#Non-Sexual Intimacy

[crabsnpersimmons]

inspired by my friends and their gacha adventures

bonus end, because the road of gacha gaming is riddled with the salt:

some process sketches and lines under the cut if anyone's interested

the first little doodle that started everything:

i was originally just going to make this one drawing, with a short little dialogue thing, but i decided to draw it all out into a little comic:

fun fact: you can tell how anxious i am about drawing something traditionally by how many process photos i take. cuz if the worse comes to worst, i can always finish or fix it digitally IF my motivation battery hasn't completely drained, which... it usually is 😅

but i'm very happy with how this turned out! need to draw more silly ideas

[alyssalenko]

Breaking Free

Written for the @loveinfaerunexchange. Astarion gets the hug and intimacy he deserves after defeating Cazador… (I wish we'd had the option to hold him when he was crying after killing Cazador so I wrote it myself.) AO3

Astarion sinks to his knees, a pathetic sob escaping his lips as the dagger clatters to the floor, you feel your heart breaking before dropping beside him and enveloping him in your arms, his body sagging in your embrace. He clings to you, sobbing into your shoulder as you rub your hands comfortingly up and down his back and arms. It takes a few moments for him to pull himself together enough to deal with his siblings and the spawn in the cells, but he doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, your touch his lifeline, his rock. When you make your way back to the Elfsong, instead of heading for your suites with the rest of your party, you guide him to the baths to wash the dirt and blood and ritual off of him. He doesn’t fight you as you divest him of his pants and underwear, having pushed himself far beyond his own limits, but you want to make sure he knows that he isn’t alone and that you aren’t going anywhere. You hold out your hand, Astarion taking it to steady himself and letting you guide him to the tub, your grip sure and secure as he steps into the water, and sits down slowly, red eyes fluttering closed as you ease into the tub behind him, drawing a small, contented sigh from his lips.

“I’m so proud of you.” You whisper as you run your hands through his white hair, fingertips massaging his scalp.

Astarion leans back against you, his head on your shoulder fingers finding yours beneath the water and lacing them together as you press a kiss to his cheek. Neither of you speak but you don’t need to. Your vampyr is quiet, almost contemplative, still trying to wrap his head around everything that happened and process that Cazador is dead—no more looking over his shoulder; he’s finally free and that’s going to take some getting used to. Luckily, you plan to be by his side every step of the way as he figures out what to do with his newfound freedom. He burrows deeper into your embrace, lifting your linked hands out of the water and staring at them, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. You nudge him with your shoulder and give his hand a gentle squeeze as he gazes at the darkness that has settled outside the small window above the tub.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?”

“You did the right thing, stopping the Black Mass.”

“I know.” He huffs. “That doesn’t mean it stings any less. Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.”

You can feel your heart breaking at the despondent tone of his voice; getting tadpoled, while not ideal, had given him so much—autonomy over himself, the ability to stand in the sun, friends, and love, and he wasn’t ready for all that to disappear. If you have your way, it won’t—you’ll find a way for him to bask in the sun when this is all over and The Absolute is defeated; between Sorcerous Sundries and Gale, you have a wealth of knowledge at your fingertips whenever you need it. You fumble for the soap with the hand he doesn’t have clutched to his heart, and run it gently down his torso and his arms building up a sudsy lather. When you finish you ease him back into the water to help him rinse off before the two of you clamber out of the tub together. You wrap him in a fluffy towel, using the fabric to pull him closer so you can kiss the tip of his nose.

“I’ll be with you either way. I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” Astarion looks you directly in the eyes as he catches your hands in his, tone shifting to teasing as you gently dry the water droplets clinging to his skin. “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You laugh and he shoots you a small smile, fingers curling around yours as he leads you over to the pile of your clothes, a flicker of vulnerability running across his beautiful face. “There’s…something I’d like to show you, if that’s all right? Something out in the city.”

“Of course.” You nod as you grab your shirt off the pile and pull it over your head, the two of you donning your clothes in companionable silence.

“It isn’t far.”

Astarion grips your hand as soon as you’re both dressed and leads you from the baths, away from the Elfsong and he doesn’t let go as you wind through the darkened streets of Baldur’s Gate to a desolate and out of the way cemetery. The graveyard is appropriately silent—there isn’t a proverbial soul around as he stops in front of a lone headstone covered in ivy that clearly hasn’t been maintained, staring at it for a moment, before he releases your hand and carefully moves the vines. He wipes his hands on his pants and takes a step back so you can read the simple epitaph carved in the stone:

Astarion Ancunín 229 NR—268 NR

And suddenly you realize the importance of this moment, glad he’s finally lowered his walls and is letting you all the way in, trusting you with this piece of himself. His trust isn’t misplaced; you two have been through so much together, and the love you feel for him will never go away—you’ll be by his side as long as he’ll have you and you plan to show him he can rely on you every single day.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today.”

You step closer and gently cup his chin in your hand, his piercing red eyes gazing into yours. “You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force.”

“Maybe, but he did take it. There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.” He shoots you a small, tentative smile and it makes your heart soar, but you want to hear him say it—to use his newfound autonomy and voice what he wants, having never had anyone to hear it before or have it matter.

“And what do you want?”

“You…I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

Astarion heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Well, I should probably fix this.”

You watch him as he pulls out a dagger and kneels in front of the tombstone, digging the tip into the worn rock and carving out a number—a new date you realize with a burst of affection. He sits back on his heels, his eyes flicking from the headstone to you and you find yourself gazing at the edited writing; a promise of a new life—a new beginning.

Astarion Ancunín 229 NR—268 NR *468 NR—

You hold back for a moment, giving him time as you cast your eyes around and lean over to pick a nearby white flower from the ground, laying it beneath the epitaph on the soil of what was once his grave. Astarion cocks an eyebrow at you, a small smile on his face, as you kneel beside him.

“Cute. I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough, It’s time to try living again.” He turns towards you and takes both of your hands in his, a wistful smile on his face. “With everything that life has to offer.”

“Meaning…?”

