#not take away something that can otherwise help others.

[headkiss]

hi hi there! Newcomer to your blog here, and I just wanna say that I love love love your writing sm, it makes me warm and happy and I wanna consume it like good soup. I saw that you’re looking for Spencer requests (my beautiful beloved baby) and I was wondering if I could just request a classic friends to lovers where the reader is a member of the team, and gets hurt on a case and that’s what makes Spencer realize? Any format you’d like. This might be a bit tmi but I just got broken up with and honestly fictional men are the only thing getting me through this rn, and seeing you were taking requests was just straight up happiness. Thank you!

this is so sweet what if i cry :,) i hope this helps you at least a little bit (especially since this has been sitting in my drafts for a MINUTE) <3 you will get through this my love (spencer thinks so too!) | 0.7k words!! my first spencer fic so bare with me 😅 tw mention of a knife and a small injury !

You’re no stranger to taking risks. Nobody at the BAU is. It’s practically written into your job descriptions. Split-second decisions, no room for mistakes.

Only, usually they seem to pay off. Mostly. This time, you aren’t so lucky.

After three days of profiling and trying to catch this unsub, of new victims and suspects and secrets uncovered by Garcia, you’ve finally found him. Apprehending an unsub seems to either be the easiest or toughest part of a case.

This time around, it’s the latter. He’s stubborn, and smarter than you’d like to admit, and when you think you’ve got an opening, the upper hand, that one wrong move proves you wrong.

It’s so quick, the way he grabs your wrist and twists your arm behind your back harshly, a pained groan escaping your mouth before you can suppress it. The way the team all springs into action quickly, talking to him calmly, Hotch at the forefront.

And the look on Spencer’s face. The pleading in his eyes that he can’t seem to control.

He’s who you look to first. Who you keep looking at, because you think if anyone could keep you calm in this moment, if anyone could make you believe you’ll be okay, it’s him.

There’s a knife held to your neck, a cruel grip on your arm, and still, you look at Spencer.

“I won’t cut her if you let me go,” the unsub says. You squeeze your eyes shut before blinking them back open.

You know Hotch has a plan, and if he doesn’t, then Emily does, and so on. They’re all incredible, and there’s not a part of you that thinks they won’t get you out of this, but your heart still pounds, your stomach still twists in fear.

“Go ahead,” Hotch says.

“Hotch-” Spencer’s voice is quiet but sharp. He trusts Aaron, he always has, but you aren’t something he wants to gamble.

“You won’t get far,” Hotch continues.

You find Spencer’s eye and nod at him, so slight that he’d be the only one to pick up on it, since he’s paying such close attention to you. Under different circumstances, you might feel your heart flutter from it.

Sure enough, Aaron does have a plan, and before you can really process what he’s said or done to get through to him, the unsub lets you go with a harsh push, and the first place you go is into Spencer’s waiting arms.

“Take her outside, Reid, we’ve got this,” Morgan says quickly. Spencer doesn’t fight him on it.

He walks you out with one arm tight around your waist and the other stabilizing your wrist. His hands are far kinder than the ones that had been on you moments ago, and you let him hold some of your weight until you’re settled sitting in the back of one of the ambulances on scene.

Spencer watches them wrap your wrist with a tensor bandage, watches them assure you that it’s just a sprain, that you’re otherwise injury-free. He holds your good hand the entire time. Maybe too tightly.

You both wait until the paramedics are done and have walked away to help somebody else before speaking.

“Well, that was fun,” you say. Your instincts are always to play things down, to hide behind jokes. Still, you let yourself lean your head against Spencer’s shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. The hand that isn’t holding yours covers your bouncing knee. “I know a lot about odds, and they weren’t in our favor back there.”

“It was mostly my fault, probably. I let him get too close.”

“We arrived seconds later than we should have. That car slowed us down in the intersection on the way, and then the rest was off.” He tells you. Comforting you the way he knows how; with the facts. “Time is what went wrong. Not you. Never you.”

You pick your head up and turn your head to look at him, his hair falling around his ears, his eyes still worried but soft. “Never, huh? I’m gonna remember that.”

Reid squeezes your good hand, his pinky running across your wrist to find your pulse, like he’s making sure you’re really okay. “I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so afraid on the job.”

“Not even when you’re the one being held like that?” you ask.

“No,” he tells you. “Not even then.”

[thelaundrybitch]

Bangin'

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TURTLE DOVES!!!!

Have a little ditty I scraped together for shits and giggles.

Love yas! 🫶🏼🫵🏼💖

I'm gonna go ahead and deem this an 18+ story.

🔥A Dirty Laundry Fic🔥

And as always, my ninja turts are aged up to 30+ years. Don't be weird.

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

Bangin'

You’ve had the hots for Leo for as long as you’ve known the turts. Don knows your dirty little secret because he’s your BFF, and you tell him everything. You’ve made it quite clear to him that if you are ever caught with Leo alone, to come save you. You don’t want to say anything stupid and ruin friendships or lair visiting privileges by confessing your undying love for the eldest turt. So, you do your best to keep your distance because you fear your mouth will commit mutiny, always keeping your interactions with the blue bara fairly short and always ensuring one of his brothers is in the same room in case you need an emergency evacuation.

Leo, however, keeps trying to herd you away from his brothers or catch you alone so he can use that irresistible charm of his, to win your heart. He’s had a big fat crush on you for just as long and has actively been trying to get some alone time with you.

But it’s always thwarted. Whenever he thinks he’s got the upper hand, Donnie appears and whisks you away to the lab to help him with something. Eventually, he gives up, thinking that you and Don have something going on, and tries to occupy his time with additional training, meditating, or reading whenever you come to visit.

This certainly gets your attention.

Effectively crushing your blue-terrapin-loving heart.

A few months go by as you try to tell yourself that his lack of attention and interaction is for the best, and you almost have yourself to that ‘ok’ point.

Until…

The dreams start

Hot, horny, and hella realistic. You dream about honor boy pinning you to every surface of the lair. You swear you can almost feel his mouth on your skin. You can even smell that bergamotty goodness that is Leonardo, right as you’re waking up. 

Sometimes, the dreams are so realistic you have to walk around your apartment to make sure he’s not actually there.

It’s at this point you decide you need to avoid him altogether. Otherwise, you’re going to end up mauling him and begging him to make your dreams come true.

Leo, on the other hand, has been in absolute agony. And still IS in agony. He can’t get you out of his head no matter what he does. Your scent always seems to linger in the air for days after you’ve visited, no matter what room he walks into. Your voice echoes in his mind as he reads, that sweet laughter clouding his focus, rendering his imaginary escape impossible. 

Pretty sounds slipping from your pretty lips, with your small form fitting perfectly under his much bigger one, taking him so well every time he closes his eyes. Both asleep and awake.

It’s fucking torture.

Then it happens.

You walk into Don’s lab one day on a rampage. You’re tired. You’re sexually frustrated. And it’s all Leonardo’s fault.

Now, Don already knows about these dreams - because, of course, you told him. So, the moment you slam his lab door open, he puts down what he’s working on and gives you his undivided attention as you start spewing about your latest dreamland tryst. 

As you're talking very animatedly with Don about said adult activities you are going into great detail about positions, and kinks, and all kinds of risque dialogue.

Little do you know that Leonardo is present. He is over behind the lab table, squatting down and looking for a book that Don recommended on focusing through distractions.

He’s getting ready to stand up and leave when he hears your upset voice but freezes the moment you start talking about your latest dream. Because all of a sudden, out from your perfect, pretty little mouth comes all these words. Talking about all these physically untried ✨positions✨ accompanied by some over-exaggerated, very real-sounding… noises.

And he just—

Flatlines.

Zero brain activity.

He stands up so fucking fast that he slams his head on the shelf; the shelf dislodges and catapults the contents ALL over the place.

And he is mortified.

You're mortified.

Because you were absolutely reenacting some of said positions with a stool from the lab table.

And the way he's looking at you?

He's gotta fucking know.

But he doesn't.

And that secret crush he's had on you for years is about to be blown.

Holding your breath, you carefully stand the stool back to an upright position, giving Don the hairy eyeball before looking back at Leo for his response. 

Good God, you’re gorgeous.

His eyes are glued to you, and he’s watching every little move you make. Leo hasn’t seen you this close in months.  

Sure, he’s seen you from afar and in every dream, but being less than twenty feet from you is doing unmentionable things to him.

The way your v-neck tee is hugging all your curves in all the right places has his head spinning. You look good enough to eat.

He’s not sure what comes over him (quite possibly the oncoming concussion), but his legs move on their own accord and bring him around the lab table to where you’re standing with your face hotter than lava and wishing the Earth would open up and swallow you whole.

He stands almost on top of you, looking down into those enchanting eyes of yours, his own baby blues flicking back and forth from your eyes to your lips and back again.

He’s as silent as the calm before a storm, with waves of intensity rolling off of him like a tsunami and threatening the existence of your panties.

It’s too much. The looming. His intimidating presence. You know he knows, and you need to explain yourself before he hurls your ass out of the lair for good.

Stuttering out his name, you tell him you can explain and proceed to put your foot directly in your mouth as the verbal vomit gives away your position. They’re just dreams! You can’t help what your brain thinks about while you’re asleep! As a matter of fact, it’s his fault! Yeah! You can’t help that he’s the one-

“Me?” If Leonardo had eyebrows, they would’ve flown clean off his face. “I’m in these dreams?”

