Ash had a horrible day at work. A mission went wrong, leading many of his soldiers getting injured or killed. He came back home stressed and annoyed.

He had to take his emotions out.

Of course, he warned you before taking off your clothes. He told you he had a shitty day, that he may be a little rough. He didn't even trust himself.

You accepted.

And he didn't lie. He got rough, like very rough. He was gripping your thighs to make you stay still, scratching your skin, shifting your position quickly to satisfy his needs. He didn't cross any limit, you knew he was only doing this because of stress and annoyance. But still, it was hard, and sometimes barely bearable.

He left to take a shower right after, not even one cuddle, leaving you alone in bed, dressed in your panties and bra, your legs shaking. Because yeah, by the way, one round wasn't enough. You fell asleep quickly, lying on your side, facing away from Ash's side, the blanket barely covering yourself as you were still feeling hot.

A few minutes later, Ash came back in the living room, dressed in his sweatpants, shirtless. And his heart ached as he saw you. You were worn out, silently sleeping, your hair messy, your body full of red marks, scratches, love marks and hickeys. He knew he had been too rough this time, and it made him feel guilty.