“If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” He gives you that lopsided smirk you’ve come to expect when he flirts with you as he rubs his thumbs across the back of your hands.

You give his hands a squeeze. “Sounds good to me.”

He drops your hands and rubs his palms nervously on his pants, a shaky breath rattling past his lips. “You know, I didn’t care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance. I love you. I love this. And I want it all.”

You smile at each other, Astarion reaching out and cupping your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He leans forward and presses his mouth against yours in a sweet kiss. He pulls back and cocks his head to one side bracing his hands against your shoulders and giving you a gentle shove. You fall back into the grass, his gaze sweeping over you and you can't miss the hitch of his breath as he takes you in, the look on his face like he wants to devour you and you bite your lip. A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as he crawls towards you, his leg hooking yours to drape it over his hip and the stretch of your muscles at the action makes you gasp. He nestles himself between your thighs and rocks his hips, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, his mouth opening against yours, tongues colliding as his hands tangle in your hair. He sighs contentedly as you wrap your arms around him, pressing every inch of your body to his.

And you know that this is how you want to spend eternity…

[sflow-er]

Let's celebrate non-sexual intimacy in YR!

Inspired by @bluedalahorse's tags on this post by @starvalisedham, I thought it would be fun to celebrate our favourite moments of non-sexual intimacy in the show. Platonic, familial, romantic but not sexual - please share your faves in text, image, or GIF form!

Here are some of mine!

- Of course I must start with this touching (pun intended) moment between Sara and Felice. It's the first of so many beautiful, intimate friend scenes between them and I love it so much!

- The girl group in general and Stella and Fredrika in particular are shown being very tactile with each other all through the show. This shot of Stedrika at movie night is just adorable and made all the sweeter by the absence of romantic hints at this point of the story.

- Speaking of adorable, this sibling hug between Simon and Sara (and the teasing that precedes it) is a huge favourite of mine! I wish my brother and I had retained this level of physical and emotional comfort with each other past childhood.

- Another fave is the shot of Nils and Vincent comforting August. It's not often we see such vulnerability and intimacy depicted between guys their age - especially guys who have embodied very harmful sides of masculinity at various points of the story. It gives me hope for their future growth!

GIFfed from video posted by @misaothewitch

- And because this wouldn't be a post by me without a Henry reference... I do love how comfortable he and Walter seem to be getting in each other's personal space. Whether you choose to read it as romantic or platonic, the meadow scene is a really good example of them living their own lives and having their own little moments of affectionate interaction in the background of the big drama!

GIFfed from video posted by @misaothewitch

What are some of your favourites? They can be between Wilmon too! I just ruled them out because I wanted to highlight the other characters first.

[exhaustedpirate]

someone to take care of you

my offering for day 1 of @bucktommyfluffebruary decided to make tommy even more exhausted than he was on the hospital scene so that buck has to manhandle his boyfriend ¯_(ツ)_/¯ basically tommy was fighting a wildfire for three days and buck takes care of him when he gets back!

rated T | 2918 words also on AO3

Tommy hasn’t had a proper rest for the past 72 hours.

He is aching, burning, he is in agony. His bones ache under his skin, his muscles burn from exhaustion and his body is begging him for rest.

He doesn’t remember getting home until he is standing in his driveway, an engine full of equally tired firefighters carefully driving down the street. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with smoke-free air and forces himself to leave behind the hell he just escaped.

Tommy passes by an unusual Jeep parked in his driveway while he drags his feet towards his front door, his brain struggling to give him the answers he needs. It’s only when the door opens before he can muster the strength to take the keys from his pocket that it hits him.

Evan.

Whose brow is furrowed with worry and whose mouth is a mix of contentment and concern. He is wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and gym shorts, both in a rumpled state. He smells of sweat and cleaning products and it takes him another second - Evan has a key.

Of course he does, they exchanged keys the week before. Tommy had told him that he would be on call in the midst of wildfire season and the way Evan’s face had been the definition of worry had tugged at something in his heart. It was easy to pluck the spare key from the drawer and pass it to Evan, it was easier still to add his spare key to his keychain. 

It’s both a blessing and a curse to see his boyfriend of two months. 

As Tommy wraps his arms around Evan and buries his face on his neck feeling the way the other man’s arms wrap around him just as tightly, he finds himself elated to not have to ask for this, to have his presence so conveniently within reach. But as he clings and melts in the warmth, Tommy feels his exhaustion settle deeper in his bones, chastises himself for being tired, for not taking advantage of every moment spent with Evan, of not being present.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Evan whispers in his ear, worry giving way to relief, his fingers digging into the sweaty strands of Tommy’s hair. “I saw the news and as soon as I was off I came here,” There is apprehension in his voice as if concerned he might be too much but Tommy just grabs him tighter. “I cleaned your whole house.”

Tommy lets out a tired laugh against the skin of his neck before kissing it, feeling the way Evan shivers under it. He understands the concern, the worry, the desperation. There were many times he wanted to drive towards the 118 after hearing some of their crazier rescues on TV or over dispatch but stopped himself - focused on work, tinkered around a car or punched his worries away. Something warm settles in his chest when he realises he gave Evan the confidence to seek him out, to ask for more.

“I’m very happy that you’re here,” Evan’s body relaxes at his confession and he buries his face on his neck, uncaring for the smell of smoke and sweat. “But I don’t know if I’ll be the best company today.”

Evan breaks the hug and smiles at the soft whine of protest that leaves him unbidden. His hands cup Tommy’s cheeks and he closes his eyes at the way Evan’s thumbs caress the bags under his eyes. 

“I’m off for the next 36 hours,” Evan explains and Tommy opens his eyes, giving his boyfriend all his remaining attention. “I’d like to take care of you.” His tone is shy and it clenches something in Tommy’s chest. 

He’s not used to being taken care of. 

“Evan-”

“You took care of me before,” The other man interrupts his half-hearted protest, finger over his lips. “I want to take care of you too.”

How can he say no to that?