Eyes rivaling the size of Jupiter you glance at Don, who has nearly bitten off his tongue trying not to laugh, and just shrugs at you. Swallowing hard, you look back at Leo, whose irises are barely visible with how big his pupils are blown.

Trembling, you swallow hard and nod slowly. 

Without a second thought, he squats down, scoops you up like a princess, and growls out, “You need to come with me.”

“Wha- why?!” you panic, your hands moving around his neck to steady yourself in his arms.

He brings you in closer to his face, and in a husky voice, he tells you, "Because we need to go somewhere with thick walls… Those delicious noises and screams? They're all mine. No one else gets to hear those."

And that's the story of how you became part of Leonardo's mattress.

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[reignpage]

hey! im not sure if this is a dumb question, but i know we dived into the interior design aspect of the modern au men, but i was wondering what their wedding aesthetic would be? would they want a say in the planning or let reader design the wedding of her dreams :)

not dumb at all 😤 that's a great question. since the pictures didn't stay in the layout I like for the interior design question, I'll just describe it, unless people want specific pics in which case I'll do that, I just think the layout is ugly 😡

gojo and reader:

he'll be pretty involved. I imagine his reader wouldn't really want to plan everything since she's pretty lazy lol, so he'll take control of things, otherwise their parents' will ruin everything and make it so basic and white they'd both hate it. gojo becomes a bridezilla. "I said I want ebony black! this is clearly ink black. are you blind? ugh what do I pay you for? so hard to find good help these days!"

he'd have it a classy mix of black and white, in a cathedral, very grand and awe inspiring. there has to be an organ. reader wears a black gown, dramatic veil and black roses. gojo is in a black suit, everyone else wears white.

it'd likely be a winter wedding and it'd make global news. the reception would be a formal event for the sake of the family rep and business, so it'll be stiff and clean and they hate it. but the after party is lit!!! it's a damn rave, everyone's going crazy. they'll party for a little while before slipping out for their honeymoon.

geto and reader:

something more intimate for sure. they follow the shinto traditional wedding, held at a shinto shrine, their parents and immediate relatives and friends, even some clients of theirs. riko attends. it's important for geto to pay respect to his culture and to traditions so he's pretty involved and they make it a fun thing where reader learns more about Japan.

reader wears a slightly pink kimono, like off-white. her sister is her maid of honour, and her dad still 'gives her away' in their own way. so it's a good mix of western traditions and Japanese.

they also have an after party with just their friends but it's not a party party, it's a casual visit to a local ramen place where they drink sake and talk about the good ole days.

choso and reader:

pretty likely to elope cause of reader. maybe do a Las Vegas shotgun wedding for funsies. but if they were to have a more traditional wedding cause of the Ryomens, it'd be boho, maybe on the beach, very light airy clothes, lots of bright colour flowers, lots of dancing and laughing. they’d exchange paintings of each other before the wedding. choso would absolutely cry seeing reader walking down the aisle

reader would wear a white but modern and immodest dress (not necessarily revealing but she wouldn’t believe in ‘covering up’). It’d be a pretty hip dress. choso would wear a loose white shirt and trousers to fit the beach, also not very traditional but not very wild either. on their wedding night, they share an intimate moment where they paint each other’s clothes/have sex. and those clothes are preserved and put on display in their art studio

toji and reader:

he wouldn’t be very involved. doesn’t really care about things like that. just lets her plan everything. she’ll ask for his input on things but ultimately ignore them lol. their wedding is rustic, maybe somewhere like a vineyard. they’ll have everything done at the venue, as in they won’t move around, they’re practical and toji was adamant about the wedding not being high maintenance and that’s fine with reader since she doesn’t care all that much either

the important thing is the landscape, a beautiful natural setting where fairy lights can be strung up, the tables will be arranged outside for dinner, jazz band playing in the background, dance floor packed. they’ll slow dance and have one of those moments where everyone fades away and toji stops grumbling and admits she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and that he’ll never forget this day

how could they afford this you ask? well let’s just say sukuna snarks about how he gave Fushiguro so much money and yet it seems like none of it went to the wedding.

nanami and reader

reader is a bridezilla. her and gojo complain to each other about how no one ever appreciates the importance of flower arrangements and the difference between eggshell and ivory. she gets very anxious and panicky about everything. even has a breakdown a month or two before the wedding because she gained weight and was worried she wouldn’t fit in the dress. she’s crying on the bathroom floor telling nanami this must be a sign the universe doesn’t want them together and he should find someone better. like she’s sobbing and rocking back and forth. nanami sighs and tells her he loves her so much and not even the universe could ever get in the way of that. even reminds her about astronomy and how the stars were aligned on their first kiss and on the night he proposed etc etc. hearing the physics talk calms her down

seeing how stressed she is, he tells her he could take care of everything, or they could elope or just have a simple ceremony. he apologises for leaving her to do what she wanted because he thought that was best but he realised he should have been with her every step of the way. from then on, he’s very hands on.

they have the wedding at a botanical garden. there’s a wide field, beautiful hedges and a grand fountain, inside is very classy, intimate dining room, very old money style. they invite close friends and families only. it was originally going to be a big affair because of family stuff but nanami realised that was adding pressure to her so he, without mercy or giving room for argument, disinvited a boatload of people and faced the scrutiny of the relatives lol. gojo joked in his speech that he was surprised he was still invited and nanami muttered that he himself is surprised too.

sukuna and reader

big, grand affair because of the ryomens. one of those crazy rich asians wedding style. like five separate events. celebrity guests, bruno mars performed lol. they hate every second but they bare with it. none of it was organised by them, just pure ryomen family bs. and that’s fine with reader. she doesn’t care. the weddings doesn’t mean shit to her. she just likes being a ryomen now and how she’s legally recognised as sharing his wealth and power. the prenup negotiations was insane tho. don’t forget she’s a lawyer so that shit was intense and just relentless warfare. sukuna was willing to sign everything away, he had no intentions of ever divorcing her or cheating or any of that so he wasn’t worried. but obvi the family had to step in.

they actually had their own ceremony way before the official wedding/s, where they went somewhere far away idk like brazil and had a local tribe declare them spiritually married. they wanted to get married on their own terms and they don’t even place any romantic importance on marriage. no flimsy piece of paper is needed to tell sukuna that reader is his in every sense. so they celebrate two separate anniversaries, their official one which is very public and extravagantly celebrated every year, and their real one which they celebrate with a bottle of wine and rough sex.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

All The Reasons Why

Sorry for the lack of updates. Been suffering from jet lag and still kind of am, staying up until 3am for an event isn't helping much, pretty sure I haven't actually slept the whole night/early morning. Anyways after all that angst here's some...uh fluff? Sad fluff but still fluff I'm pretty sure

Summary: Alcohol loosens Silco's tongue and you find out a lot more about Silco's feelings towards you than what you expected

You've never really seen Silco drunk before. He has such a high tolerance towards alcohol that sometimes you believe he's immune to getting drunk, but tonight proves otherwise because he's stumbling into your room with flushed cheeks and red ears.

"Silco?" You hurriedly guide him to your bed before he can smack face first into anything. Considering how you knew he was outside your room from the very loud string of curses that came after the sound of something smacking into your door, you don't quite trust him to navigate his way around your room.

"Hey." His speech is slightly slurred, sea foam eyes unfocused. He better not puke all over your bed or anywhere in your room for that matter, you don't want to clean up that kind of mess in your room. He does obediently sit on your bed, watching you rather intently.

"Did you need something?" You ask, not quite sure why he tried to enter your room in the first place.

"I need to tell you a secret. Promise you will not tell anyone else?" You can smell the alcohol coming off his breath even when there's a gap between you both, a testament to how much he's drunk tonight.

"Uh, sure." Well this is intriguing. Silco always kept his secrets to himself, refusing to give others a peak at the cards he held in fear of them using it against him, not even Vander knew everything about Silco.

"There is this…person who I like."

You raise an eyebrow, lips quirking up in amusement. What an opener. You're pretty sure you know who he's talking about, but there's still a small part of you that doubts it, whispering all the reasons why it isn't the person you're thinking about, hissing that you're delusional and that he's found someone better. Someone better than you.

"They are amazing in every way. They look good, they fight well, they are better than me when it comes to scaring unwanted attention away. They are kind, caring, nothing like the tough image they project to the world. They hide behind the image of a rough unfeeling fighter because they have to in order to survive, but they are always so gentle with me and the ones they care about. They always worry about me, always know when I need someone to talk to, always know when to give me space and when to offer me their shoulder to lean on. They know all my habits, know my favourite food and drink, know where to find me, sometimes I wonder if there is nothing they do not know about me." He takes a deep breath, gaze searching the floor.

"But they are atrocious at giving compliments. It is as though they cannot say nice things to other people. I know though, that they compliment people through actions. They like messing up my hair, slapping me on the back, nudging me with their shoulder, sometimes they even tell me 'not bad', but that is the nicest thing they will ever say to me. I know that when they mess up my hair they are proud of me, slapping me on the back means 'well done' and 'not bad' means 'great job'." He smiles softly and you can't help but smile back, a warmth growing in your chest.

