridor.

The low, playful growl and the thumping of heavy boots onto stone confirmed your suspicion.

When he caught you around the waist, lifting you into the air effortlessly and pressing a passionate kiss onto your trembling lips, you could only smile to yourself.

They were of one ilk, of one family, of one blood indeed…and you had never stood the slightest chance; you were doomed, damned, and destined to love them.

And love them you had and would, never looking back, never asking why…maybe Thorin was right, and you truly were the wisest of them all.

So, in a truly draining effort, I have completed the bingo card!

Thanks again @fellowshipofthefics for this opportunity...and all my love to my darling reader! You mean the world to me <3

[cyhyr]

Whumpmas In July: Closure

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3950

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Wakes & Funerals, Angst, fluff, smut, blow jobs, hand jobs, moving in together

A/N: BUT LIKE THIS IS JUST P0RN WITH *~*FEELINGS*~*

Conclusion, Starting from "Sleep"

Read After “Hope”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Iruka dress. Black on black on black formalwear; he’s dressed similarly. Iruka is fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, watching himself in the mirror that hangs on the closet door. His hair is still loose, slightly damp at the ends from his shower and curling at his shoulders. It’ll straighten as it dries, Kakashi knows.

“Love.”

Iruka drops his hands. He’s been fumbling the same button for a few seconds.

Kakashi stands and crosses the room. He reaches around Iruka, drawing his back to his chest, and finishes the line of the shirt. With gentle coaxing, he turns Iruka around and then pulls him back into a tight hug.

“We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Iruka rests his forehead on Kakashi’s shoulder, his hands light on his waist. “No one else will,” he says quietly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let his spirit float aimlessly?”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He just holds Iruka tighter.

“I need this,” Iruka murmurs. “I need to do this.”

“Alright,” Kakashi kisses his hairline. “Alright.”

~

He stays at the edge of the cemetery, watching Iruka and the priest speak. He’s too far away to hear. He doesn’t care.

The fuck died a traitor to the village, a rapist and an abuser to the end.

All around this cemetery are the ancestors of civilian families who have lived in Konoha and the Land of Fire for decades, centuries. This… he doesn’t deserve to share the same space as them.

But.

Iruka fought for it. He petitioned Tsunade, and spoke to the priests, and arranged for as many of the funeral rites as he could reasonably be allowed. Mizuki’s name won’t go on the Stone, nor was he allowed to be enshrined in the cemetery with other fallen shinobi. And Iruka was… he accepted the terms.

So this morning they picked up Mizuki’s ashes and bones.

And now they’re here, with incense and candles and one lone white chrysanthemum in Iruka’s fingers. When they’d gotten here, the priest had asked if they wanted to wait for anyone else, but Iruka had sadly murmured to just get it over with. No one else was coming. Iruka had sent out notices to their classmates, old coworkers, the woman that Mizuki had after Iruka; no one had responded.

Kakashi had held Iruka through the disappointment last night. Iruka had hoped that the woman, Tsubaki, would at least show. But yesterday was just like today; nothing and no one else.

So he watches. The incense is lit and prayers are said, the bones and ashes are laid before the gravestone, covered with the wooden marker and one of the few photographs Iruka still has of Mizuki, one taken back when they both had finally completed their first year of teaching.

“This one,” he had said, picking it out of the album. He had put his fingertip lovingly over Mizuki’s face and held back tears, continuing, “We. We were happy, then… I think. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt—right.”

Finally the priest finishes the prayers and rites, and the ashes and bones are buried, the marker placed. The priest seems to offer Iruka their condolences one last time, and then leaves. Kakashi holds up a hand to stop them as they approach, and takes out a heavy envelope from his inner jacket pocket. With a slight bow he offers the envelope to the priest, and they accept it silently.

Iruka had told him he could cover the expenses for the service.

Kakashi needs to do this for him, though. It’s all he can do now, really.

Because he’s trying. He’s trying to be objective at least. But this dick abused his lover for years, conditioned him into acting certain ways under stress; and now Iruka takes a small cocktail of medication everyday to keep himself stable. And he can’t forget that, let alone forgive. He won’t.

He’s glad Mizuki’s dead. And also, he’s of the opinion that Mizuki doesn’t deserve the same rites that the dead typically receive. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same dignity that everyone else is—Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.

(Not his father. He. He never did this for Sakumo. He was too young, in too much pain, and the village was all too pleased to see Sakumo gone. He regrets that now, but he can’t… well. The bones and ashes are still in the family shrine. Maybe…)

So instead he pays for the service, and for the cremation, and for the burial, and includes a significant donation to inspire the priests to come by and pray over Mizuki’s grave for the next year or so. Because that’s what Iruka would want. He would want someone to help this poor fuck, even if it couldn’t be himself.

Kakashi wonders if Mizuki knew how lucky he was, to have the devotion of the one person in the entire village—likely the entire world—who knows only how to see the good in people. He wonders if Mizuki knows now how lucky he is, that even though Iruka killed him, even though Mizuki raped him and beat him and brutalized him… Iruka is here, when no one else would step up, praying over his ashes for his soul to find peace.

Because—and it hurts to admit it—Iruka loved him.

Iruka smiles and the sun comes out; Iruka leans on Kakashi and the south winds warm him from the inside out; Iruka kisses him and it’s a revelation. And it’s his capacity to love, and especially to love broken people, that’s given Kakashi the chance to have this. Not his humanity—though that is such a bonus—but this unending fount of love Iruka seems to be made of; that’s his strength.

It’s also his most dire weakness. And Mizuki took advantage of that. He took all the love Iruka gave him and twisted it into something dark and bitter. But instead of running or fighting like any other shinobi should have, Iruka’s response was simply to love Mizuki harder. Maybe they drove each other to the heights of insanity they eventually reached.

Kakashi will never know. And after today he won’t care.

He enters the cemetery to go and stand silently beside Iruka, still praying. Eventually, Iruka picks up his head and leans against Kakashi’s thigh.

“It wasn’t all bad, y’know,” Iruka mutters.

Kakashi doesn’t respond, only carefully places his hand on Iruka’s hair and petting gently.

“After the Kyūbi attack, we roomed together until we graduated from the Academy,” Iruka says. “Sometimes the heat would go out and he would come and huddle with me with all the extra blankets we had.”

He was probably just cold too.

“He stayed up all night with me to practice the clone jutsu before our final test, so we could graduate together.”

He was using your natural ability to teach to learn a last-minute technique.

“He taught Naruto how to roll omelets. That was. That was a nice morning.”

He… hmm.

“He wasn’t always a monster,” Iruka sniffles. “I… He was there, Kakashi.”

“I know, Love.”

“I never wanted this.”

“I know.”

“I thought… For so long, I thought we would be together forever. He was everything. And it was… it was okay. I didn’t know it could be any different.” Iruka looks up at him, tears stuck in his eyes. “He had it easy, didn’t he? I forgave everything he did to me.”

“But he took you for granted.”

“What he did was underestimate my protectiveness,” Iruka sighs. “Both times. It ended our relationship, and then it ended his life.”

They stay in the cemetery for a long time. Kakashi listens to Iruka tell him stories about Mizuki the boyfriend and tries to meld that with his own memories of Mizuki the abuser. When they leave, Iruka drops the chrysanthemum on top of the marker with a finality that screams where the rest of the cemetery is silent.

~

They go home later, and Iruka stops on the sidewalk looking at his house while Kakashi pushes the fence open and starts down the path to the front door. His black jacket is slung over his shoulder, and the sunset warms his skin and casts a reddish-orange glow onto his pale skin. He stops and turns, one foot propped on the second step up to the porch, and smiles back at Iruka.

That Iruka can tell he’s smiling with three-quarters of his face covered and three meters of space between them… Iruka realizes he’s so far gone on this man. He has been for months.

But Kakashi looks so perfect, waiting for him outside the house.

“Coming, Love?”

Iruka flushes, scratches at his scar, and walks up the path. When he’s close enough to Kakashi, he murmurs, “Hopefully later,” and passes on to the door to unlock it and release the wards. He leads the way inside and looks back over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking at his ass hungrily, still standing in the same spot and position he’d been when Iruka had passed him.

He grins. “Coming, Love?”

Kakashi looks up at him and whines, “Don’t tease.”

Iruka laughs. He turns and goes inside, leaving the door open for Kakashi to follow him. He tosses his keys onto the table in the genkan and begins toeing off his shoes.

Kakashi comes and stands behind him, putting his nose right in Iruka’s hair behind his ear. “Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Iruka responds. He twists and kisses Kakashi on the cheek, still masked.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Iruka says. He finishes getting his shoes off and steps out of the genkan. He holds out his hands for Kakashi to take, and grins when he has Kakashi close again, now in the living room. “Though, if you’re on the menu…”

Kakashi takes down his mask, groaning deep in his chest. “I thought you said no Icha Icha lines.” He slips his arms around Iruka’s neck while Iruka’s hands go to Kakashi’s hips.

Iruka leans in slowly. “Are you really complaining?”

“No. No, gods, no. Please kiss me.”

Iruka deliberately kisses Kakashi on the corner of his mouth. And when Kakashi tries to turn into the kiss, he trails kisses away from Kakashi’s lips, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Iruka—!” Kakashi whines.

He walks them back to the couch, licking at Kakashi’s neck the whole while. He sits down and Kakashi falls after him, straddling his lap and cupping his face.

“It’s okay? Can I—?”

“Kakashi, please keep kissing m—”

He does. He dives in and coaxes Iruka’s lips apart so their tongues can glide together. All the while his hips are slowly rocking against Iruka’s; he grabs Kakashi low on his hips and urges him to grind faster.

“You and your—oh, gods—fucking suit,” Kakashi pants into his mouth. “Gorgeous. Godsdamned gorgeous in this.”

Iruka tips his head back and lets Kakashi kiss and lick down his neck. Fingers grapple at his tie and collar, fumble with his shirt. Iruka’s own hands squeeze Kakashi’s ass, full and warm in his palms.

“Want you,” Kakashi murmurs against his throat. “Want. I want to see you come. Can I do that for you tonight? Please, please let me make you come.”

Iruka pushes Kakashi’s head up with two fingers under his chin and kisses him. Kakashi’s hands stop their pursuit of stripping him out of his shirt and instead cup Iruka’s face, still muttering please, please, please, all the while rocking and grinding in Iruka’s lap and—

And—

Oh, how’s he supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” Iruka kisses him. “Um. Okay. Just. I don’t…”

And then Kakashi says, "I want you to fuck me."

And something in Iruka stops.

~

“Want to—hmm—feel you move in me,” Kakashi rambles. He continues unbuttoning Iruka’s shirt, exposing more and more bronze skin. Iruka's chest is broad and muscled and perfect, just like the rest of him, and Kakashi slips off of his lap to settle on his knees between Iruka’s thighs; he leans in and laps at Iruka’s clavicle, down his sternum, drifts aside to catch a nipple in his teeth. Iruka’s soft hum and fingers in his hair tell him he’s doing good so he flicks his tongue against the bud between his teeth. His own eye rolls back to hear Iruka’s cry of pleasure.

Down further, he keeps undoing buttons and parting fabric. He lays kisses all over Iruka’s belly, cups his erection through his pants, and glances up at Iruka before he goes for his belt and trousers.

“Please.”

“What—um—what are you…?” Iruka can’t seem to get the words out, but his chest is heaving with his breath and the flush on his cheeks is staining his flesh all the way down his neck. He’s-he’s beautiful.

“I. I really want to suck you off,” Kakashi says. “And then, if you’re up for round two, I want you inside me.”

Iruka takes his cheek in hand and smiles and says, “We can. We can definitely try that.”

“I love you.”

Iruka kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Love you too. But let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Kakashi can agree with that. He stands up and pulls Iruka along by the hands. He’s giddy and excited—almost as much as when Iruka lets him eat him out, but this excitement has the twinge of newness to it. He’s wanted to get Iruka’s cock in his mouth since the first time they had gone to bed together, and now, finally, he’s getting it.

He’s a bit lightheaded by the prospect, if he’s honest.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Iruka begins unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt, while Kakashi plays with Iruka’s buckle. Iruka moves to the cuff buttons at each wrist, and then returns to Kakashi’s chest to part the fabric and slide his palms over his undershirt and up to his shoulders. He pushes the shirt off and pulls it down his arms, dragging his palms and fingertips along his pale skin and raised scars. The shirt is tossed and Iruka returns to the undershirt, lifting slowly from the bottom and smirking at how Kakashi’s abs jump at his touch.

The undershirt and mask join the shirt on the floor, and Iruka goes for Kakashi’s belt, but is halted by his own belt and trousers being undone. Kakashi let Iruka have his bit of fun; but he’s really got to get that cock in his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs again. He leans in and kisses Iruka’s cheek, down to his jaw and back to his lips; traces his ribs with his fingers and groans at the dips of muscle definition on his abdomen. “You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Iruka’s panting lightly, his eyes closed and his lips shiny with spit—his or Kakashi’s, who’s keeping track anymore? Kakashi swallows the whimpering moan he pulls from Iruka’s throat as he finishes stripping both of them, their clothing a pile of fabric on the floor.

He urges Iruka to lay down on the bed, takes hold of his underwear once he’s prone, and asks again, “Is this alright?”

Iruka’s response is to raise his hips and tip his head to the side. He has a wet, red mark on his neck that may bruise by morning if Kakashi’s not careful.

He slips the last bit of fabric off and throws it aside. Iruka’s cock, hard and reddened, bobs onto his belly and smears precome across his skin. He blushes furiously, and it’s perfect.

Kakashi crawls onto the bed, spreading Iruka’s legs and settling himself between thick muscular thighs. First he kisses the soft, darker skin of his inner thighs, then trails his nose up through the thatch of hair around the base of his cock. He darts out his tongue to taste and relishes the whimper he receives. One hand joins his mouth in worship, gently cradling the thick cock while his tongue licks all around the base.

“K’shi. Love.”

The most subtle of shifts has him positioned above the head of Iruka’s cock. He licks up a bead of precome at the tip, closing his eyes to savor it. Continuing to cradle this precious member in one hand, he begins to press open-mouth kisses all along the shaft. His thumb caresses the tip and spreads the precome that keeps leaking.

Then Kakashi licks a wide stripe up the underside, base to tip, and sucks the head into his mouth—

And Iruka sobs.

Kakashi lifts his head, letting Iruka slip from his mouth but still holding him in one hand, and checks in—”Iruka?”

“Don’t stop,” Iruka whimpers. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Relieved, Kakashi kisses his navel, his hips; strokes his cock with a slow, steady palm; and only when he hears Iruka cry out again—

“Gods among us, Kakashi, please!”

—does he slip his lips back over his head and take Iruka as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not long, but he’s thick and Kakashi’s jaw aches to hold him on his tongue; a slow breath out has Kakashi sliding the very tip of Iruka’s cock down his throat and relishing the fresh, louder cry he receives for the motion. He can hold Iruka in his throat for twenty-four seconds before needing to pull back. He’s not like Iruka, with no gag reflex and a penchant for swallowing long cocks and holding them in his throat. He bobs his head, drooling over the thick shaft and moaning at the taste of more precome in the back of his mouth.

Kakashi had been braced on his elbow, holding Iruka’s hip with a careful grip. But now he shifts, settles his weight more on his knees, places his forearms on Iruka’s spread thighs. He continues holding Iruka’s cock with one hand, stroking where his mouth can’t reach and keeping him from jerking up into Kakashi’s throat. With his newly freed hand, though, he cups Iruka’s balls and presses his thumb just barely against Iruka’s hole.

“Love you, love you, oh-oh-ahh, so g-good, K’shi, fuck.”

That’s it. That’s it, Love.

He lets Iruka thrust into his mouth just the barest amount, knowing unfortunately that he’ll choke if he lets Iruka take what he wants but also. Also, gods, Iruka is panting and moaning and it’s driving Kakashi higher and higher.

“Want. Oh. Kakashi, Love, wanna come with you,” Iruka taps at his shoulder, “Please, please come up here and kiss me.”

He lets Iruka go, swallows the last bitter traces of precome on his tongue, and crawls up Iruka’s body. Iruka takes him by the face and pulls him the rest of the way to his mouth, kissing and nipping at his lips and groaning all the while.

“Why,” Iruka mutters into his mouth,”are you still wearing your underwear?”

“Good question.” Kakashi licks into his mouth and continues kissing him, fingers his nipples, rocks their hips together—

“Off. Get them off,” Iruka whines.

“But then I’d have to stop touching you.”

“You can take three seconds to strip.”

Kakashi sits back and shoves his underwear down his thighs. The cool air on his dick is a shock, but not as much as watching Iruka reach for his own cock and begin to touch himself.

Kakashi stops to watch.

His fingertips glide along the underside, up and down and up and—they stop and Iruka takes himself in a light grip, swirling his thumb against the tip while his other hand drifts to his chest to pinch and tweak at his own nipple.

Iruka licks his lips, moans brokenly, and says, “Are you going to make me do this myself, or are we doing this together?”

He fumbles the rest of the way out of his underwear, saying, “I. Well.” He settles back, kneeling between Iruka’s thighs and watching his hand move and his chest heave. “Gods, Iruka, I could come from this.”

“Watching me?”

“You have no idea. How godsdamn sexy you are right now.”

Iruka’s blush is sweet and gorgeous.

“Want us,” he pants. “Want you.”

Kakashi leans back down and kisses him, deep and lovingly, pressing their bodies together, hips to navel to chest. Iruka’s arms encircle his neck and keep him close, keep them kissing. He reaches between them for Iruka’s cock and takes him in hand again, pumping his hand carefully.

Iruka shakes his head. “Together, Kakashi, please.”

He shivers. “I won’t last,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. Wanna feel you.”

So Kakashi leans up on his elbow, adjusts his hips and pushes his own cock alongside Iruka’s into the circle of his hand and they both sigh and moan and Iruka begs him to move—

“K’shi, please, please, I’m so close, just—little more, please!”

Kakashi ruts, smoothing precome along their cocks with his palm and easing the friction. Iruka’s leaking steadily but Kakashi’s pulsing, damp squirts from his tip with each thrust. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are parted and kiss-bruised.

“You. You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispers.

And Iruka comes. Splashes of come slip over his hand, pooling on his stomach and chest. Kakashi stills his hand to feel the pulse of Iruka’s cock against his own and it’s glorious. His jaw drops in an almost silent cry, interrupted only by soft Ah-ah-ahh as he pants. And when he starts to come down, Iruka moans and gasps, “So good K’shi,” and then.

And then he opens his eyes, just the barest amount, and says, “You too. Come for me, Love.”

Like he could resist. Kakashi’s hand doesn’t even move again, still gently holding them both; he comes on command, adding to the mess on Iruka’s belly as his hips rut against Iruka’s.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches when he comes back to himself. Iruka is holding him against his chest, the mess mostly wiped away by a corner of the blanket. Kakashi nuzzles into Iruka’s neck, breathes him in, and relishes the soft touches to his back and arms.

“Move in with me.”

Kakashi opens his eye and picks up his head. Iruka is staring at the ceiling, like he’s not sure how Kakashi's going to respond.

As if there’s any other response he could give.

“Alright.”

“I just thought, y’know, you’re here all the time anyway, and I miss you when—” Iruka looks down at Kakashi and furrows his brow, saying, “Wait. Alright?”

Kakashi smiles. “Alright.”

“You. You’ll live here. With me.”

“I would love to.”

Iruka frowns, turning his gaze away from him and instead to the wall. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m realizing that,” Kakashi chuckles.

“I expected to have to convince you.”

“Convince me? To live with the love of my life? To live with the man who makes me bad omelettes but perfect pancakes? To live with you, who makes sure my weapons are sharp and designs seals and tags specifically for my use?”

“Kakashi…”

“I’d get to live with the same man who opened up his heart and his home to my sensei’s son, who the rest of the village had turned their back on, and showed him what love is with no desire for reciprocation or payment. You just. Did.”

“Gods, love, stop.”

Kakashi does. Because that word is important and he won’t tarnish it by disrespecting it. But he could go on. And on. And on.

But Iruka smiles and kisses him again and says, “Okay. We’ll get you moved in tomorrow?”

Because it’s getting late.

And he’s home.

[gnarf]

What about a little Scorpius/Harry having a chill at-home date night? 😘

Hi phe 😍 of course I'll write that! This is also my last prompt for the SALS prompts / questionable prompts. Writing those has been a lot of fun, and also at the same time easier and also harder than I had expected. I'll post a master list of the prompts I got soon. Thanks for tagging along on this journey 💜

Harry smelled the roast chicken the second he walked into their home. Scorpius had had the day off while Harry had to go to the Ministry and deal with people. Which was exhausting, even now that the shitstorm of them dating had finally calmed down.

"How was work?" Scorpius' voice came from the kitchen.

"Annoying, exhausting, boring. Pick something." Harry laughed.

"Well, good thing that dinner is almost ready then. I also got a nice bottle of wine and a movie Hermione told us to watch."

Smiling, Harry walked into the kitchen to see Scorp prepping a salad. Walking up to him he hugged him from behind and pressed a soft kiss onto his shoulder. "Sounds lovely. Let me take a shower and then we'll have an entirely weekend just for us."

"Hurry or I'll eat without you," Scorp laughed as he wiggled in Harry's arms to free himself enough so he could turn around for a kiss. "Now hurry. I'm starving."

"Your wish is my command, Sir!" Harry saluted before he ran out of the kitchen laughing like a loon because Scorp had tried to slap him with a tea towel.

He couldn't wait to start his weekend. And what better way to do so than having a nice date night with the person he loved?

[figmentpet]

Prompt #7

LAST DAY OF REST WEEK!

Saturday is all about love & kindness!

Tell us: what is your favorite way to make a person's day? Share here: https://figment.pet/forum/thread/235

[iwt-v]

“People are staring.”

Anne/Ann for @fallingonwinter

-----

Anne gave it just the slightest adjustment and leaned back from her side of the carriage to assess. Miss Walker was, of course, blushing and trying to hide a smile. It was quite charming the way she could get her wife to blush over almost anything.

Ann sucked in her bottom lip and looked at the older woman with bright if not worried eyes.

“Marvelous, absolutely marvelous,” Anne beamed, clasping her hands together.

“Really?” asked Ann. She raised a hand and touched the brim of Anne’s hat with her fingertips. Something about the gesture sent sparks down into Anne’s belly.

From the seat across from them Marian Lister rolled her eyes.

“Oh Lord in Heaven…”

Without looking at her sister Anne flicked her wrists dismissively.

“Come now Marian, surely even you can appreciate how well she wears it.”

Ann sat up a bit straighter and wiggled her shoulders, though her cheeks were still rosy. Anne’s mind was wondering all over the map, imagining what Miss Walker would look like wearing nothing but the top hat.

Marian gave a long-suffering sigh as the carriage rolled to a halt in Halifax.

“I suppose she does look…a bit…it’s nice,” she finished abruptly, giving Ann an awkward smile.

Ann giggled, taking no offense whatsoever. Instead she shot Anne a rather heated look.

“Well we’re here now,” said Marian as she allowed the groom to help her out of the carriage. “So you might as well take it off.”

Ann raised her hand to do just that when Anne stopped her. She gave her sister a frown.

“I hope you will leave it on…for me,” Anne added in a low whisper. Her dark eyes bore into her wife’s.

*

Minutes later the three of them started down the street, with Marian lagging behind.

“Really, honestly,” she grubbed under her breath.

Anne’s smiled broadened as she walked in close consort with Ann, who was donning a pretty lavender blue dress with her usual ringlets, poking out from under Anne’s black top hat.

Anne was surprised that Ann had kept the headpiece on, but certainly overjoyed as well. As they entered the hustle and bustle of the city Anne was keenly aware of the eyes that watched them and followed them. She fretted Ann would snatch the hat off any second but she did not.

From behind them, like an annoying little devil-child perched on her shoulder, came Marian’s voice, “People are staring.”

“Let them stare a moment longer,” said Ann smoothly.

Anne blinked. The spark re-established itself in her lower belly.

*

Later that night and in the safety of their bedroom, Anne made known her earlier fantasies to her wife.

“…Of course it’s just a silly idea I had,” she finished with a little shrug.

Ann was looking at her most intensely, small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yes, of course. Silly. I’m going to undress for the evening.”

She slipped out and into what was officially deemed her own (rarely used) boudoir at Shibden Hall to change.

Anne did the same and climbed in bed, intending to do some writing by the candlelight. Her plans were severely derailed, however, when Ann returned. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she shed her nightgown and stood nude before Anne, clad in only the top hat. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders almost wildly and brushing over her tight nipples.

Anne swallowed and coughed, sitting upright. Her eyes swept the expanse of her wife’s nubile body.

“Good Lord,” she finally managed.

“I’m sorry…is it too much?”

Ann’s confidence wavered at her wife’s reaction, but before it could fail her Anne was off the bed and in front of her.

“No, no! Don’t. Touch. Anything.”

Blushing again at her cheeks as Anne’s eyes drank her up greedily. She moved in for a kiss and found Ann just as greedy. Anne took her to bed, mind racing giddily as she began enjoying her wife’s new look.

Thought I, I have bit off more than I can chew with this girl. But that is far from a complaint. My heart soars and I am as happy as I’ve ever imagined.