His eyes are wide, unsure whether to believe Evan’s words, the determination in his eyes, the strength in his tone. But he nods, his exhaustion letting that part of him that craves, that yearns, take over his decision. Evan’s smile is blinding and it soothes an ache inside him.

His boyfriend takes his hands and pulls him inside his house, the smell of cleaning supplies and air freshener in every square inch. Evan’s presence is noticeable all around, his boots now sit neatly next to the other man’s shoes, there’s a book he doesn’t recognise on his coffee table and a coat on the back of a kitchen chair. Evan is taking space in his home.

Tommy wishes he would take it all.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say what his sleep-addled mind fantasizes and simply lets Evan guide him towards the second floor and into the bathroom. His eyes blink into awareness as he’s sat on the closed toilet lid, and he looks up at the other man realising that he’d asked him a question.

“Wh-What did you say?”

Evan’s patient smile only makes him feel worse. How can he have such a wonderful man in his house without paying him every drop of attention?

Hands on his cheeks interrupt his chastising thoughts. Evan kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and finally a chaste kiss to his lips. Something inside him purrs at the care, at the affection and he feels that little bubble of shame pop into nothingness. 

“I asked if you wanted help taking off your clothes so you can take a shower.”

He blinks his eyes a few times before he slowly pulls off his coat, slow movements like moving through sand and when it’s off, there is a small pinch to the other man’s brow. Tommy takes a breath before pulling up his t-shirt. It goes over his head and he notices that Evan is closer than before. Oh, he helped him.

Evan watches him a second before he nods resolutely. “I’m showering with you.” He declares, pulling off his (Tommy’s) shirt.

“Evan, no,” Tommy protests even as his eyes roam the naked expanse of his boyfriend’s chest. “I’m capable of showering by myself.”

“Tommy,” The other man’s tone is patient but he raises an unimpressed eyebrow as he places his hands on his hips. “I feel like you’re going to fall in the shower if I leave you alone in there and I really don’t want anyone from the LAFD to see your dick except me.”

Tommy lets out a surprised guffaw and Evan’s lips twitch as he tries to keep the chastising expression on his face. He looks up at his boyfriend with a soft smile. “You really don’t have to, babe.”

“I want to,” Evan’s face softens and he helps Tommy to his feet. “Besides, I smell like bleach and sweat, not exactly a sexy combination.”

“I don’t know,” Tommy sways closer to his boyfriend, maybe on purpose, maybe accidentally. “You always smell great to me.”

Evan laughs as their noses bump into each other, a betraying blush covering his cheeks. “You look like you’re five seconds away from falling asleep, Tom, you have no purpose being so charming.”

Tommy laughs with Evan, nodding in reluctant agreement. There’s a press of lips against his before his boyfriend begins unbuttoning his trousers, letting them fall to his feet before pulling down his boxer briefs. With a stabilizing hand on the sink, Tommy steps out of the fabric pooled at his ankles with Evan’s help. While crouched, the other man also takes off his socks and, even naked, Tommy still feels the weight of the past few days.

Evan stands and holds his hands to help him into the shower base. He feels a little annoyed at needing so much help, at feeling so useless and weak but then he looks at Evan’s face, the soft look in his eyes, that beautiful smile and he forces that part down, pushes it away.

It’s okay to ask for help, his therapist once told him. It’s okay to let others take care of you.

His boyfriend discards his clothes quickly so he can join him. Evan turns on the water and carefully maneuvers Tommy under the spray once it's hot enough. It feels so good that Tommy lets out a contented moan. His bones melt under the warmth and he feels Evan’s chuckle like a cold drink in a hot summer or whatever other ridiculous thoughts come to mind when his boyfriend laughs.

“That feel good?”

Tommy hums as Evan joins him under the spray, their bodies close together and he has never been so happy that he upgraded to the wide shower head when he redid the bathroom. Evan had also been very pleased to see the size of his shower the first time he came over, they have found many satisfying ways to make use of the space.

It feels different now, to be so close, so naked and wet and to feel so cared for, without any expectations. All he needs to do is stand there as Evan grabs his shampoo and massages his scalp. It draws another moan from his lips and he takes hold of the other man’s hips with how much he sways in place.

Tommy lets himself be moved, lets Evan run through every inch of his skin with a loofah, lets the scent of his citrusy shower gel fill his nose. He lets himself enjoy the closeness of Evan’s body, his careful touches, his soft words, their chaste kisses. Everything is soft, warm, relaxing and he would really like to have this all the time.

The water shuts off and Tommy blinks his eyes open to look at Evan’s smile. Such a good smile. His boyfriend blushes and he realises he must have said it out loud. But Evan presses their lips together to stop any excuses or apologies to come out of Tommy’s mouth. Probably for the best.

“Don’t worry, babe, nothing you say while you’re this sleep-deprived will be admissible in a court of law.” Evan giggles and Tommy bites the inside of his lip to stop himself from gushing over it.

Evan helps him out of the shower and begins to towel-dry him. There’s still that niggling voice yelling at him for his ineptitude but then his boyfriend will smile up at him and that voice gets quieter and quieter.

It’s okay to let others take care of you.

Tommy has a towel wrapped around his waist and lets Evan guide him to his bedroom and groans as he sits on the bed, his body no longer used to the softness of the seat. He is flagging and Evan must know it because in no time, Tommy is wearing soft and clean clothes and he flutters his eyes awake to see Evan already wearing one of his hoodies and sweats. God, he looks good.

Tommy groans inwardly when Evan blushes again. “I have no control over this.” He mutters as an apology.

Evan smiles softly and runs his fingers down the side of Tommy’s face, he hums in pleasure at the touch. “I’m not complaining.” 

“I promise I’ll compliment you so much more when I can actually think again.”

Evan laughs and that warm feeling nestles in his chest. “I’ll remind you of that promise when you can actually think again,” Tommy nods and sighs at the soft kiss planted on his forehead. “Think you can stay awake long enough to eat one of the bacon muffins I made?”

“You made muffins?” Tommy mumbles and his stomach grumbles at the thought of food.