"I like it. I like the way they cannot compliment people, I like the way they try to show their appreciation for someone by doing little things for said person, I like the way their nose scrunches when they try to say something nice but all that comes out is 'not bad'. I like the way they fiercely devote themselves to everything, from what they believe in to protecting someone they care about. One moment they are angrily hissing at someone to shove off and the next they are turning to me, asking if I am alright in the most monotonous tone ever." He laughs quietly, gripping the bed sheet.

You recall when that exact situation happened, the confused look he gave you upon hearing your question and the amusement in his voice as he told you that you could at least ask him that with some concern. In your defense, you were checking him for injuries at the same time, analysing any possible sign knowing that he would stubbornly keep any injury a secret from you.

"I like the way they awkwardly react when I hug them, standing stiffly like a brick and staring at me confused. I like the way they do their best to console me when I cry, whether it be resting a hand on my back or patting my head. I like their loyalty. I know I can entrust more than my back to them, I know I can entrust my life to them because they will never betray me, never turn their back on me. I know that they will burn the world for me, and that if the whole world turns against me they will still stand by my side and fight against the world with me. I like every part of them — the parts they are proud of and the parts they hate." His voice drops to a whisper. "But I cannot understand what they like about me. They look at me and see 'Silco', not a miner, not Vander's shadow, not a 'dirty little thing' but I am not like Vander — a strong fighter with a heart as big as his size. I am not like Felicia — sociable, gentle and kind. All I can do is plot from the shadows, skulk about at celebrations, stare at my notebook as my friends chatter the night away. I am only a 'dirty little thing', not someone to be so devoted to, cherished, or loved."

A lump forms in your throat at his words. To hear him tear himself apart, believe the things enforcers and those who hate him say about him, it makes your heart ache.

"I think they like you because of how passionate you are about the dream of Zaun." You swallow hard, struggling to find the correct words to say. "They like the way you dare to dream big, the way you strive to become more than what others think you are. They like the way you persevere through it all, the determination in your eyes that drives you each and every day. It gives them hope, encourages them to dream of what can be, makes them fall in love with you over and over again. They like the way you fight for what you hold dear, no matter the odds you face."

He shakes his head, biting his lip as tears begin form.

"They like you because of how much you care about those you love, even if you don't ever show it through words. They like the way you smile contentedly as you quietly listen to friends banter, rolling your eyes when they say something dumb and drop the wittiest line whenever you do say something. They like the way you struggle to get properly mad at them for doing something stupid, the annoyed sigh you make as you massage the bridge of your nose when you find out they've done the very thing you told them not to and the way you always threaten to leave them to suffer the consequences alone but never do. They like the smile that forms on your face when you're proud of them, the way the corners of your eyes crease when you're happy." You don't recall when you took his hand in yours but it sits there now, nestling warmly as your fingers intertwine.

"They like the quiet laugh you make when something amuses you, the messy bedhead that they always see first thing in the morning, the sleepy mumbles that fall from your lips as you stumble towards the bathroom. They like the smell of the coffee that you make, the way you bring it to them in their bed piping hot and freshly made, the gentle kiss you press to their forehead after that. They like the way you lie down on their stomach, face buried in their shirt when you're tired. They like the moments when it's complete silence but it's a comfortable silence. They like the way your first thought is always them, even when you're drunk." You pull him into a hug, the first one you've ever initiated and he freezes for a moment before returning the hug, burying his face into your shoulder.

"They like the way you're always there for them, the way you always know when something's wrong, the way you always know how to cheer them up. They like how you've memorised all their favourite things, their habits, and always surprise them with little gifts." His tears stain your sleeve, causing the damp fabric to stick to your skin but you don't care. You gently rub his back, a motion that you've since learned brings him great comfort and hear him sniffle.

"They like the way your palm fits into theirs just nice, the sound of your heart beating, the warmth of your body pressed against theirs underneath the blanket, and they want nothing more. They just want you for who you are, want you as you are, love you as you are because to them you're amazing, you're their whole world, their everything. And they're glad to know you feel the same way too." You nuzzle into his hair, holding him tightly.

He clings onto you, gripping onto your shirt as the tears flow and his body shakes with each sob. You simply continue holding him, giving him all the time he needs to let everything out and soon he's cried himself to sleep in your arms. You gently tuck him into your bed before dipping under the covers yourself, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I love you Silco. Always have and always will."

[pomegranatesarchive]

can i order zabaglione featuring fred weasley? thank u so much

zabaglione: "did you know you talk in your sleep?"

view the menu here!

.

Fred didnt mean to fall asleep, you knew that. He was just very very tired.

Planning pranks were harder than people thought, more time-consuming than people thought.

But now Fred and George weren't just planning pranks, they were planning to open a whole pranking shop. That differently took its sweet time.

Fred always made sure to make time for you, even when your relationship was new, he made it a goal to spend at least one hour a day together. No matter what was going on, he would make sure to give you your well-deserved hour.

Then he told you about his after-school plans with George, to open a joke store together. You thought it was amazing, but you knew that meant spending even less time together, and although it made you disappointed, you made the decision to downgrade your one hour together, to thirty minutes.

Initially, Fred didnt like that idea, claiming that he could manage, but you didnt want to stress him even more, so you put your foot down.

From that moment on it seemed like every moment you spent together went in a blink of an eye, you two barely had any time to talk about each other's day. You would never admit it, but it was horrible, you wanted nothing more but to spend time with your beloved boyfriend.

It was a standard morning when Fred waltzed up to you during breakfast and let you know that he had 'cleared his schedule' excitedly telling you that you were going to hang out all day, and he was going to take you to Hogsmeade.

You too had fun, he bought you everything you would glance at (mostly sweets) and after a while, you two went back to the common room, where you slipped upstairs to put away all your goods. You took no longer than maybe ten minutes. But when you trailed back downstairs, you found a sound-asleep Fred.

You frowned, walking over to the couch and looming over him, yes you knew it was bad that you were in some way mad at him for falling asleep, but you couldn't help it, you just wanted more time with him.

"Missed you..." Your head snapped down to him, for a second you had thought he was awake, but his closed eyes said otherwise.

'Thats creepy' you thought, sitting down by his head.

"No...no...come here..." you heard a soft whisper once more, your head snapped over, catching his mouth move, oh so he was joking.

"Not funny Fred," you smiled, shaking your head, waiting for him to jump up from the couch, which he never did. "Fred?" you whispered.

"Bad idea George.." he mumbled, turning to his side.

Your face brightened in realization, "Are you sleeptalking?" you asked as if he would answer.

It only took five more minutes for Fred to wake up, he sprung up from the couch, looking around the room widely, his frantic eyes landing on you, "Oh blimey did I fall asleep? I- I am so sorry love I didnt mean to-"

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" you interrupt him, he pauses, moving over to sit next to you, his head making its way to your shoulder.

He hummed, "Used to," he murmured, "Creeped mum out bad. Why?"

"You were doing it," you smiled, leaning your head on his.

"Really?" he sounded surprised, "What was I saying?"

"Something about missing George."

Fred paused, his eyes squinting, "That doesn't sound right."

You laugh, head thrown back in laughter, Fred lifted his head and watched with a smile, "You know what does sound right?"

You hum, he smiled, pulling you into his arms, "Me missing you." he places a kiss on your head.

You peer up at him and blink, "Yeah that sounds right."

.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 5]

He should have never got on that broom.

He shouldn't have tried, he shouldn't have done it inside the Drake manor, he shouldn't have chosen the day when his parents were hundreds of miles away.

He should have at least told Minky. Or Tiksy. Or any other house elf, he should have followed Danny's mother's advice and had an adult around, why is he so bloody stupid, he is such an idiot, he-

"Young Master!" Minky's voice comes from his right after a loud crack of apparation, and Tim almost chokes on another one of his jagged, broken sobs. Everything is blurry, and his eyes and cheeks are wet, and Tim really tries to wipe the tears away, but they just appear again, no doubt making him look as even more of a mess.

"My leg hurts," he tells in the direction of the blurry, brown and white blob that is supposed to be Minky if he could just stop crying for one moment. Then, he sobs again, holding his hands to just above his knee, "Get someone."

He doesn't specify who. Because, and Tim knows it, there's no one to get - his parents are far away, he remembers them mentioning Egypt or maybe Sudan, but Minky can't go that far. But Tim can't do this himself, and house elves can't help because the bone under his knee is bended the wrong way and it hurts, and Tim can hear his own, rushing pulse beat like a drum inside his head.

He is going to die like this. In the middle of Drake manor, on the floor of the empty ballroom. Because no one would come, no one would-

There's a crack in the air, louder than any apparation, that runs like an electric jolt through Tim's skin, and then a crashing bang of broken wood that rings through the whole manor. Tim snaps his head up as his heart skips a beat - no one can come into the manor, there are wards, a lot of them, he knows it.

His lungs hurt, and his leg still hurts, too, and he can't run, but there's someone else in his house, someone who broke through the protective wards. Tim's vision goes from just blurry to dark at the edges - he is breathing too fast, he needs to calm down and make as little noise as possible, because maybe it's some kind of robbers and they-

"Here, Young Master is being here!" He hears Minky's voice again, and he barely has time to feel hurt by her betrayal before there's a huge, looming dark figure in front of him.

Tim whimpers, trying to move away.