“I got an alert about the wind shifting directions and scrubbing the kitchen grout wasn’t getting the job done anymore,” Evan pulls him up to his feet and kisses the concerned wrinkles of his frown. “I made bacon, chocolate and rhubarb muffins,” He scratches at the back of his neck looking away with a blush. “Your freezer is a little full now.”

Tommy grins, incredibly fond of the man in front of him. He pulls his face up to by the chin to land a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. Evan sighs into the kiss and his shoulders relax. “I can’t wait to try them all, babe.”

Evan grins and lands a smacking kiss on Tommy’s lips that makes him laugh. “Come on, then!”

He’s seated at the kitchen table before he knows what’s going on. There was definitely a lot of stress-cleaning going on, his oven looks like it just came out of the store. But, despite the satisfaction of a clean house, all he sees is the stress he put Evan through. 

He thinks of oil stains in his hands. Of muscles aching from overwork. Of the beaten up state of his punching bags. Wonders if Evan would see the same.

The microwave beeps and then there’s the smell of a warm muffin in front of him, bacon wafting up to his nose. His mouth waters and the first bite is divine and he lets out a moan to show it. Tommy is only able to see Evan’s proud grin when he’s finished, licking his fingers to get the last of the taste.

“Good?” Evan asks, approaching him and running his fingers through his damp hair. 

Tommy wraps his arms around Evan’s waist, resting his chin on his belly and closing his eyes at the caress. “So good.”

Evan bends down to kiss his forehead, fingernails scraping pleasantly on his scalp and he hums sleepily. “I think I should get you into bed before you pass out.”

“That’s very forward of you, Evan Buckley,” Tommy mumbles, eyebrow raised even with his eyes shut. “I’m not that easy.”

Evan giggles and Tommy feels a small smile on his lips. “Alright, Thomas Kinard, I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Good,” Tommy forces his eyes open when Evan urges him to stand and accepts the soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “My boyfriend would kick your ass.”

Evan grins and pulls him towards the stairs again. “He would?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy returns the grin, clinging to the last remaining energy the muffin gave him. “He’s got big muscles and these long ass legs, the whole package.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Evan is blushing even as he keeps the smirk on his face. “I think I could take him, you’re worth fighting for.” 

Tommy’s breath hitches at the honesty in his voice.

His boyfriend’s blush goes down his neck and he’s fairly sure it’s spread to his chest, he clears his throat. “You should brush your teeth before bed.”

Tommy goes in a haze, automatically brushing his teeth as his mind rushes through the idea that Evan would fight for him, that he was worth fighting for, worth keeping. Uh.

He walks into the bedroom to find Evan sitting at the foot of the bed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t expecting it either, maybe he regretted it.

“Evan-”

“I mean it,” Evan blurts out and Tommy quiets. “I did but we don’t need to talk about it tonight,” He stands from the bed to take his hands and pulls him towards the bed. “You need sleep and so do I.”

Maybe it wasn’t the time for a talk, Tommy was sure that he shouldn’t be trusted with words at the moment. But he didn’t want it to go unnoticed. He presses his lips to Evan’s in a soft kiss.

“Thank you,” He whispers. “Not just for your words but for taking care of me.”

“You don’t have to-” 

Tommy kisses him again, this time with more fervor, interrupting him. “Thank you.”

Evan nods and directs them to bed. The sheets are cold but they smell clean and fruity and his boyfriend is warm. Tommy sighs when they stop shuffling around in bed, his head resting on Evan’s chest and arm wrapped around his torso. Evan’s fingers run along his hair and he feels all the tension, the exhaustion, the anxiety, the unworthiness fall away from him. Evan’s touch is a balm to every ache, every wound and every hurt.

He falls asleep warm, content, happy. 

The sun is shining bright when he opens his eyes. A sigh escapes him at the satisfaction of a good night’s sleep and at the fingers casually creating shapes on his clothed back. 

Tommy looks up from the torso he used as a pillow the whole night to see Evan already awake, scrolling through his phone with a focused frown. His hair is messy from sleep, growing curls falling every which way. He’s been awake for a while, his eyes don’t hold that just-woke-up look they do when they wake up together. 

Evan’s been awake for a while but hasn’t moved because Tommy was sleeping on him. A warm feeling that feels a lot like showering together, like home baked muffins, like “you’re worth fighting for”, floods his chest.

Fuck…

Tommy might just be on his way to falling in love with Evan Buckley.

And, as if his emotional turmoil was loud enough for his boyfriend to notice, Evan looks down at him. His smile is bright and his eyes are focused on him. Tommy is having a little difficulty breathing but forces a deep breath when the other man’s hand moves up to his hair.

“Slept well?”

Tommy is definitely going to fall in love with Evan Buckley.

He smiles. “Wonderfully.”

Maybe it’s not so bad.

[big-urchin-energy]

Deep Pressure

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary prompt: non-sexual intimacy

read on ao3

“Hey, baby,” Evan said softly, like he was being careful not to make too much noise in case he was asleep, but Tommy could still hear the smile in his voice. “Hey,” Tommy replied, his voice rough from exhaustion. He heard Evan move around the room, and figured he was getting changed, but instead he felt a sudden weight right across his back, like Evan had flopped onto the bed just like he had, with his whole torso heavy on top of him. He expected himself to tense, to freak out, to flail and tell Evan to get the hell off him, but the fight never came. It was like all the tension, all the restless, uncomfortable energy, just melted out of him.

[nephilimeq]

There In Your Arms - Fluffebruary

Prompt: Non-Sexual Intimacy

@bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62721625

Buck curled around his boyfriend, lying on top of him, nuzzling his way under his jaw, smiling when he heard Tommy let out a low hum that vibrated through his chest and into his. This was one of his favorite things to do, and none of his ex-girlfriends had ever understood it.

They were both completely naked on top of the covers and were simply gliding their hands over each other and had been doing that for the past hour.

He remembered when he had first explained it to Tommy a couple of weeks after they had started having sex, and had been fully prepared for him to kind of laugh and shake his head and say something along the lines of, “You’re weird,” but he hadn’t. Instead, he had given him a soft look and had told him that he loved the idea, and now they spent at least a couple nights a week simply laying on their bed naked and feeling each other’s skin.