It only makes his leg explode in pain all over again, causing him to bite on his lip until there's a coppery taste on his tongue. But then, the figure gets down on one knee, and through all the tears and panic, Tim notices an emblem on the intruder's robes.

A big, golden 'M' with something written on the bottom.

Auror. The man kneeling in front of him is an auror. From the Ministry.

Minky didn't just bring some random person into the manor - and Tim feels so stupid to have thought otherwise, she is a perfectly loyal, caring elf that he's known his whole life, how could he think that way about her? - she did exactly as she's been told. She got someone.

"Hey, there," the auror speaks, and Tim can't really see his face, but his voice is gentle and soft, and there's an intangible wave of warmth radiating from him. Tim had grown to associate it with magic - as in, when there's so much of it in someone's body that it spills out, charging the air around them. Makes sense if he got through the wards of Drake manor all on his own.

"Hi," Tim croaks out, still holding on to his knee, and blinks a couple of times, trying to get rid of his tears. It works badly.

"My name is Bruce," the man speaks again, and his hands are moving, slow and careful so as not to scare Tim with any sudden movements. He would have appreciated it a little more, probably if his leg was not- Tim takes a sharp breath in. If his leg was not broken. There, he's said it. Or, at least he thought it in his head.

But, before he can go back to focusing on the blooming, pulsing pain right under his knee, the auror - Bruce - points his wand at his broken limb, and softly, quietly murmurs, "Praerigidus."

The pain disappears instantly, like someone cut it off, and instead, his leg feels cold and numb, like frozen solid. Tim's breath hitches, and he hastily wipes the tears away to look down at it, just to make sure his leg is still there, that the auror didn't just vanish it into nothingness. But, no, thankfully, it's still attached, albeit bent in a very wrong way that makes Tim's stomach twist.

"Ferula," the man casts again, pointing his wand at Tim's leg once more, and long strips of white bandages appear out of the tip of it, wrapping themselves tightly around the broken limb to secure it. "Let's get you to Mungo's," the auror suggests next, and, for the first time, Tim sees his face.

He looks younger than Father or Mother, and he is definitely darker than them. Drakes are all pale, sometimes even sickly so - in Tim's case, or so he's heard - but the auror's skin is a few shades warmer. And his hair is a mess.

Kind of like Danny's.

Tim nods, not entirely sure he can find his voice or manage to avoid it sounding like he swallowed a frog. The man - he is an adult, and Tim is not comfortable calling him by his first name, and he doesn't know what family he is from - smiles back at him. It's a small smile, one that only touches the corners of his lips, but Tim knows it counts. His Mother smiles in the same way.

Minky makes a high-pitched, worried sound, and Tim feels a little guilty that he completely forgot about her still standing there. He looks up at her and smiles, too, "It's okay, he's an auror," he turns to the man, "Right, sir?"

"That is correct," There's a tinge of amusement in auror's voice as he picks Tim up in his arms like he weights nothing. It's surprisingly comfortable to be held like that. Warm, like the auror's magic. "Thank you, Ms. Minky, I'll take it from here. I will be sending an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Drake, but if you would like to check on your young master later, you have my permission to appear at Wayne Manor at any time. Alfred will be there to meet you."

Tim blinks, his whole body freezing at once, just like his leg did before.

Wayne Manor?!..

—☆—☆—☆—

Where the crash landing happened:

Bruce's portrait back at the Manor and his first impression of Tim:

[Picrew] | [Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

Worldbuilding notes that got really long this time:

Waynes are (err, were) a pureblood family that was proud of their heritage and resented muggles and muggle culture quite publicly. But then Martha came along, a sweet half-blood Slytherin child full of charm, innocent smiles and ambition that went far beyond what anyone expected. Thomas, who was also very much a Slytherin, was gone for her instantly, and, shortly after they were wed, they both started - also publicly - giving zero shits about pureblood nonsense.

They later died by the hands of a muggle, while coming back from a muggle cinema in a muggle part of London, and Daily Prophet was very cruel about it. There were more than a few articles that went on and on about the matter, most of them along the lines of 'that's what you get for liking muggles'.

Newly orphaned Bruce was left with an empty Wayne Manor, a few house elves, and Alfred Pennyworth, who claimed himself a butler (but the rumor has it he was in a relationship with both Martha and Thomas, and the evidence - he was also a Slytherin in their year - speaks for itself, and besides, who in their right mind becomes a butler in the wizarding world without some ulterior motives?)

Understandably, Bruce threw a fit and promptly became, a) a fucking menace, b) the first Gryffindor in the Wayne family in six generations, c) an auror, d) hell-bent on adopting the most unfitting (heritage-wise) kids into his family, according to the Prophet. He is on the mission to fistfight a millenia old prejudice, and he is desperate to win.

Minky fetched him of all people because he was the closest competent adult in the area with enough magic to get through the wards. Waynes and Drakes are neighbors - as much as you can say that when they both have acres of land in their respective estates.

Also, Tim's reaction to the name happens because, one, his parents made it obvious enough they don't like Bruce despite him being their closest neighbor, and, technically, a pureblood, and two, he didn't expect to not be returned back to Drake estate after his leg is dealt with.

Dick is currently a fourth year in Hogwarts and Jason is a first year (just like Jazz, btw). More on them later.

Also, hey, remember the poll? Heroic break in it was, with the additional spice of broom accident.

[<- part 4 | part 6 ->]

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 9/9

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 3.8k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

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Chapter Nine

“Is that your Secret Santa gift?” Evan asked, pointing at the bag next to the tree. 

“Hmm, yeah.” 

Evan got a mischievous grin on and went to grab it. Tommy slapped his hands away. Evan turned to him at once, mouth open in put upon shock. 

“No peeking, Evan.” 

Evan narrowed his eyes on him. “Why? It’s not like you got me. Or, wait, did you?” 

Tommy grabbed Evan by the shoulders and turned him around. “You’ll find out who everyone got in two days. Whole point of Secret Santa.” 

“Hen’s not even here,” Evan said and though Tommy couldn’t see him, he knew he was pouting. 

“You know that somehow she’ll find out if I let you know who I got and what I got them.” 

Tommy glanced back at the bag. He was going to have to rewrap that, wasn’t he? Otherwise Evan would figure it out early. There was also the fact that Tommy didn’t think it was complete quite yet. He did have an idea on what might complete it. That would be something to take care of when he got back from breakfast. 

“Come on,” Tommy said, “I thought you were hungry.” 

“Starving,” Evan said. “I guess the chips and guac from last night were not enough.” 

“Definitely not,” Tommy said. “The ice cream helped.” 

They had both been too caught up in each other to think about dinner the night before and then had found that Tommy had literally nothing in his kitchen to make a meal out of. Not even eggs. So, they had settled for the giant bag of lime sea salt tortilla chips Evan found in a cabinet and the guacamole Tommy had remembered he’d bought the last time he was in a store, instead of going out to get food or ordering take out. They’d eaten that while watching Christmas movies in the living room until Tommy pulled out the ice cream. After that they both decided to head back to Tommy’s bed. It was no wonder they both woke up at the crack of dawn starving. 

Waking with Evan wrapped around him had been everything in spite of also waking to Evan’s stomach literally growling with hunger.

They wound up at a diner that Tommy had never been to. It seemed like it had kept all the aesthetics of a 50s diner including an actual jukebox that when they sat down was playing Frank Sinatra’s version of Jingle Bells. 

The menus were laminated and Tommy didn’t have to even glance at it before ordering pancakes. 

“Should have known that’d be your go to,” Evan said and then went with scrambled eggs with sausage and toast. 

“You can’t go wrong with pancakes,” Tommy said. 

“I guess. So…what, uh, what happens now?” 

Tommy had been expecting the question. They’d been in a bit of a bubble, a sex bubble. The best type of bubble. What little they had talked about had put them there and it was actually probably smart of them to talk things out in public so neither of them could find a way to distract the other. 

“Would you consider this a second date?” Tommy asked.

Evan smiled at him, reached for his hand across the table. “I could be on board with that.” 

“Good.” He gave Evan’s hand a squeeze. “I won’t freak out this time. I want this to work, Evan.” 

“Me too. But what about work?” 

“I don’t know,” Tommy admitted. “It’s not like I ever planned on dating anyone I worked with. And look, we don’t have to say anything to anyone. You’re not out. You’re still discovering yourself. I don’t expect you to be ready to just tell everyone.” 

Hen probably suspected, but she wouldn’t say anything. Tommy could even pull her aside and talk to her about it, but he didn’t even think that was necessary. 

“We can be professional,” Tommy said. “Definitely no repeats of what happened in the bathroom during the toy drive.” 

Evan looked like he was going to protest that. Tommy was going to have to hold strong against how much of a tease Evan could be. It’d be difficult, but he’d do it. 

“I’m serious,” Tommy said. 

“So we’re keeping this a secret,” Evan said and his voice had gone a little strained. 

“Uh, we don’t have to. I just figured you probably aren’t ready to tell everyone that you’re not as straight as we all thought.” 

Their food arrived and Evan thanked the waitress. 

“I don’t know if I want to lie to everyone,” Evan said. “I don’t know if I can.” 

Tommy let out a sigh. Evan was an open book especially around everyone at work. It was one of the reasons that he got along so well with everyone. Who could hate someone like Evan? Tommy had certainly tried to dislike him and failed. 

“Look, my experience isn’t yours. I was ashamed and I had some not supportive people around. It’s different for you, but that doesn’t make it less scary. It’s new for you and I can go at whatever pace you set. You can show up and tell them next shift. Or it can happen next week or next month. I’m here either way. It’s up to you, Evan.” 

Evan took a moment and then he let out a sigh. “Can I think about it?” 

“Of course.” 

Tommy thought that he might also have to get a good look at what the policy was on dating a coworker so they could be prepared to deal with it. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Evan said, then, apropos of nothing, “what’s up with all the flight manuals?” 

Tommy hadn’t known that Evan looked at his bookshelf all that closely. 

“You saw those?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“I was a pilot while I was in the Army,” Tommy said. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting from Evan, but the way that his jaw dropped was not it. 

“How did I not know this already? That’s — I mean that’s so cool that you know how to fly. Helicopters? Planes?” 

“Both,” Tommy said. “I, uh, I don’t advertise it.” 

Evan looked even more shocked at that. “Why? If I could fly I’d tell everyone I ever met. I’d start off with that. Why aren’t you flying for airsupport?” 

Tommy chuckled. “I fly in my free time. And that was my plan originally. It takes more than just having the license. There’s a lot of requirements and it’s competitive even when there is a free spot open.” 

“Oh,” Evan said. 

Tommy smiled at him. “One day, Evan. But, I could take you up sometime. If you want.”

“If I want? Yes, Tommy, I want. You don’t know how much hotter you just became to me. My pilot boyfriend.” 

Tommy rolled his eyes even though hearing Evan call him his boyfriend was doing something to him, enough so that when the bill came he was just a few seconds too late to Evan grabbing it and sticking his card into the holder. 

After breakfast, Tommy drove back to the 118 so Evan could get his car. Evan seemed reluctant to leave Tommy’s truck, and Tommy couldn’t even blame him because he didn’t want to leave Evan either. Wasn’t it odd, to not get tired of another person? 

They lingered in the car together, both of them excusing that Evan was still telling Tommy about his sister even though it was the second or third topic they had begun right there in the car. 

“I haven’t seen her in years,” Evan was saying. “I guess I miss her the most at the holidays.” 

Tommy grabbed his hand and Evan smiled at him. Tommy didn’t fully understand the story behind Evan’s sister, but he knew she was important to him and that there was a lot of hurt there too. He had also gathered that it probably wasn’t her choice that they weren’t in contact. He hoped she was alright for her sake and Evan’s both. 

When Evan finally let out a sigh, Tommy knew it was time. 

“I guess I’ll see you next shift?” 

“Yes.” 

Evan nodded and then he leaned over and kissed Tommy, pulling back long enough to just look at him before he kissed him again. Tommy wanted nothing more than to keep kissing him. 

“Go,” Tommy said after the third kiss. “Or you never will.” 

“Bye, Tommy,” Evan said and once he was out of the car he waved at Tommy before going to his own. 

Tommy waited until Evan had started his car and pulled out before he did, heading back home where it was far too quiet. 

-

Walking into the station on Christmas Eve, Buck found Hen at the Christmas tree arranging the presents that the others had already brought in. Despite having seen Tommy’s truck parked outside he didn’t see the bag he’d seen at his house which made Buck just a tad suspicious. Buck was curious about what kind of gift giver Tommy was, but he’d find out later when they opened presents. 

“Wrapped and everything,” Buck announced to Hen. “Where do you want it?” 

“Give it here,” she said. “Who helped you wrap these?”

“Hey, I have skills,” Buck said. “And Youtube.”

And also Connor, but Hen didn’t need to know that one of Buck’s roommates was very good at wrapping and had done all the fancy folds on Tommy’s new pencils. He’d done it all right before leaving to catch a flight to get home for Christmas. In fact, Buck had never seen the house so quiet over the last day with everyone going home to see their parents. Considering how much Buck was enjoying having the place to himself, it was making Buck think that it really was time he start looking for a place of his own. That might have to be his goal in the new year. 

Hen bumped his shoulder once she was done arranging everything. “So then you wouldn’t mind if I got you to wrap Denny’s birthday presents in a few months.” 

“I think Karen probably knows what she’s doing,” Buck said. “I should go get changed.” 

“Admit it, Buckley, you didn’t wrap any of them,” Hen said. 

Buck shrugged his shoulders as he turned and walked away. 

When he spotted Tommy in the locker room the urge to walk up to him and kiss him was strong. He had to tamp it down and just nod at him. Tommy smiled through his own nod and then gave his shoulder a squeeze when he walked out. They hadn’t seen each other since Tommy dropped Buck off to pick up his car, but they had texted a little, and Tommy had reiterated that they would need to be professional at work. 

Buck was going to break and give them away, he was sure of it and a part of him didn’t care. A different part was a little worried about how things might change and not in regards to Tommy, but just in how everyone saw Buck and how they treated him. It was a little irrational. 

Logically he knew nothing would change. Hen already knew. Tommy knew, obviously. Chim would probably pretend that he’d seen it coming. Bobby would probably have more to say about Buck and Tommy being together than anything else and only where it interfered with their work. Despite his own past regarding inappropriate use of department equipment, Buck did think he could be professional about it. 

Still, Buck wanted to wait, but not for very long, just until he and Tommy were a bit more steady in the relationship they were forming. It was so new and throwing in the opinions of everyone they worked with would probably be a horrible idea. 

The day didn’t drag, but it was also full of mundane calls. A small fender bender, a little old lady that fell down and broke her hip. A woman going into labor at a park. A lost child that wasn’t actually lost. A Christmas tree fire. Then, another one. What Buck liked was having Tommy near him, how they worked together side by side and sat in the truck together on the way to and from calls. 

It was so wildly different from the week when Tommy had been avoiding him and Buck loved it. He might not be able to be openly affectionate because they were at work, but they could share glances and casual touch and it meant everything. 

They had a nice dinner. Bobby had gone a little more fancy because it was Christmas Eve. Hen had helped by taking care of the salad, and Buck had been in charge of the mashed potatoes while Bobby took care of the roast. By some stroke of luck they managed to actually sit down and eat it without interruptions. 

“This is probably the best Christmas I’ve had in a while,” Buck said halfway through. 

It felt like an actual family Christmas, the type that didn’t really happen for Buck, not even when he’d lived with his parents especially after Maddie left. Christmas had meant being out of school and his parents, as teachers, being home too. Buck had tried to stay out of the house as much as possible. 

Across from him Tommy made a face. “I don’t know if that’s sad or not.” 

“Both,” Hen said. “I mean, Bobby’s cooking can make any Christmas good.”

“You got that right,” Chim said. 

“I’m just glad you’re all appreciating our Christmas dinner even if we all have to be at work today.” 

“Well, I don’t think Buck is wrong,” Tommy said. “This has been a good Christmas. One of the better ones for sure.”

Buck tried to avert his gaze from Tommy’s, but when he did look up he found Tommy’s eyes and he couldn’t help but smile. He ducked his head again before anyone could notice. He felt Tommy’s foot tap his under the table. Buck wished that he could ask Tommy to join him in the bathroom or in another secluded spot in the fire station so he could steal a kiss if nothing else. 

He was almost glad when the next call came right as they were starting to clear up after dinner especially when he wound up sitting next to Tommy and he could touch him even if minimally. 

-

Tommy had always been good at falling asleep almost anywhere, he was also easy to wake, so he heard when Evan got out of his bed and then felt it when Evan lifted his blanket and climbed into his. 

“Ev—”

Evan was sleep warm and soft. He kissed his name off of Tommy’s lips and Tommy could do nothing but respond to it, kissing back because it was Evan and he would never deny Evan. 

“Missed that,” Evan said against his lips. 

They kissed again and then Evan dropped his head to Tommy’s shoulder, letting out a content sigh. 

“You need to go back to your own bed,” Tommy whispered. 

Evan nuzzled into him. “I know. Five minutes.” 

Tommy knew more than five minutes passed, but he didn’t urge Evan to go. Instead he held him and ran his fingers through Evan’s hair. Kissed the top of it. Tommy tried not to drift off, but Evan was a happy weight atop him and he smelled good and it wasn’t difficult to be a little selfish and want to keep him there. Eventually, he did just drift off, arms pulling Evan closer to him. 

The next thing Tommy knew was Chim’s voice. 

“Holy shit. Guys, guys, come here.”

Hen’s incredulous laughter followed. 

“What’s happening?” Bobby asked, followed by an, “oh.” 

He blinked awake, felt the weight on him, the way that his legs were tangled with someone’s. Evan’s. Evan made a snuffling sound and he had definitely drooled on Tommy’s sleep shirt. Tommy froze when he looked at Hen, Chim, and Bobby who were all peering at them with big smiles. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“Tommy,” Evan said, voice rough from sleep. “I think we fell asleep. What time—” he froze and Tommy knew he’d opened his eyes and spotted their audience. 

Evan made no move to get out of Tommy’s bed and Tommy didn’t really know what to say or do. He was grateful when Hen coughed. 

“We’re going to go,” Hen said. 

“Yeah, but what—” 

Hen tugged Chim away. 

“I think we’ll have to have a conversation later,” Bobby said, but he didn’t look upset or concerned, just mostly amused.