“Mmm, this is nice,” the older man said, his fingers still tracing circles over Buck’s side, and he smiled into his neck and replied, “Yeah…thanks again for doing this for me.”

Tommy chuckled.

“You say that like it’s a burden, Evan…this isn’t a burden or a weird quirk, it’s something that we both enjoy that helps us feel connected. Why wouldn’t I love it?” he said, pulling back slightly to give him a look and Buck felt his heart clench at the sight.

God, he loved him.

“God, I love you,” he said, not bothering to filter his thoughts and was thrilled when Tommy smiled down at him in that way that made his crow’s feet bunch up while his nose did that adorable scrunch that he loved as he said, “I love you, too, babe,” and then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his upturned lips.

He leaned into it as best he could…but then drew back when he felt the heat rising, not wanting to ruin their soft moment, and his boyfriend immediately picked up on it and rubbed his other hand down his back and said, “I can’t believe no one ever wanted to do this with you before,” and Buck adjusted his position slightly from where he was lying on top of him and shrugged and replied, “All the girls I dated would notice that I would start to get hard after a while and thought I was lying to them, but no matter how much I tried to explain that sometimes a guys penis just does that, they didn’t believe me and either would have sex with me to shut me up or would get up and leave…”

Tommy tensed underneath him, taking in a sharp breath, his hands stilling on his skin—and then he let it out and said as he resumed touching him, “Well, they were all idiots.”

Buck grunted.

“No argument there.”

Tommy snorted and chuckled, moving his hands up the younger fireman’s spine to his neck, slipping his fingers into his curls, lightly scratching his scalp and he let out a low groan and melted further into the burly man underneath him, muttering into his chest, “Oh, god, that’s nice,” to which his boyfriend replied, “Yeah, thought you’d like that,” and then moved one hand back down his spine, keeping the other one in his hair.

They laid like that for a bit longer, soaking in the other’s scent and skin…

…and then Tommy said, “I’ve been thinking about installing a hot tub out back.”

Buck paused his own hand—which had been mapping the scar on his boyfriend’s ribs that he loved—and looked up at him as best he could from his position on his chest and said, “Wait…what?” and Tommy gave him a look and explained, “Well, I was thinking about how much we enjoy doing this, and how nice it would be to do it in the bathtub, but it’s not big enough—and then I realized that there’s a hookup out back for a hot tub and that would be big enough and so…yeah. Hot tub. You and me. Naked and happy.”

Buck slowly smiled and cautiously asked, “But…won’t your neighbors see us if we’re naked?” and Tommy shook his head.

“Nope. Previous owners of the house put the setup in a blind spot. Nice view of the backyard, great view of the sky…but out of view of prying eyes.”

“Sounds to me that they had the same idea that we have,” he said with a sly grin, moving his hand up to his Tommy’s firm chest, propping his chin on it and batting his lashes at him. “So we can turn this from naked bed time to…naked hot tub time?”

Tommy smirked.

“Yes, we can.”

They shared a long smile…and then they leaned in at the same time and softly kissed, enjoying the moment that lingered in the air between them. The lights were off, but Buck knew that his boyfriend’s eyes were shining. They then settled back into their places, once more tracing their fingers and palms across the others’ body—a hand curving around a hip, fingertips dotting points down his spine, a heel digging into a calf, a thumb smoothing over an eyebrow.

Time stretched, the silence warm, and Buck found himself drifting in that place between wake and sleep where he had always felt the most vulnerable, but instead felt completely safe wrapped up in the arms of the man underneath him, cradling him in an embrace that made him feel everything was going to be okay.

…and then Tommy’s voice came out of the dark, saying, “God, I’m hungry,” and right on cue his stomach grumbled.

Buck snorted, unable to contain it—and then the two of them were giggling like teenagers and he said, “Want me to cook you something?” and Tommy nodded.

“Yes, please.”

He pressed a kiss to his nose in the dark and then reluctantly pulled himself off of him and went and grabbed the sweatpants he had discarded on the floor over an hour before and hiked them up over his hips, saying, “You owe me twenty more minutes of cuddle time.”

The airman sat up and gave him a mock salute.

“Deal.”

Buck smiled as he headed downstairs. He had the best boyfriend ever.

[dtblrficsupport]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57791659

just really soft dnfies working on fusion together <3

Like A Movie (You Saw In Your Youth) , by @dnfity

“Dream,” George continues, “did you not hear me? I said that’s enough work for today.” When George doesn’t get an answer after a few seconds, he tries calling his name again: “Dream?” And again, more forcefully: “Dream.” And then he says the one thing he knows always gets Dream’s attention: “Fine, I’m getting naked.”

Or, Dream gets stressed while working on the project. George puts on a little show.

Leaving positive feedback for any author will make their entire week!!

Hits at the time of queuing: 950

[girlsgoneplague]

Spock headcannons, don't judge me i just think he's neat

He will NEVER ask you to neglect your duties but he will often apologize for putting you in harms way, even if its not his fault

Anytime you want to watch a movie he indulges you because he can get work done while you're leaning against him (but it is hard to watch dramas they infuriate him)

If you're an Ensign your relationship is quite secret but to be honest only people close to him will notice anything is different

Once you become a lieutenant he takes you out to dinner in the mess hall, and MANY people realize you're together but its still just a rumor since no one can read his facial expressions

You don't often get in harms way, but he almost broke a PADD whenever he found out your ankle got broken while running away, he doesn't recall any other details of rhe mission only that you were nearly left behind

Theres no kissing him in public, you respect his privacy and he has never had the urge to kiss you in front of anyone because he knows that what you share is for each other to enjoy.

There have been quite a few times (after a close call) where he did hold his hand out for a vulcan kiss, and somehow it makes you blush more than when he asks you in private to kiss like humans

There have been only a few times where Kirk has attempted to tease you both, but when you got hurt and spock nearly broke multiple pieces of equipment he realized that he wouldn't get a rise out of either of you unless he did something crazy

Kirk regularly gives him advice about dates because they're in fact the bestest of friends

His dates mostly consist of legitimate quality time, playing games together, eating dinner and discussing your day, or even just reviewing particularly interesting mission logs you've went on without each other

Bones had to physically restrain Spock more than once from leaving the med bay (so he could see you) and you're the only one that can convince him to take Bones adivice

Before you dated Kirk and Bones bet on every aspect of your relationship and once Spock found out he waited 2 weeks to tell them you were together

Spock never thinks about retiring but anytime you're allowed shore leave he imagines life with you to be enough. after he's gotten too old to be with starfleet of course

And if anyone is wondering, no he will never do public sex, this is Spock and in my opinion he only does it every once in awhile because he doesn't find it as satisfying as spending time with you and making conversation.

Side note even though this is x reader Spock is for sure in love with Kirk thats just a fact

I also couldn't decide which version to use so here's both!

[graciereadshannigram]

Kinktober Day 18: Massage

me?? grace?? writing something that is not rated E for Explicit???

i just really wanted to explore some non sexual intimacy between them and gah, love how it turned out.

After surviving their fall, Hannibal and Will have retreated into a secluded life, far from the violence that once defined them. As they heal, both physically and emotionally, they find themselves navigating a new kind of intimacy—one marked not by bloodshed, but by quiet tenderness. When Hannibal’s lingering pain from their shared ordeal becomes too much to ignore, Will offers something unexpected: a simple, caring touch. What begins as an act of physical relief soon becomes something deeper, as Hannibal, long starved of gentle contact, is forced to confront a vulnerability he’s spent years denying.

hope y'all enjoy, please let me know what you think!! <3

[jomiddlemarch]

And thy mercy shall follow me

6. She woke at dawn.

She lay on her side, her face turned to the courtyard which was filling with the morning’s light. There was a perfect clarity in how it made everything which had been one in night become individual and beautiful in the way of ordinary things. She felt herself like the night’s shadows, a darkness without border, cold and alone. Bereft.

It was a terrible moment to wake and feel John was dead.

She sobbed, once, and swallowed the sound.

“Hush, my lady, all is well,” John said.

She was so startled, she could not move. And then she became aware she could not move because she was held in the circle of his arms, her head pillowed on one, the other wrapped around her. She held his hand in hers, clasped against her breast, their fingers laced together. It was a lovers’ embrace, one she had never shared with her husband, nor any man. He was alive and though warm, his fever had dropped and the hand that she held was steady.

“You are better,” she said. “The Lord has brought you through your crisis.”

“…though I shall go in the midst of shadow of death; I shall not dread evils, for thou art with me,” he said, the Portuguese slower than usual. He was trying to give her the feeling of the English words, how they rang in his mind. “Thou, Mariko, hast brought me through—”

“That is blasphemy,” she said. Aghast, she could not yet ignore the spark of joy within herself to be arguing with him again. The overwhelming sense of peace that came from lying with him and knowing him to be alive, to be still inviolably, himself.

“You already knew me to be a heretic,” he said. “I can’t see how this should trouble you any more than any other transgressions of mine.”

Mariko was silent.

Beneath her, she felt John’s arm become tense.

“You are not truly wroth, are you, Mariko-sama? I intended only to express my gratitude for what you have done for me. How much it meant to me to hear your voice through the pain and the terror. To feel your hands upon me, so gentle, when everything else hurt so greatly,” he said. She had never heard him sound shy before, never beseeching, vulnerable. She did not believe any man of her acquaintance would allow himself such openness with a woman who was not a courtesan, paid for pleasure and even more, discretion.

“I am not angry. I am not even as surprised as I ought to be,” she said. Their hands were still clasped, pressed against her bare skin as her robe had loosened in the night. She looked within herself for shame or dismay, could find nothing but relief. Gladness. 

There was a tremendous comfort in being close to him and she would have to give it up.

Soon enough.

“Sugi will come in shortly, with a meal and tea,” she said. It was a warning, rendered in the most delicate fashion.

“And we should not be found thus,” he said, blunt and bold as before he’d fallen ill. Himself.

“No,” she said. “But a few moments remain.” 

A few, little enough to satisfy. To live on.

“My cup runneth over,” he said.

[otoshigo]

Summary: Trying to thwart the political machinations of the upper echelons of Hell, Lucifer and Alastor enter into a mutual partnership. The boundaries get blurred over the course of a year as they continually have to work on 'making it work'. Nobody ever said that fake relationships would be easy.

A/N: I really enjoyed playing with the time jumps with this one. Kind of using en media res in order to reveal things slowly. Kind of like a mystery book. I also really enjoy examining relationships that may have more conflict but be more honest, and how that can actually be a good thing. ...In this case, way more conflict with these two.

[chillychive]

Good friends are literally the best. I love that my Besties have realized they can touch me, and hug me and lean on me and rest their head against me when they’re tired, and flop on me, and sit close to me. I love that they don’t apologize when we accidentally touch. I love that they hold my hand and offer hugs when I’m sad, and force me to bend down for head pats. I love that they never stopped offering affection, even when I kept saying no. I love that I finally said yes. I loved that they’re defendable. I love that they care. I love that they love me. I love that they make it OK. I love that they make it so much less complicated than it feels. I love that they’ve taught me sometimes, it’s OK to just touch and hold, and not think so much. I love that they’ve shown me all the ways that love can be love, without romance, without sex, without complications. I love that my friends have taught me how to love.

[ladylilithprime]

60 + 62 Casaraph 🪿

60. Poorly Timed Confession

62. Love Confessor (Character A confessing their love for Character B to Character C)

Ohhh, this... this sent me places.....

Sequel to With A Touch Of Your Hand

MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL was perhaps the flimsiest excuse that anyone could think of to have an Archangel and an Angelic renegade who were technically running opposite sides of a Heavenly civil war to meet up in declared neutral territory once a week. Unsurprisingly, it was Dean who had come up with it after Sam had first announced his invitation to Raphael to come back for regular breaks that oh so coincidentally might also have Castiel in attendance taking a break of his own. When Sam questioned why football, Dean had muttered something about "proving Rachel wrong" and asked Castiel what kind of game day snacks would be best to serve to an Angel or Archangel and huffed in offense when Castiel had deadpanned, "Not pork rinds."

Of course, given that the two celestial beings who were invited to these suddenly "traditional and sacred" game nights were, in fact, leading two sides of a supposed civil war as part of an elaborate ruse to flush out the root cause of the corruption of the Host that had led to the attempt at kicking off the Apocalypse early, it was not often that both of them could be there at the same time. Dean had declared that since Sam wanted to play Switzerland then he was responsible for entertaining Angels outside of the actual air time of the game, which led to several very interesting conversations between Sam and Castiel or Sam and Raphael, or even all three of them with Sam acting as both mediator and sounding board to the pair as they tried to sort through their respective avenues of investigation.

Currently, Sam was sitting on the couch with Raphael indulging in a casual intimacy that he hadn't had the opportunity for since Jess's death: he was painting Raphael's vessel's nails with a luminescent shade of golden yellow-orange called "Temple" from a brand that purported to be one hundred percent vegan and cruelty free. The nail polish itself had been found by Castiel, after a stray comment the week before last had led to a discussion of casual intimacies that were safe for angels to carry out among or even with humans. He had brought the bottle of polish, and a further two bottles of clear polish which were intended as "base coat" and "top coat" respectively, the next week and left them in Sam's keeping when Raphael had been unable to attend. Now Raphael was sat sideways on the couch with their left hand resting in Sam's own as his right hand carefully drew the polish-laden brush over each nail to create an even coat of color.

"The delicacy is not unlike wing grooming," Raphael remarked after several minutes of scrutiny as Sam worked. At Sam's encouraging hum, the Archangel continued, "Our wings are the one part of our being that cannot be compressed inside of a vessel requiring us to hold them constantly on a parallel plane of existence to maintain discretion in our movements and protect mortals and ourselves from certain... unwise interactions."

"Like what?" Sam asked, then added quickly, "If you don't mind telling me. I'll understand if it's not something I need to know or shouldn't know."

"There is no harm in you knowing," Raphael assured him. A bit more thoughtfully, they added, "Frankly, it will likely be better for you to have this knowledge in the long run. Firstly, I trust that I do not need to explain the vulnerability that being unable to conceal our wings, this singular aspect of our true forms that can be perceived and manipulated on the physical plane, brings?"

"Yeah, I get that part," Sam nodded, willing his cheeks to stop burning as his mind drew the obvious parallels between Angel wings and human genitals, sensitive and kept covered to avoid them hanging out and being a point of vulnerability to both pleasure and pain.

"Hm," Raphael hummed softly, looking amused. "Yes, that is an apt analogy, and a similar level of intimacy is involved with deliberate touch of wings, whether it be wings to wings or wings to angelic appendages or human hands. Between two Angels, touching another's wings is only ever done between the closest of brethren, most especially between mated pairs, and there is a... structure to those touches and wing movements not unlike human body language and courtship motions. It forms bonds between our Grace, strengthening with repeated contact, and solemnized by exchanging feathers the way your culture would have two humans exchange rings."

"Wow," Sam blinked, amazed and intrigued. He almost voiced the thought that he wished he could see Angel wings in order to be able to watch the way they moved, maybe gain insight into Angelic culture by watching this whole facet of body language he had been unaware of, but held back the words just in time. Instead, he said carefully, "I take it that it's different for humans touching Angel wings? Other hand."

"In one very specific way," Raphael agreed, withdrawing their left hand to rest on their thigh as they presented their right hand to Sam's attentions. "When a human, whose soul is threaded so closely throughout their body, makes skin contact with an Angel's wing, the bond formed between that human and that Angel is much stronger than the light bonds formed between Angels, closer in strength to a fully solemnized mateship bond, and it snaps into being instantaneously with the first touch. This can have some rather awkward and uncomfortable consequences for both the human and the Angel, particularly if either one were unwilling to be mated - married - to the other."

"Yikes," Sam winced, making a mental note to warn Dean away from ever getting handsy with an any Angel wings unless he and the Angel were both ready for a big time eternal commitment. "Definitely a good reason to keep your wings off the physical plane if one accidental touch could trap you into a marriage with a stranger."

"Indeed," Raphael chuckled, smiling at Sam with approval and a bit of fondness. "You understand the issue well. Fortunately, the risk of bonding does not carry over to our shed feathers, otherwise any human who got their hands on one would shortly have to contend with an unhappy Angelic spouse and vice versa. Naturally, a human who is willingly bonded with an Angel or even Angels is in a better position to acquire said shed feathers, but I understand they are regarded highly as spell components down here among those knowledgeable in the magickal arts and fetch a high price."

"Er, yeah," Sam mumbled, keeping his eyes fixed on his careful painting. "Angel feathers are an expensive commodity in the magick user crowd, at least according to Bobby. Scarcity and all that, since Angels weren't coming down here much."

Raphael hummed a little in acknowledgement, and Sam remembered suddenly that Castiel had once said Raphael had been one of the most outspoken in Heaven for keeping Angels and Angelic affairs off of Earth until such time as it could no longer be avoided.

Before either one of them could say anything further, Raphael straightened a millisecond before Sam heard the woosh and rustle of displaced air and wingbeats of an incoming Angel's flight. The Archangel didn't move to stand or withdraw their hands, however, so Sam kept working, assuming that it was likely someone expected. He was right, as barely a heartbeat later the familiar tan trenchcoat entered the edge of his field of view. "Hey, Cas. Glad you could make it."

"Hello, Sam," Castiel greeted him easily before he visibly and audibly turned his attention to Sam's present company with his usual deference and warmth. "Raphael. I am glad you are here. I have made a momentous discovery since last we met."

"I, too, have made a discovery, Castiel," Raphael murmured, before seeming to shake themself a bit and beckoned him forward to join them and Sam on the couch. "You may report your discovery first, if you wish."

"Thank you," Castiel returned, coming to sit on Sam's other side. Sam guessed it was so he and Raphael could face each other without interrupting Sam's attention to Raphael's nails. "I found the demon dealing in souls that don't end up earmarked for the hellhounds, and it isn't a demon at all. It's Balthazar."

"Balthazar?" Raphael repeated, clearly startled, which quickly turned to consternation. "Is he not meant to be guarding the Armoury of Heaven?"

"Indeed he is, and I questioned him to that effect," Castiel answered. "At first he attempted to put me off by declaiming responsibility and blaming me for my 'bad influence' in 'throwing over duty to go off the rails and do whatever the hell you want'. His words."

"Balthazar would never be so crude," Raphael murmured thoughtfully. "A ploy?"

"Indeed," Castiel said, and actually smiled. To Sam, he explained, "Balthazar is unconventional at times, but his loyalty to Heaven is absolute. Once I was able to impress upon him the current state of affairs, he let slip that his true intent was stealing the entire armoury from Heaven and hiding it on Earth so that neither side would be able to use those weapons to devastate Heaven. He was quite taken aback when I approved of his caution and bid him not to tell me anything of where they have been hidden."

"Well, the does bode well for the success of our ruse," Raphael said, frowning slightly. "That is not all you discovered, is it? You are still vibrating."

Sam, who hadn't noticed any actual movement from Castiel at all, blinked. "Vibrating?"

"His wings," Raphael clarified, nodding to the apparently not actually empty space at Castiel's side. "I am aware that you cannot see them, so you will have to trust me that they are quite animated with excitement."

"It might be nothing," Castiel temporized, "but it was something Balthazar said when he thought I wanted the weapons. He said that he had hidden them so well that not even Naomi's pet butcher could dig the location out of him."

"Naomi," Raphael breathed, eyes going wide. "Of all the angels... of course she would be the best positioned to compel and influence members of the Host into dissent and rebellion even while claiming otherwise, and so trusted snd respected as to be considered beyond reproach! But who did he mean by her butcher...?"

"If I may hazard a guess? Thaddeus," Castiel replied grimly. "He is never far from Naomi, and the way he watches some of us... particularly those of us whom Michael tapped as needing correction and reeducation in the past...."

"I see," Raphael grimaced, their expression going briefly ill before settling on apologetic. "Castiel...."

"I know," Castiel murmured back, shifting slightly. Whatever he did, it made Raphael's eyelids flutter briefly in pleasure before going wide with surprise. "It is, as the humans say, water under the dock."

"Bridge," Sam couldn't help but correct, a bit absently as he carefully capped the bottle of clear coat. "The expression is water under the bridge, referring to a bridge of forgiveness between two people or groups built over the troubled waters of whatever argument had separated them into opposing sides."

"An apt metaphor," Raphael said, nodding. "You are done with my nails, then?"

"Yep," Sam nodded, gathering up all three bottles and twisting to hand them to Castiel since he had been the one to get the polish in the first place. "They just need to dry now, and that'll only take about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes tops."

"With the time differential between Earth and Heaven, we can still remain for the game before leaving to act on this intelligence," Castiel offered. "Did you wish to discuss your own discovery?"

"Oh!" Raphael blinked, then blinked again, and then inexplicably began to blush. "Yes, I... It is not so monumentous or relevant to our efforts as your information, more personal, but it was... impactful and will likely bear some discussion."

"I will endeavor to assist you in any way that I can, my Prince," Castiel said, and Sam was definitely not imagining the warmth and affection in the Angel's tone that turned such a formal address into what sounded like an endearment. "What have you discovered?"

"I believe I am falling in love with Sam," Raphael announced.

.....Wait, what?!

[fanfictasia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CT-9904 | Crosshair & Clone Trooper Hunter Characters: Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), CT-9904 | Crosshair Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Platonic Soulmates, Hunter Needs A Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Hunter Angst (Star Wars), Hunter Whump (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), POV Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-9904 | Crosshair is Bad at Feelings, Imperial Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-9904 | Crosshair & Clone Trooper Hunter are Twins, Sibling drama, Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hopeful Ending, Crosshair Rejoins Clone Force 99 | Bad Batch, Possessive Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Alternate Universe - Twins, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Summary:

Soulmates have a very special bond with one another. That’s doubly true when the soulmates in question are twins. Hunter falls on Daro, and he doesn’t walk away without an injury. He doesn’t walk away at all, his spine damaged from the impact. And the only one who can heal him is Crosshair, his twin, his soulmate.

Read on:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14333926/1/Soultwins

https://www.wattpad.com/1426490457-the-bad-batch-one-shot-collection-soultwins

[dtblrficsupport]

this fic literally re-wrote my brain chemistry its soso good and the themes of rebirth and starting anew are just *chef's kiss* https://archiveofourown.org/works/52731736

Let It Flood, Let It Flood, by @sappymix1

Synopsis: “Let me undress you,” he whispered, and Dream nodded. George pulled his shirt over his head, a little bit quick and a lot clumsy. What was easier was removing Dream’s belt, George’s fingers quick and nimble as they undid the buckle and pulled it from his baggy jeans, and it wasn’t long before all that was left of them was two piles of clothes on the floor bleeding into one another, as Dream took George’s hand and carefully pulled him into the shower.

The water was hot enough that it burned, but George beamed the second that he was under it. “It’s not too warm, is it?” Dream asked anyway, self conscious at the notion that he could have fucked up the first thing he had done for George after he got home.

“It’s perfect,” George said, a little bit forceful, like he had known what was going on inside Dream’s head, what thoughts the distance had let fester a bit more than Dream would have liked.

- it's a new year, and they shower.

no matter how much time has passed, an author will always be thrilled about a new comment on their fic :D

hits at the time of queuing: 1,360

[dnffics]

stray italian greyhound

by furculaed

Rated T, 8k words

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Secret Relationship, Getting Together, Non-Sexual Intimacy

Summary:

George steps into Dream’s space and kisses him soundly. His hands cradle his face and he’s thinking, no one else, please. No one after me. Let me be the last.