“Yes,” Tommy said. “We will.” 

Bobby left and Tommy let out a breath. He had no idea how Evan was handling it and he hoped it wouldn’t put them two steps back on where they’d been just a few hours ago when Evan had decided to get into his bed with him. He hardly expected Evan to start laughing. He was giggling, shaking against Tommy because he couldn’t contain it. 

“Evan,” Tommy said, carefully.

Evan took a few breaths and he sat up, facing Tommy. “I didn’t think I’d be able to keep it secret for very long, it’s just as well they found out now. Is that…is that alright?” 

“You’re alright with it?” 

“I am,” Evan said. “I mean it’s too late now, but it saves having to tell them. I don’t mind. Come on, they’re probably gossiping about us.” 

“Bobby doesn’t gossip,” Tommy said. 

Evan fixed him with a look. “He walks a careful line, but he gossips.” 

-

Buck was glad in the end to have everything out in the open. It meant that when they did the Secret Santa presents at the end of their shift, he could sit next to Tommy closer than would be appropriate and hold his hand. Breakfast had been a little awkward admittedly, but it seemed like Hen had explained some of what she knew. Chim had given them both pats on the back and Bobby had given them smiles and a reminder that they’d need to have a bigger conversation on their next shift. 

Buck expected there to be more questions and he was sure eventually there would be, but for the time they were just letting Buck and Tommy be. 

“I’ll begin,” Hen said and dug around for the present she’d brought in. “I got you, Cap.” 

She handed him a box wrapped in red wrapping paper. 

“Thank you, Hen,” Bobby said. “Uh, do I open it? Or are we waiting until everyone has theirs?” 

“You can open it,” Hen said.

“I wonder how this goes down with Denny,” Buck whispered to Tommy. 

Tommy shrugged his shoulders. “I imagine not like this.” 

Bobby’s gift turned out to be a very nice fire engine red dutch oven. Bobby seemed pleased with it and he smiled at Hen appreciatively before he went to fetch his own gift. Bobby had gotten Chim and he handed him a gift bag. Out of it came a very nice looking sweater and along with it a wallet. 

“Yours has been looking a bit worn out,” Bobby explained. 

“I’ll transfer everything over right away. Thanks, Bobby.” 

Chim’s present was for Hen. Hen took the bag with care and reached inside. First there was a stuffed hen that made Hen roll her eyes, but following that was a skincare set that had Hen raise her eyebrows. 

“Have you been talking to Karen?” 

“Nope,” Chim said. 

“I guess that means you’re up, Tommy,” Hen said. 

Buck let go of his hand and Tommy grabbed a bigger bag than the one Buck had seen the day before. “I was originally going to tell you not to open all of it, but since everyone knows now I guess it doesn’t really matter.” 

They had gotten each other. Buck hadn’t expected that. He grinned at Tommy and their fingers brushed when Tommy passed him the bag. Everything inside was wrapped except for one thing that had a bit of tissue paper covering it. It was a frame and when Buck withdrew it, he gasped. 

The drawing was of him. He had his firefighter helmet on and he was looking off to the side. It was amazing. 

“Wow,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Chim said, looking over Buck’s shoulder. “Who drew that?” 

“Tommy did,” Buck said. “This is amazing.” 

“I don’t think it does you justice.” 

Buck felt his cheeks go warm. 

“There’s more,” Tommy said. 

The next thing was wrapped in silver and green wrapping paper. When he tore it off he found a cardboard box. Inside was a carved wooden dog with a firefighter helmet. Buck didn’t remember seeing that piece, but he did remember the wood carver they’d seen at the Christmas Market. 

“That’s really nice too,” Hen said. “Did you make that too, Tommy?” 

“Oh. No. Definitely not.” 

The next thing was a mug that really did declare to the world that Buck was bisexual. He loved it and planned on drinking from it as often as possible. And last there were two books that Buck would definitely be picking up and flipping through later. 

“Thank you,” he said to Tommy. “I loved every part of it. And now, it’s your turn to open yours.” 

Tommy smiled. “Bring it on.” 

Buck watched him unwrap each of the presents. The box of chocolates got a grin from him and he seemed to appreciate the sketch books, but the colored pencils got a bigger reaction. 

“I’ve been looking at these for a while,” he admitted. “Didn’t know if I should get them. Thank you. How’d you—”

“Good guess,” Buck said. “But you like them?” 

“Yes. Definitely. Thank you, Evan.” 

Buck leaned over to him and as low as he could say it, muttered, “this isn’t the only thing you’re getting for Christmas.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said, warning in his tone. 

“I don’t know if I like this,” Chim said pointing at them. “You’re too buddy buddy now. It’s not normal.”

“That sounds homophobic,” Buck said at once and turned to Tommy. “Does that sound homophobic to you, Tommy?” 

Chim looked from Tommy to Buck and then to Hen. “I’m feeling a little outnumbered here.” 

“Don’t worry, Chim,” Tommy said, “you’ve always got Bobby on your team.” 

-

Tommy couldn’t have guessed that Evan had had him for the Secret Santa. He wondered if Hen knew what she had done for them and how without it, he wouldn’t be walking out of the firestation with Evan, arms brushing against each other but too full with their duffles and Christmas presents to manage to also hold hands. 

After putting his things in his truck, Tommy turned to Evan. 

“Did you really like what I got you?” Evan asked. “I mean, buying an artist colored pencils and sketchbooks is kind of a copout.” 

“I got everything I wanted, Evan,” Tommy said and he grabbed Evan’s hands, drawing him in. “I got you, didn’t I?” 

Evan groaned. “That was cheesy, Tommy. So cheesy.” 

“But true,” Tommy said and he leaned in and kissed Evan. 

Evan melted into him, clutched at Tommy and kissed him back. 

[sunfloweraro]

Writing requests! Anything that involves Legend getting tickled by Wild, really. (Or the other way around!) 🤭 Perhaps Wild wants to try giving Legend a massage like he’s had done in Gerudo town… only to find out having had it done for him before does not mean he’ll be good at giving one? 😆

Thank you for the request! The silliness is perfect. I decided to combine all elements of your request and have Wild trying to give Legend a massage to help him relax, only to discover Legend is extremely ticklish. Legend gets his revenge >:)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Wild insisted. “I know what I’m doing.” To a degree, at least, but Legend didn’t need to know that. He was meant to be relaxing, after all. And Wild had had a dozen massages in Gerudo Town before, knew his session like the back of his hand. How difficult could it be to replicate?

Legend hummed, still uncertain. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not that—”

“You snapped at Wind earlier. Wind. He was just checking in on you.”

Legend offered no answer, though his face fell. “Right… I still owe him an apology.”

“And you can give it later. Wind understands. Now relax already and lie down. This will help, I promise.”

Legend breathed a sigh, but acquiesced, settling down on his front, head resting over folded arms. “Fine. If only to stop your incessant whining.”

“I’ll let that slide because I know you’re stressed. And you’re meant to let your arms hang, otherwise your back will be tense.”

“Tenser than it already is?”

“Legend.”

“Fine, fine.” Legend shifted so his arms now hung from the edges of the makeshift massage table Wild had set up—a few quilts spread out over Time and Malon’s dining room table.

“Good. Now just relax and let me take care of you. The goddesses know you need it.”

Another sigh from Legend, and he began to relax into the quilts. Giving his trust to Wild. Where he would normally take the opportunity to tease their Veteran, today he let him be, knowing doing so would only make Legend more tense.

“Okay. This will be warm,” he warned, before grabbing the saucer of scented oil, heated by Hyrule’s magic earlier, before Wild shoved everyone else out of the room. He dimmed the lantern alongside it, hoping Legend might drift off while he worked and get some proper rest. He always looked so exhausted these days, and sleep would do him good. Carefully, he poured a little of the oil over Legend’s back, lips twisting when his friend stiffened. “Relax.”

Legend grumbled something to himself that Wild didn’t bother trying to process. He shoved his sleeves back and set to work massaging the oil into Legend’s terribly stiff back. At the touch, Legend stiffened, holding his breath, and Wild rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how you intend to relax like that,” he grumbled. Legend said nothing, letting out a shuddering breath instead.

Wild continued to work the warm oil into Legend’s back, turning his attention to his shoulders when he felt how tense the muscles were there. “Breathe,” he had to insist several times, only to be met with a shuddering breath, before Legend tensed up all over again.

As he was working the tension from Legend’s lower back, pressing down and gliding to the side as his masseuse did for him, an odd, choked sound escaped Legend. Wild paused. “Everything okay?”

A shuddering inhale. “Fine.”

Wild took him at his word, continuing, only for Legend to flinch away from his touch, that same choked sound escaping him, muffled this time. “Vet?”

“It’s—fine. I’m fine.”

A third time, Wild attempted the action. This time, Legend failed to stifle the giggle that escaped him as he flinched away from Wild’s touch.

A devious idea formed in Wild’s mind. Something that would help relax his friend faster. “Hey, Vet?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sorry about this.” And then he attacked. Legend’s sides seemed the most sensitive, though he had been stiff and trying not to laugh the entire massage, Wild now realised. A shriek escaped Legend as Wild attacked his left side, and he tried to jump away. Wild latched onto his waist, held him close as he tickled with a fervour he hadn’t felt since he was a child, a similar delight sparkling within his insides, golden and warm.

“No! Stop!” Legend begged, breathless as he laughed. His eyes were crinkled in a way Wild had never seem them before, laughter making him look closer to his young age. “Please!” Wild ignored him, attacking his other side and tearing another shriek from Legend as he tried to flinch away, peals of laughter escaping his friend—and were those tears?

“Relaxed yet, Vet?” Wild asked, a menacing smirk lifting his lips. A little longer, then he would free his friend.

Except he faltered as he spoke, and Legend wasted no time in pouncing on him. The breath was knocked from his lungs as he fell to the floor. Legend was quick to straddle him, still laughing and teary and gasping for breath, though the glint to his eyes promised nothing good. He locked Wild’s arms above his head with one hand, power bracelet glinting in the low light.

Wild gulped. “Vet, we can talk about this.”

“No—no need to,” Legend panted, and then it was Wild’s turn to suffer. Wild wasn’t nearly as sensitive as Legend, but anyone would burst into laughter when a feather was suddenly pressed to their too-sensitive armpit and twisted every which way.

A high shriek escaped him, and then he was laughing. He bucked, tried to kick his way out, but Legend held fast, revenge giving him inhuman strength. “N—no, please!” Wild begged between peals of laughter.

Legend smirked, teeth and all, and attacked his other armpit with the feather. Wild laughed harder, could barely breathe as teared streaked down his face. “Say you’re sorry.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Truce, please.”

“That’ll teach you,” Legend grumbled, though the smirk on his face remained. He shifted back, offered Wild a hand and helped him to his feet. He tossed the cucco feather aside, and Wild kicked it away as he swiped at his still-streaming eyes, taking in gasping breaths as he tried to collect himself.

A beat passed between then, where Legend looked far too smug and more relaxed than he had been in months. Despite his suffering, Wild couldn’t help but smile at the job well-done.

“Feeling better?” he asked, giving Legend a knowing look.

Legend rolled his eyes, if only for show. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime, Vet. But… Perhaps not like this next time. I don’t think my heart can take that again.”

The menacing grin Legend gave him in turn made Wild’s blood run cold, and he knew he would be sleeping with a knife for the months to come.

[engagemythrusters]

evidently controversial take: i don't mind if people get botox. yes, even if it's to alter their face to fit some beauty standard. why? cause if botox is easy to get, that means that I, a disabled person whose quality of life could be drastically improved by botox, won't have to jump through the hoops i jump through on a regular basis to get help i need.

[megatraven]

I’m going to kill someone and it won’t be me

[blindedguilt]

//Was thinking about posting this on my alt, but since I figure I've spoken about this frequently enough on this blog and it's THE dedicated Leonard Space™️... //I'm throwing up and crying thinking about how leonard had never gotten to experience romantic or sexual attraction (or will ever GET to experience those things, unrequited or not) without complete dread and self-blame and guilt and how that must have been growing up with the hope and expectations of "Being in love must be so nice, I hope I'll be able feel that one day" and not ONLY having that hope gradually dwindle as he grew into the "expected marriageable age" watching those around him go on with their lives and attain those things in a way that seems so natural but is so foreign to him and the absolute sadness of the point the notion of "attraction" and "falling in love" turned to complete and abject horror and disgust when he realises that this is what his mind has decided is "Normal" for him, and all possibilities and aspirations he may have had of a child, teen, young adult, etc. up to that point of even the bare minimum is now a complete impossibility. //how it fully sets in he'll never experience love. never find his own family or someone to be interested in and care about in such a way or even feel attraction without that weight attached.... like idc, actual relationships are one thing but if ANYTHING you should at least be able to know the joy of falling in love if even for a SECOND without any strings (Disgust, guilt, self-hate, etc.) attached!!!! guys!!!!!!! //HE'S WAY TOO KIND AND GENTLE AND HANDSOME AND CARING AND HUMBLE AND A GENTLEMAN AND HANDSOME AND HIS VOICE IS WAY TOO SEXY FOR THIS SHIT, HE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS!!!!! LET HIM LOVE!!!!!!! HE'S SHOWN TO HAVE SO MUCH TO GIVE IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS (Parental, familial, just being an empathetic person towards his "enemies" in general) AND YET HE DIES HAVING NEVER KNOWN IT...... WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HIM........... ouuugughhh.........

[tardis--dreams]

Gotta talk to the department boss tomorrow because i asked for opportunities to increase my work hours. I regret it already but i can't back out now so this is gonna be fun (:

[trianglegoddess]

I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face. 

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word. 

And then they got invaded by Darkseid. 

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had. 

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members. 

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost. 

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now. 

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there. 

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth. 

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it. 

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!” 

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer. 

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.  

Instead he wails. 

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces. 

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise. 

It’s mourning. 

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left. 

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that. 

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win. 

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose. 

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up. 

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend. 

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched. 

Even as he stares Death in the eye. 

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail. 

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself. 

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face. 

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension. 

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all. 

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off. 

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price. 

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet. 

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[selvepnea]

Feeling. Weird...

[giamee]

𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 '𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐓!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🍭 )

he just can't get enough of your pussy !

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | 🚨🚨🚨SMUT !! (f!reader receiving oral & fingering), uhhh pussydrunk hsr men who are MUNCHES <3, i think this is the first time writing smut on this blog so hereee we gooo, uhh clit slapping (only once thanks blade), overstim, nothin toooo crazy, ever so slight dom!reader for sampo (that man needs to get topped so bad) + you call him a pervert idk, squirting (shoutout luocha 😙)

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN AGESSSS SO PLS BE NICE AND TO MY MUTUALS SORRY THT THIS SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASHBOARD LETS STILL BE FRIENDS PLS 😭

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 JING YUAN.

this is a dangerous game when he's involved

as a general, jing yuan is very accustomed to being in charge, of taking charge and ensuring that things happen

and as a man who cares more about the hours outside of his work than during, who can blame him for wanting to commemorate each time that he comes home to you?

he's always been very giving as a lover, that much is true. and as a man with a tendency to be more on the... spontaneous side, you were no stranger to a quickie in a slightly less than convenient location. he just couldn't bear to leave you uncared for, after all.

so really, you should have expected that he would quite literally stoop to this level. one minute he was walking through the front door, you calling out a greeting to him from the sink as you washed some dishes.

and the next minute, he was on his knees behind you, your skirt flipped up over your hips and panties tugged to the side as he began to eat you out with some type of renewed fervour.

it had you slapping one hand over your mouth, the other white-knuckled as you hold on for dear life to the kitchen counter. your legs were very quickly turning to jelly due to his ministrations, the feeling of his tongue fucking into you rendering you unable to form sentences.

and even worse than the sensation was the sound of it- every lick and slurp reverbating through the empty room, every squelch of your pussy making you go a shade darker as jing yuan moaned, the bastard, and delved even further into your pussy. your hips pushed against him, his hands snaking their way around your thighs to keep you pinned in place while he ate you out like his life depended on it.

you bit back a squeal as you felt his tongue flick against your clit before running back through your folds, circling the hole before fucking back into you.

"fuck, i love this pussy so much," he moaned out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he came up for air momentarily. "love comin' home to you every day- you taste so good, so good f'me-"

any attempts at muffling your noises were extinguished as you let out a sob, tears welling up from the pleasure, making you fold over so that your torso rested against the counter. your legs were spread wide by now, giving jing yuan all the access that he needed.

he relinquished one of your thighs in favour of using his fingers to pump into you, curling them just right against that spongy spot that had you shaking like a leaf, feeling the pressure build inside you much quicker than you anticipated.

"fuck- fuck- i can't, 's so good-" you were babbling now, trying in vain to break free or push his head away, the pleasure bordering on too much. it was comically easy how ineffective your attempts to hinder him were,

"you can." his voice was some soothing reprieve, and the warmth of his hands squeezing against your hips helped to ground you as he otherwise brought you to the edge.

your thighs were trembling, barely supporting your weight and you could feel your release fast approaching, though something was holding you back.

"cum f'me." jing yuan's rasped voice is what finally coaxed you to let go, to let that string snap with a final cry as you collapsed fully against the countertop.

always diligent, jing yuan continued to eat you out, making sure not to miss a drop as you spasmed against him, hips finally stilling after you ride out your high.

"bastard." your voice is muffled, head resting on your forearms as your regain your strength. jing yuan merely chuckles, placing a kiss with his wet lips to your inner thigh again, one last jolt of pleasure running through you before he stands, fixing your clothes for you.

"but you love it."

you give him a halfhearted kick in the shin.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 SAMPO.

he's the type of man who's best in small doses

the amount of times you get annoyed while he's on another tangent or trying to scam you sell you a product is..... a bit more than infrequent

but there's ways around that

"sampo, do you ever shut up?"

ironically enough, you asking him that made him do just that, pausing for a second to lick his lips as his smile widened, cheshire-like, as you watched the cogs turn in his head.

"no, but for a small standalone price-"

if youuu put a buck in my cup i will shut the fuck up (sorry)

"sampo."

the man cackles, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to his side.

"sorry, doll, but a man has to make a living somehow."

you turn to glare at him now. you really weren't in the mood.

"either shut up or i'll make you."

you watch as his smile drops for just a second, his pupils dilating ever so slightly at the underlying hint of what's to come. and bless his heart, the man decided to push his luck.

approximately five minutes later, you were grinding on his face. the only noises that he really made now were occasional grunts and moans as you rocked back and forth, and you decided that you liked him much better when he wasn't talking.

the man with a silver tongue had his uses, after all.

he was so eager to please, too- from what you could tell with the way he was eating you out. if it weren't for the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling, you would be convinced that he was enjoying it more than you. his moans reverberated around your clit as his tongue flicked over and sucked it, leaving you keeling over and your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

every moan you let out had him eating you out with a renewed fervour, almost desperate for you to reach your high. you let your hand snake into his hair, getting a full handful before yanking on it, hard. sampo whines from the sensation, and you almost miss the muffled plea for you to do it "again".

his fingertips are digging into your thighs almost painfully, keeping you seated firmly against him (not that you were going to move, anyway).

your eyes land on the tent in his boxers, and an idea pops into your head as you snake your hand past his abdomen to pull his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. it looked painfully hard, the tip already leaking pearls of precum, and you spat in your hand before starting to jerk him off, ever so slowly.

he whined again at the pressure, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand, desperate for any sort of friction.

"you're getting off to this, you pervert?" you laughed as he shook his head desperately, still plunging his tongue deep inside you even as his hips bucked wildly. he was already so close, it almost made you laugh.

you yourself were beginning to feel the coil deep within you start to tighten, a telltale sign that your own orgasm was approaching.

"so if i were to just... stop, you wouldn't mind?" to emphasise your point, you loosened your grip on him, grinning to yourself as he whined pathetically.

"hm... that's what i thought."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 BLADE.

blade's mean when he eats you out

he's one of those who eats it for his own pleasure, and whether it's until you orgasm once or multiple times, he's not stopping until he's satisfied, overstimulation be damned

"you still alive there?" the man between your thighs snickers at your fucked-out state, not even able to form a sentence to answer him.

how many times had he made you cum by now? six? seven? you'd lost count long ago, and you don't think it mattered much to blade. sometime after the second one, it began to dawn on you that his goal wasn't to simply make you cum then call it a day.

"c'mon, eyes on me." you squeal at the sensation of his hand slapping down against your clit, the raw flesh stinging for a few moments before his hand smooths it over, soothing the skin.

"you can handle one more, right?" you lift your head weakly to meet his ravenous eyes, somehow even hungrier than when he had first started peeling your clothes off. the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your skin, and you gave him a sheepish nod.

"attagirl."

blade's one to keep you on your toes, never knowing just what to expect from him. he ducks his head down, leveling it with your still pulsing hole, and you gasp as you hear, then feel him spit on it.

there's a blunt intrusion as he sinks two of his fingers into you, knuckles deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot inside you. your leg twitches as an automatic response, making the man snicker again.

"you're so sensitive," he coos, and you hide your embarrassed face with your arm. "i bet if i just..." your body seizes up as you cum, again, more sudden than you ever expected as blade presses harder against you. a strangled moan flies out of your mouth, writhing at the pressure.

he's nice enough to let you ride out your high, pathetically grinding your clit against his palm, whimpering at the tenfold sensitivity and the little aftershocks wracking your body.

and when you're finally breathing normally again, you hear his voice break you out of your stupor.

"one more?"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

what he lacks in experience is made up for doubly in enthusiasm

because let's be real, this man is too busy with the silvermane guards to have enough time to be dating and fucking around

but for you? he'd make the time. and he'd learn how to get you off while he's at it, too

"so if you just, slide your fingers in, slowly." gepard follows your instructions dutifully, and even then you still winced at the feeling of his large fingers stretching you out, the slightest of burns already kicking in.

"like this?" he looks up at you, all puppy dog eyes, so eager to learn. his face was too innocent for what he was doing.

"mhmm." you smile down at him, his face rested against one of your thighs as his gaze returns to your cunt, glued to the way it stretches around his digits. he feels you pulse against him and he shudders, trying to hold back for your sake. he was here to learn what you liked, after all.

"and then you kind of... curl them a bit? and move them too." his ministrations are soft to begin with, and even there's still an unmistakeable squelch each time he pumps his fingers into you, the lewdness of it all making him turn pink.

"does that feel good?"

"y-yeah, so good, baby."

he's so close to your pussy, you can feel each time he breathes, his little pants hitting your clit, making you even wetter. the anticipation of it all had you practically squirming where you lay propped up on your elbows, watching him.

his eyes are still transfixed on you, mouth hanging open at the way your hips rolled ever so slightly, meeting each of his shallow thrusts.

"you see that bit above? if you lick it, it'll feel really good f'me." gepard nods, all too eagerly leaning forward, licking a thick stripe from your hole to the clit with his tongue, before starting to flick his tongue against it gingerly.

"yeah, fuck, you're good at this." he hums against you, starting to move his tongue with a little more fervour, his hand still pumping into you. he always had been a fast learner.

he settles into a rhythm, one that has you steadily building the pressure in your core, soft moans escaping your lips.

"just like that, fuuuck," you pant out, letting your head roll back and your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling. it's then when gepard decides to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking ever so deliciously to make your toes curl.

you let out a particularly loud moan at the sensation, one that your ever so perceptive boyfriend latches onto, increasing the pressure in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"geppie m'gonna cum- don't stop-" he obeys your every word, slurping at your cunt with a hunger that sends you over the edge. you convulse, hips raising off of the mattress to buck against his face, his fingers curling around your quaking thighs.

"use my face, darling," he murmurs into you, so eager to please. the way the ridge of his nose bumps against your clit helps you ride out your high, grinding against his mouth a few more times before you finally flop back down against, the bed, limbs turning to jelly.

"no fucking way that was your first time eating someone out." gepard merely grins, wiping some of your juices off of his face before crawling up the bed to meet you.

"'m sure it was, now give me a kiss."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 LUOCHA.

your life will be CHANGED after this man eats u out for the first time i just know it

like.. he's got skills. he's a certified munch i know this in my SOULLLLL

"just relax, honey, let me take care of you." his velveteen voice is what has you finally lying back, letting the tension in your body leave you as his nimble fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, sliding them off of your legs ever so tantalisingly.

he groans at the string of slick that stays connected to them- no surprises there as you had been sat on his lap kissing him for the past half an hour- and you covered your face in embarrassment.

"don't go shy on me now, hm?" you peek between your fingers, catching the glint of his emerald eyes, the way his smile widens when he makes eye contact with you from his place between your legs.

"hi, pretty."

"hi."

"we can go as slow as you want, okay? tell me what you're comfortable with." luocha's thumbs rub gentle circles into your thighs, coaxing you to open them and let him settle more comfortably.

"do you want me to touch you?" you nod, watching as luocha's smirks almost imperceptibly.

"use your words, darling." you whine, kicking at him lightly.

"quit teasing me."

"do you want my fingers or my tongue?"

"luocha!" he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

"i'm sorry, love, you're just so cute when you're flustered." he presses another kiss to your thigh now, lips inching upwards ever so slowly, holding himself back as he waits for your go-ahead.

"could you... eat me out?" your face feels so warm just from asking the question, but the nerves are quelled as luocha smiles brightly, shifting his weight on his hips to lower himself down closer to you.

"gladly."

there's a few seconds of anticipation, of his breath hitting your core before another entirely new sensation- something wet and muscled sliding against you as luocha licks a flat stripe through your slit. his tongue sharpens, flicking against your clit as he pulls away after his experimental first taste.

you're already feeling something inside you coil in anticipation, and it tightens even more at the blissed out expression on luocha's face.

"you taste divine, my love."

and then he's delving in for more. your usually so composed boyfriend lying flat on his stomach, buried facefirst in your pussy and eating it like a man starved.

the slurping and squelching noises are obscene, echoing off of the walls and filling up the room along with your wails and moans. your head was in the clouds right now, too fucked out to even scream his name. and he hadn't even put his tongue in yet.

as if reading your mind, luocha finally shifts his attention to your hole, his tongue circling it, teasing it open, before he plunges in along with his fingers, the size of them and his fingertips grazing against your g spot bringing you to the verge of tears.

everything just felt so good, and he was going to make you cum hard and fast.

the regular pressure of an impeding orgasm kept building up, more than it regularly would, until it became an entirely new sensation altogether.

"w-wait, baby, i'm gonna pee or something-"

luocha pauses, pupils blown wide with lust as he meets your gaze.

"you're not, honey, just trust me, alright?"

and because it's him, because you'd do just about anything for him right now if it meant continuing to feel this good, you lie back down, feeling him bring you back to that point again.

his fingers are drilling into you at an almost inhuman pace, the sound enough to make you cum, let alone the sensation. his soft lips suction around your clit, warm tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you squeal and throw your head back.

"'m gonna-" luocha nods encouragingly, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has your vision go white as you writhe in ecstasy. there's an odd feeling, of something shooting out of you, and you look down to see a spray of clear liquid. luocha's fingers rub against your pusy frantically, making you writhe again, prolonging your orgasm as he milks you for every last drop.

you finally come back down to earth, vaguely feeling a warm wet cloth wipe away at you, at the mess you had made.

and luocha's gazing at you with nothing but adoration, a pussydrunk smile on his lips.

"aren't you glad you trusted me, love?"

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist