#couch fic

[liesyousoldme]

i've been waiting til i see it in your eyes

[Buddie | 3224 words | rated T | spoilers for 6x01]

One minute he’s playing Boggle with his kid and the next Buck is making a metaphor about couches and looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters. It’s… it’s a lot, and Eddie knows he must be bright red because his face is hot, but Buck just keeps looking at him like it’s not five seconds away from sending Eddie into cardiac arrest. 

Somehow, he manages to sound completely normal when he says, "maybe that's how Bobby feels about interim captain."

Buck doesn't say anything back, but the conversation doesn't leave Eddie's mind easily. Not even just the words and the meaning hidden behind them - it was the way Buck looked at him. It was like…

It was like the way Eddie himself looked at Buck.

And isn't that a revelation to have over lasagna. 

The conversation breezes through how great the food is to telling Chris about some of their most recent kid-friendly rescue stories. Then Chris starts talking about the history project he just got assigned, how he has to research a famous figure in U.S. history and how he's got no idea who he's going to pick, but Miss Robins is going to give them a "really really long list" to choose from if they can't come up with their own by Friday.

And Eddie is listening to his kid. He really, genuinely is. But he's also watching Buck, who, about halfway through Chris' monologue about all the different ways people can be famous and how is he supposed to even choose a category much less a person, looks back with eyes that Eddie's scrambled brain can only describe as fond. He quietly clears his throat, looks down at his plate, then looks back up. Buck is still looking at him, this open and vulnerable expression that makes Eddie's breath hitch in his chest. He turns to look at Christopher because he thinks he might spontaneously combust into flames if he keeps looking at Buck while Buck's looking at him like that. Chris is winding down, debating with himself the merits of actors versus presidents and Eddie finds himself glancing back over at Buck, who catches his eye once more, then looks down at his own plate and smiles, his cheeks red.

And what the fuck is Eddie supposed to do with that?

They finish dinner quickly and Eddie offers to do the dishes and Buck says he'll dry so they end up standing side by side at the sink, and if Eddie takes a little longer with each dish than he normally would then that's his business and his business alone.

Chris complains about Buck's lack of couch again when he goes to the living room to watch television, and Eddie can feel Buck sigh from how their shoulders are pressed together. He mindlessly scrubs at an already clean plate and glances over at his best friend, who is vigorously drying the dish he made the lasagna in and biting his lip. There's a beat of silence and then Buck turns, just enough so that he can make eye contact with Eddie and his voice will still carry over his shoulder to Chris.

"Like I said," Buck says, and Eddie's heart is in his throat. "I don't want to pick the wrong couch."

continue on ao3

[frownyalfred]

I love all the headcanons about the batkids reaching certain ages and realizing how insane it was that Bruce did (thing) at that age, but I ESPECIALLY love the image of a mid-forties Jason landing a little too hard after his last grappling line and realizing that, holy shit, Bruce’s knees must have been splintering at this point. AND he had a broken back??

[turtleinsoup]

@thedawningofthehour

drawing for profile in quicksilver

[flowercrowngods]

It's unreal. The light is streaming in through the windows, the curtains still drawn to block out the midday heat, tinging their living room in golden hues that match so well with the light grey fabric of their new sofa.

Eddie should probably snap out of it and head over to the windows, open the curtains and let the light in, and with it the warmth and fresh air of a surprisingly wonderful day.

It's March, he hears the echoes of Steve's giddy voice a week or two ago. Everything's better in March.

Eddie didn't agree then, and he's not sure he agrees now, but he must admit there is something magical about this moment.

Still he remains rooted to the spot, leather jacket heavy on his shoulders, his hands hidden in the sleeves of it, just in case this really is a dream. Just in case someone will come in and snap him out of it, take away their couch and leave an eviction notice.

It's dumb. But Eddie doesn't deal well with things that are unreal. Things that he knows aren't meant for him. Things that he knows he only gets in this one play-through of his life, while millions of other Eddie Munsons are out there in parallel universes who never get to even lay eyes upon a couch this nice. Let alone buy it. From their own real adult money.

It's a corner sofa, the fabric light grey, and he remembers it being harder than it looks. Solid. Just perfect for both their fucked up backs, scar tissue pulling if they sit wrong for too long, phantom pain and muscle aches coming in hot when all they want is to just relax and enjoy a lazy evening.

Eddie bites his lip, trailing his eyes along the pristine fabric, the pillows lining the back of it, the flawless stitches keeping everything in shape.

They have a couch now. A sofa.

It's so fucking unreal.

He drops to the floor right then and there, sitting with his back against the wall, and never once taking his eyes off their sofa. It feels important to look at it for a while. It feels important to wait for Steve. It feels... It feels like maybe he'll ruin everything if he goes and sits on it now.

And it feels really fucking big.

At some point he hears the front door opening, their lock going so smoothly now that Steve fixed it with some graphite, and the sound makes Eddie smile. That's another thing that's unreal. The key barely making any noise, the lock not rattling, the door not creaking and cracking. Eddie pulls a strand of hair between his lips, the smile feeling too silly for this room, for this home, for everything he gets to have now.

For all the tiny things that matter now. All the tiny things he gets to have, turning the key's smooth slide into an allegory of everything he ever wanted but never dared to hope for.

The slide of curtains, the click-click-click of the window handle being turned to let the air in. The breeze of fresh spring air dancing around his nose.

It's all a little much. It's so fucking addicting.

And then Steve. Socked feet coming to a stop beside him, a hand landing in his hair, a voice that's so endlessly warm and fond and maybe a little worried sounding from above him, "Hi, angel."

"Hi," Eddie says, tearing his eyes away from their couch to meet Steve's. The sunlight from the windows hugs him, making him glow. Eddie smiles. He smiles and smiles and never wants to stop.

Steve hums as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie weaves his arm through Steve's legs, holding onto his knee.

Everything feels a little less silly now. Like every time Steve doesn't question his little moments of sitting on the floor and just staring at things.

"We have a couch now," Eddie says, because it feels important to point out. Because Steve isn't looking at it.

"We do," he hums. "I got the call earlier. Thanks for helping with that, baby."

Eddie nods again, leaning his cheek against Steve's knee and trailing the couch again with his eyes. It looks brighter now that the curtains don't turn the room into something out of a sepia-type movie anymore.

Steve's hands comb through his hair, massaging his scalp a little with his nails. It's nice. It's warm. It's pretty.

And it's so unreal.

"I'm twenty-four," Eddie says then, and some part of him wants to carve that into the fabric. He won't. But maybe he should carve it somewhere else. "And I own a couch. It's a little crazy."

Steve comes to sit down beside him, their shoulders pressed together and he links their hands, resting them in his lap after a brushes a kiss to Eddie's knuckles.

"Why's it crazy, angel?"

He shrugs, resting his head on Steve's shoulders and curling into his warmth some more.

"Most of my life I never thought either of those would happen, y'know."

Another hum, followed by another kiss to the crown of his head. Another smile.

"But you did it," Steve whispers. "You made it. And we've got a couch now."

"We've got a couch now."

Saying it out loud doesn't make it feel any realer. It only makes his heart race and his eyes prick.

"I love you," he says, finally looking away from pretty grey fabric to meet prettier hazel eyes. "I love you so much."

Steve leans in, kissing the tip of his nose. "I love you. Thank you for buying a couch with me."

And it occurs to Eddie then that Steve understands him. Sitting there on the floor with him, hearing his words and listening to those unsaid, understanding Eddie on such a fundamental level that it should be scary. And it is, sometimes.

But he's not scared now. Because they have a couch. And they have pretty curtains that keep the light outside and still turn the room into something magical. And they have a lock that only needed a bit of graphite to let the keys glide smoothly.

And they have each other.

They stay on the floor until Steve's stomach growls, and they eat dinner with their backs against the couch and Eddie's feet in Steve's lap. They hold each other close after dinner, just breathing each other in as the breeze blows around them.

In the end, Eddie is the first to sit on the couch, with Steve standing between his legs and giving him a scalp massage in silence. In the end, Eddie buries his face in Steve's stomach to hide the tears, and Steve lets him.

Because this is real. And he gets to have this. They both do.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid@hotluncheddie @gutterflower77@auroraplume@steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important@stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround@pukner@i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic@bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[beom9yus]

dare - choi soobin x reader

: soobin x genderless reader

: oral-soobin receiving, cum eating?tasting? pretty much it

: 2k words - just simply wanted to write about sucking him off LOL

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You stare at your friend who was laying down on the hospital room bed. He’s looking away with a cute bunny pout as you laugh in his face. “How did you-how did you manage to break both your wrists and parts of your fingers?” You start shaking as you bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back from laughing in his face. You feel your cheekbones plump up from smiling, not being strong or mature enough to have a serious face.

His hands that are in casts almost all the way up to his elbows, are currently on the side of his body, one hand being mostly free, casted from his lower palm downwards. Meanwhile the right was entirely sculpted in a cast. Sadly for Soobin, you couldn’t help but guffaw. It was too funny. He’s annoyed now, raising his upper body up to quietly yell at you. He furrows his brows as he tells you, “Stop. It’s not even that funny. Hyuka dared me to do a cartwheel and I made it to the part where my hands are on the ground, and my legs in the air… and I have no clue what happened next. I’m going to be double handless for who knows how long.” 

“You’re literally the last person anyone should dare when it comes to doing anything physical. Over six feet and you’re bad at anything that has to do with using your body.” He rolls his eyes and tries to cross his arms as he realizes he can’t, not properly at least. He just responds with, “yeah yeah whatever.” 

You think again about Soobin trying to do a cartwheel and you start to feel yourself cry from the amount of giggles and chortling, hands wrapped around your stomach. “Damn Binnie, how are you going to do anything now? You quite literally need both your hands for almost everything.” You wipe some of the tears that rolled down your face, “By the way, did the rest of the group come already? I haven’t checked my phone since I got your call…Wait, how did you even call me?” 

Looking unamused, he replies, “I had Hyuka dial you for me for your information. And yeah, they came already, you’re the last one to get here.” He looks like he’s thinking and he raises his head, looking ahead, and his eyes widen, “holy shit you’re right, how am I gonna do anything. How am I going to-“ he stops mid sentence as his ears redden. You quickly catch on. “Dude, you’re nasty.” 

“Shut up, you’re the one that’s thinking weird stuff. Also, I’m probably going to have to see if I’ll be excused for some assignments or something? I’ll have to figure it out.” 

“Well I’m not doing your assignments for you.”

You guys continue bickering like children until you’re both finally quiet. 

You hum as you finally calm down and sit next to him.

“Hey, when are they letting you go home?” 

“Tomorrow. They have to do extra checkups or something, I don’t know.” 

You nod as you finally ask him if he needs anything else and he tells you no, but it seems like he changed his mind. “Actually, can you change the channel for me? This is boring.” 

A day goes by, and both you and Soobin enter your shared space, finally getting home after they let him go. Obviously unable to drive, you had to bring him home. “Okay Soobin, welcome home again, don’t try to do any fancy aerobics for a while okay?” He just sighs, rolling his eyes, “ha ha. You’re so funny.” You shoot him a quick evil smile as you sit down on the couch. He decides to sit next to you as you put on some random movie. Most of the week is normal, Soobin able to do some low level things with one hand, and asking for your help with what he can’t. 

It was a quiet day when you entered the apartment. You put down the bags of groceries as you started heading towards Soobin’s room, asking if he wanted food. That’s when you hear him curse, “Shit, ow.” You thought he hurt his hand and needed something as you entered the room. 

“Hey Soobin, you need help with somethin-“

You widen your eyes in shock as you see him sitting on his gaming chair, sweatpants around his thighs, as his almost cast free hand is on his member. You struggle as you slowly step back, trying to look anywhere but at him. 

“Fuck I-I’m so sorry, I should’ve knocked. Let’s just forge-“

He doesn’t look that embarrassed, instead of hiding, he places his right arm over his face, voice shaking, “Y/n help me please. Please.”

You stop in your tracks as you try to process what he just said. “What?” 

He turns his face away and you can see how red his ears and side of his cheeks are. Left hand still on his dick, he starts answering you with a quiet and quivering voice, “it’s-it’s been more than a week since I’ve gotten off and I just…I just can’t. It hurts to try because of this stupid fucking cast, it’s too high up on my palm so it hurts me, a-and it’s my left hand so it’s harder. Please y/n, I wouldn’t want to ask you something this humiliating, I just need to get off. If..if you’re uncomfortable I understand too, I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away.” 

You kind of feel bad for the guy…

You deeply breathe in and out once, “Okay. I’ll help you. Only this once. I don’t want our friendship to get all weird, you’re important to me you know.” He lifts his head up as he looks at you, shaking his head quickly, “it won’t! It won’t, I promise! Please, just do something. Anything.” 

You go up to him as he watches you, his heart racing fast. It’s not like he hadn’t dreamt or thought of this once or twice. Maybe a thousand times. It’s not my fault, he thinks, he just thinks you’re the cutest person ever, no big deal. You get on your knees as you remove his hand from his dick. You wondered how you should help him, not realizing you were staring at it. He flushed at the way you were seemingly staring so intently, feeling his dick twitch. He was glad his hands were restrained, or else he would’ve lifted you up and kissed you by now. 

You hear Soobin whisper above you, “Y/n…”

“Oh. Sorry..um…” you quickly spit in your hand as you wrap your hand around him, unable to close the gap between your index finger and thumb. You see the way he gasps and slightly jumps from the feeling, liking the way your hand looks and feels on his dick. You stroke his dick shyly, unsure of what he even likes when it comes this kind of stuff. You guys were close, but never talked about anything this sexual before.

You look up at him nervously, and if Soobin was in some kind of cartoon, he’d probably be like those guys where you could see their hearts beat out of their chest. Your hands feel so soft on him, and he could tell the way you were apprehensive on what you wanted to do. Soobin trying to help, tells you, “harder, fuck, a little more, please.” 

You do as he tells you, seeing him moan quietly as he rolls his head back a little, bunny lips slightly opened. Your eyes divert back to his length in your hands, seeing how pretty it was. It felt hot and heavy against your palm. As you continued to look, a thought appeared: you wanted it in your mouth. Your body shifts at the thought, suddenly feeling hot as you swivel your thumb around his head, letting his precum smear against it, and you drag what you can down to his base. 

You look up to see Soobin with his head rolled back, breathing heavily, distracted from the way you were making him feel. You didn’t know, but Soobin was doing his best not to look at you too much or else he fears he might come too quick, wanting this to last. 

You take this as an opportunity, and you bite your lips as your face gets closer towards his dick. Opening your mouth, you finally take in his head. You taste him, sensing how he feels against your tongue. He gasps loudly as he involuntarily and softly places his hands, or in this case, casts, on your hair, taken by surprise. He accidentally bucks up his hips, making the cutest face you’ve seen. You look up at him with big eyes, tip of his dick in your mouth. 

Soobin swears he’s dreaming. He caresses your hair with his partly free hand as his breathing gets heavier, now panting at you slowly taking him into your soft, wet mouth more. His hair’s on his forehead, almost covering his eyes as he rolls them back, holding back from thrusting into the back of your mouth. He cries out at the feeling of you running your tongue on the underside of his dick, feeling his vein as your tongue moves against it. His abs flex due to his movements, his panting getting heavier and heavier by the second.

You like the heavy feeling of him on your tongue, and you start to focus on breathing through your nose more, taking almost all of him in your mouth. With your hands on his thighs, you start moving your head as you suck in your cheeks, wanting to see him break down. You suddenly hear and see him whimper, cute sounds flooding your ears, and it travels straight to your core. You see the way he closes his eyes, his eyebrows creasing close together, small scowl on his face from the pleasure, and the way he was building up a sweat just from getting sucked off. He looked good. 

You relax the best you can as you try to take him in deeper. You feel his head hit the back of your throat as you slightly choke, eyes watering and throat closing down. He looks down at you as he moans loudly, seeing your eyes wet and teary, making them shine while looking up at him, watching, seeing if you’re making him feel good. Your hand lets go of one of his thighs as you jerk off the rest of what you can’t fit in your mouth. 

You decide to try to deep throat him once more, taking him in all the way towards the back of your mouth, holding still once you feel his tip prod against the back of your soft tissue. Soobin moans and whimpers at the feeling of your throat constricting his dick, and tries his best not to lift his hips up, no matter how bad he wants to. “Ah shit, y/n…y/n feels too good, not-not gonna last like this.” 

You ignore him as you hear his sounds, whines spilling from his pretty pink lips as you continue to deep throat him. You moan at how needy you were starting to get, and Soobin almost cums, holding back like he has been this entire time because there’s no way he wants it to end any time soon. He looks down at you again, and sees how you’re drooling now, eyes, cheeks and nose red, your eyes big and watery, your lashes stuck together from the wetness. You go as deep as you can, choking around him as your nose almost touches his pelvis. 

This was the last straw for Soobin as he lets out a final moan and whine of your name as you remove yourself from him and feel his hot seed hit your face. You hear him continue to pathetically whimper as Soobin’s body is still tensing as he continues to come a lot, hot ropes of cum landing on your tongue as you stick it out, wanting to taste every part of him. 

Maybe his body wasn’t bad at everything, you’d have to find out. 

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@croptopjames submission for mr james fleamont potter's birthday<3

2598 words - NSFW - cw: spanking, squirting, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation theyre being nasty idk it escalated

aka feral fucking your husband after seeing him in a shirt that doesn't quite fit like it used to~

“Baby, I’m home,” Regulus shouts after entering the front door, kicking it closed behind him with his foot as he balances the huge ice cream cake precariously on both his hands.

They’ve invited the whole family as per usual, what with their first year with Harry out of the house coming back from uni for his dad’s special day, Sirius and Remus driving down and picking up Effie and Monty on the way. All their friends will come later this week for brunch.

Today it’s just the few of them though and Regulus finds himself with a spring in his step at the thought of all of them together today.

James has taken the day off and Regulus was able to weasel his way into only half a shift today which he nearly missed entirely after the way James had sat down in his lap first thing in the morning and ridden him until he was shaking, cursing and babbling incoherently, all the while his husband was seated on his throne, smiling brightly, happiest man in the world, practically taking the matter of his birthday gift into his own hands.

“Hi love!” comes from somewhere on the higher level of the house.

Regulus brings the cake into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and quickly dispensing the celebratory sweet in the freezer before James sees it.

Not a moment after Regulus closes the drawer to grab a bowl of blueberries from the fridge James comes into the kitchen, huffing and cheeks flushed, a presumably heavy box of just…stuff in his arms that he must have gotten from the attic.

“James,” Regulus starts, blinking, “You were supposed to take the day off.”

His husband smacks a content kiss onto his cheek, grinning brightly. His glasses are smudged and sitting crookedly over his nose and Regulus is pretty sure he spotted a bit of spiderwebs in the mess of his hair.

“Ehh,” James makes dismissively, “I still felt restless after I hit the gym this morning once you left.”

He places the box down with a heavy thunk, petting its side like a horse—he’s such a dad, “And we’ve been wanting to get started on these babies after spring cleaning anyway, remember?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, fondness betraying him when the corners of his mouth tug upwards, “Mm, that might be true. Still it’s your birthd—”

Regulus halts.

“Love?” James looks at him inquiringly, hands propped on his hips.

On his very much naked hips. A palm length sliver of skin exposed between the indecently thin and short gym shorts and the—

“James, baby, what are you wearing?”

Oh, Regulus’ mouth is so, so dry.

“Huh?” James looks down at himself, shuffling in place before his head snaps back up to Regulus, “Oh! Yeah I found one of my old shirts from uni.” His husband snickers, giving a little twirl and shaking his hips from side to side like he isn’t currently taking five years off Regulus’ life expectancy.

“You–” Regulus stops again, eyes glued to the small swell of his stomach over the band of the white shorts, the dark hair splattered all over and coiling at the center, carving a path up and downwards. It’s downright indecent. His arms fill out the shirt just how they used to back in uni but with the difference that it’s more fat than muscle now—though Regulus knows well enough from personal experience how strong his husband still is. His pecs are visibly straining the material, the washed out, maroon letters spelling HOGWARTS cracking from the stretch.

Even more so when James leans back on his palms against the dining table, draping himself all prettily against the edge and smiling coyly, blinking doe brown eyes from under long lashes at Regulus as if he didn’t already have him warpped around his finger hook, line and sinker.

“Baby,” Regulus rasps and he barely recognises his own voice.

“Yeah, Reg?” James purrs, tilting his head and exposing the expanse of his neck.

“How long until Harry arrives?”

“An hour or two, depending on traffic,” James responds, voice all husky. Regulus is going to wreck him. Reduce him to a stuttering, squirting mess in the matter of half an hour, take his fucking word for it.

“Good enough,” Regulus grits out and then he crosses the distance in two long strides, already yanking at his tie.

They meet in a mess of parted lips, clicking teeth and tongues nudging, eager as ever, trying to lick into each other’s mouths and taste. Greedy for it, happily swallowing moans and tugging their bodies close. They slot into each other easily, practiced after all these years, decades and Regulus reckons that’s how they somewhat safely find their way onto the couch.

Regulus’ back hits the cushions with a soft oompf, barely time to gasp another breath and reach for his husband before James is straddling his lap, clasping Regulus’ stubbly jaw in warm, calloused palms and pulling him right back into their kiss. They don’t stay there for long with the way James is restlessly shifting on top of him, grinding his crotch right against the bulge in Regulus’ slacks, making them both groan.

At some point Regulus abandons James’ mouth in favor of kissing over the stubble of his cheek and jaw and latch onto his throat while simultaneously trying to get his stupid shirt buttons open. When the takes too long however James seems to grow impatient, batting his hands away and fumbling with them himself while they pant and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Regulus is nipping at James’ lower lip, already swollen and an obscene kiss bitten red and his husband makes a sound. Downright needy and he’s sitting there on top of Regulus, flushed and with that dazed look in his eyes, moaning like a little slut, so Regulus can’t quite help himself when he pulls one hand around and smacks James’ firmly on the bum.

It elicits a gasp, high pitched and followed by a long, drawn out moan and James sinking deeper into his lap, recapturing his mouth and desperately rutting down against where Regulus is hard and already throbbing. It’s a medical miracle, truly, that no matter how many times they’ve had sex, Regulus’ erection is always at its best form for James.

“Mnh,” James makes, their lips parting with a wet smacking noise, “Need you, baby.”

Regulus grunts, fingers digging harshly into the meat of James’ arse, “Slut.”

Just like expected, James whimpers, and so prettily at that. Eyebrows scrunching pitifully and he grinds once more, helplessly, “Please, please.” 

“But of course, sweety,” Regulus relents easily, licking a hot stripe up his neck, along his jawbone and then right across his slack mouth, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

James moans in response, nodding his head frantically.

Regulus nods his head towards the end of the couch where the pillows are piled, “Scoot up.”

His husband does so dutifully and it doesn’t take longer than a second for Regulus to make James lift his hips and rip the sheer piece of nylon off and throw it over his shoulder, not quite surprised yet still horribly taken off guard by the lack of boxer briefs underneath.

Regulus is left with nothing to do but stare at the mess of wet, thick curls and pink fold glistening with James’ slick, spit pooling under his tongue in an instant. He grabs James’ ankles, settling them over his shoulders, trainers still on and letting his hands drive over white tennis socks, hairy shins and strong calves. Digging his thumb in there and relishing in the gasp he elicits from his husband that way, hips twitching with the suspense. Regulus strokes up his boney knees, massages the big muscle of his thighs, the hair tickling his palms softly, all the while letting himself pitch forward, making sure to spill warm breath over where James wants him most right now.

He goes further, letting his hands rake up and over his stomach, rucking the shirt up as he goes and tucking it over the swell of his pecks, exposing him for Regulus to play with.

James is panting, short little puffs of breath, brimming with excitement and barely refraining from whimpering on the way out each time.

Predictably, he breaks once Regulus lazily swirls a tongue around his exposed nipple, holding the eye contact and watching with satisfaction as James’ eyelids flutter. He can’t help but grin, nipping at the hardened nub before he retreats, settling himself comfortably between James’ thighs and without warning diving right in.

James positively screams the moment Regulus closes his lips around his cock, sucking him into his mouth and rolling him around between his lips until the bucking of his hips throws him off. Regulus hoists an arm over James’ hips, belting him down, and wastes no time inserting one finger into James’ searing wetness, sinfully hot inside.

“Ahh yesyes, please more, love, please m-hah—” James babbles, throwing his head back when Regulus drives into him with another finger, crooking them upwards and watching shamelessly as his husband’s precum pools all over his digits before diving back in to lick at his little cock. 

He works them steadily up to each finger until he is four in deep, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of James and sucking and mouthing at the bundle of nerves until James’ noises grow an edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Regulus asks, muffled between licks, jaw aching slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna– hnng,” James breaks off, screwing his eyes shut when Regulus gives a particularly harsh suck, noises obscenely loud.

He’s fisting the cushions like his life depends on it, white knuckling them in his grip, and it only takes a handful more thrusts and licks before James is shuddering through his first orgasm. Breaths coming quicker until he eventually breaks off into a keen, thighs quivering around Regulus’ head, squeezing at his skull and riding it out, grinding his cunt uncoordinatedly forward into Regulus’ face all the while convulsing around his fingers.

He squeezes in waves of pleasure and it makes Regulus so delirious that he blinks and the next thing he knows is him kneeling against James’ ass, belt undone, slacks shoved down just enough and prodding at his slick, puffy entrance with the head of his cock.

James is staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth agape and pupils so dilated they’ve swallowed most of the beautiful, dark chocolate brown.

“Baby,” Regulus prompts, bending James’ knees towards his ears with a grunt, “Jamie, be a good boy and hold these there for me.” His husband slowly blinks him back into focus, silently obliging and hooking his fingers into the bend of his knees—thank the higher powers James still does yoga once a week.

Regulus leans in, one hand holding him up off the couch, the other fisting around the length of him and smearing it through James’ wetness, “Now are you going to be able to be good and keep yourself wide open for me or are you already fucked too stupid, huh? An old man? Maybe we should postpone it for next year, ay papi, what do you say?”

James whines pathetically, rubbing his head into one of the throw pillows, knotting his black hair up even more before he swallows frantically, “No, Reg, pleaseplease, I can take it. Please, love, I’m gonna be good for you, I prom–Aah—”

Regulus bottoms out in one smooth thrust, vision dotting with black spots at the mind bending heat and vice grip James has on him, already pulsing around him shallowly.

He grants James a moment to get used to being full, slowly rocking his hips back and forth and listening for when his whimpers turn into soft moans, turning needy again, and then he reaches up to grip his chin, “Then take it, slut.”

The pace he picks up into is hard, not too fast but unforgiving and steady, a sure way to drive James crazy. Regulus nips his way along his husband’s chest, nuzzling his nose through chest hair and biting and licking at his dark nipples, tasting salt and sweat, feeling his cock twitch at the taste deep inside his husband.

When Regulus feels himself lose rhythm he hikes James’ legs impossibly higher, draping one of them over his shoulder before he starts spanking him again. The angle is awkward but it’s working, going off of the way James keeps jerking at the stinging contact, clenching around the length of Regulus and working himself into a frenzy, gasping and whimpering and groaning like he’s getting the best cock of his entire life. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Regulus demands, breath stuttering as he watches a fat tear roll down the side of James’ face, disappearing into the shorter hair at his temple.

Regulus keeps James’ thighs wide and open, rolling his hips with abandon, groaning and panting with every thrust, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and desperately trying not to lose control when James snakes a hand between his legs, frantically circling his cock while Regulus keeps pumping in and out of him.

“If you could only see yourself, baby,” Regulus grits out, “Fucking masterpiece, splayed out for me like this. Obliging my every demand, so fucking good, baby.”

James moans happily, tongue lolling out and without thinking Regulus sticks two of his fingers into his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and feeling the saliva coat them thickly.

“Can you go ahead and cum for me again, Jamie?”

James whines an affirmative around his digits, slurping messily, a trickle of drool trailing down the corner off his mouth.

“Think you’ll be a good boy and squirt all over me, baby? You know how much I love when you cum like that, hm?”

James breath hitches impossibly, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he nods deliriously.

Regulus quickly grabs him by the jaw, “Keep looking at me, James. I know you can do that for me, baby.”

And so he does.

On the next thrust James starts quivering again, fingers working furiously over his cock, mouth falling open around a silent scream and gazing Regulus right in the eyes as he pounds into him and James squirts around him. Spraying everywhere, absolutely in all directions and fucking messy, wetting Regulus’ torso and the couch—Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet wasn’t unscathed either.

That’s really all Regulus can take before his hips stutter in their pace and he buries himself deep inside James, letting the pulsing of his husband’s orgasm milk him dry as he spills and spills his cum into James for what feels like minutes on end.

At some point James lets his trembling legs back down, crossing his ankles tightly under Regulus’ bum as this one keeps jerking into his husband’s hole.

Once they’re both done Regulus is too exhausted to do anything else but collapse forward into James’ chest which he accepts with a happy hum.

They take a few minutes like this, James slowly coming to and starting to play with the curls at Regulus’ nape and Regulus breathing in the comforting scent of James, raking his short nails up and down the side of his ribcage.

After a while James presses a feebly kiss into the side of Regulus’ head, huffing out a big breath that makes Regulus rise with the motion of his chest before he snickers, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

Regulus chuckles into the crook of James’ neck, dropping a kiss there before lifting and staring into his husband’s droopy eyes, “Yeah, happy fucking birthday to you, baby.”

[veryinnovative]

“So, are we food hungry or office hungry?”

“Shut up.”

“Food hungry it is.”

[ellsey]

I just wanted to say that we have proof that Yor can actually touch her husband without freaking out anyway love that journey for her

[oh2bloved]

This is why Marcy is sleep deprived

[thewolveswolf]

we (@mrghostrat & i) are having a writing night together! so far i’ve written 18 words and slammed a choccy milk, so things are going well…

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 08

PREVIOUS

FF knows that it might be possible to get a new flight and that the excuse of “Oh I found a flight so I could go spend the holiday with my Gran” would probably be unassailable even tot he great unknown of Andrew Minyard’s displeasure (FF has not yet figured out when the pin will drop and Andrew will come at him. The man is a stone wall but FF knows that Andrew doesn’t like him and that knowledge is confirmed every time Andrew and Captain Neil come into Nicky’s dorm and find FF there hanging out with Nicky and he sees both Andrew and Captain Neil frown at him.)

It’s just that it takes 7-10 business days for him to build up the nerve to have to call someone and deal with customer service and it would take more bravery than he currently has to press forward and actually get a flight that would WORK. He has a very limited window for when he can get to Washington. HIs Gran had called a friend to borrow a car to pick him up and that was only available during a 6 hour window on his arrival date.

He COULD get a taxi to his Gran’s house but… (“What if I get kidnapped, what if I get trafficked, how do I tell a normal taxi from a taxi that will take me to a place where I’ll wake up in an ice bath and down a kidney, what if the taxi driver doesn’t like me, what if the taxi driver wants to talk, I don’t have anything interesting to say! What if he says mean things about me in his native language on the phone and I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s SAYING?)… he’d probably die during the hour long ride from the anxiety.

He tells his Gran and she promises to get a pie out to him A.S.A.P.

It almost makes him feel better until he remembers what he had agreed to when Andrew came at him at his WEAKEST MOMENT to get him to agree to spend an entire four days at the house in Columbia he has HEARD stories about.

FF, laying face down on the floor in Nicky’s dorm as Nicky pats his back: Nicky next time you see me about to agree to something that will result in me getting killed I NEED you to run up and just punch me in the jaw. I’m begging you. You know I’m a disaster.

Nicky thinking about how Andrew has gotten weirdly protective of FF since the whole step brother incident: I need you to understand that that will result in ME being killed which I am not a big fan of.

FF misunderstanding: My grandma’s not THAT strong Nicky. At most grandmothers from across the country will frown disapprovingly at you.

Nicky thinking about all the little old ladies who dote on FF for inexplicable reasons and how some of them know he’s FF’s friend and give Nicky the grandma experience he had lacked growing up: Somehow that’s even worse than what I was thinking :(

***

Nicky coming to check on FF hours later: Are…are you watching the Saw movies?

FF taking copious notes: I need to prepare myself to survive Columbia. Do you have a basement or will Andrew be moving me to a secondary location?

Nicky walking over and shutting off the TV: I think it’s time to go to bed champ.

FF: If I don’t sleep then Andrew can’t drag me to a secondary location. I bought a 20 pack of five hour energy because that is the most the CVS would sell me.

Nicky: They cut you off??

FF: Yeah the manager there said he’d sell it as a ‘favor’ to a ‘loyal customer’ but to destroy my receipt and I had to buy in cash in case I die from a heart attack so it’s not linked to them. So if I play my cards right I have around 4 days of energy right here. I have looked up all the foods that can make you sleepy and will be avoiding them to stack the deck.

Nicky guiding FF towards his bedroom: Y’know that includes turkey. Also those five hour energy shots will be murder on your tummy. :(

FF: I am willing to make some sacrifices so I can live to see 19 Nicky. Also I figure I can just drink an entire bottle of Pepto per bottle of five hour energy resulting in a net neutral situation in my stomach.

Nicky tucking FF into bed carefully: Or result in you going to the hospital for an overdose get some sleep Smith. Andrew is not planning on killing you.

FF already falling asleep because his stress energy is running out: You have no idea how much he dislikes me and how much pepto my body can handle but you’re right about going to sleep. I’ll need my strength to power through the reverse bear trap let alone a laser collar.

***

2 of Grandma Smith’s apple pies arrive in the early afternoon of Thanksgiving via a little old lady turning up at Abby’s house who is a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of Grandma Smith. The Foxes take a moment to marvel that somehow it is still warm despite apparently having been Granny expressed across the country despite the storm.

The delivering old lady pinches FF’s cheek and says not to be too disheartened and that his Grandma loves him and will see him for Christmas Break for SURE. She hands him a little note his Gran sent with the pies and he pointedly does not read it there.

This would make FF happy if he hadn’t been swearing up down left and right that he didn’t TALK to his grandma to Andrew whose eyes he can FEEL on him.

He manages a “THANKS.” In a perfectly normal tone. He has no memory that he already told Andrew and Captain Neil that he was spending the holiday with his grandma since he had blue screened at the offer last time and had rebooted in safe mode to power walk away from the situation.

“Your grandma is really nice.” Captain Neil says. “Those pies look good.”

FF, his anxiety momentarily overridden by a soul-deep love for his grandma, “My gran is the BEST and so are her pies.” And then he hears what he has said and walks back into Abby’s house to set out one pie for everyone else and goes and stress eats the second one on the living room couch after he promised Abby he’d clean up any mess.

He wonders if he’ll make it to Christmas Break as he sees Kevin Day staring at him in abject horror while Andrew stares straight at him.

Even with the attention on him he decides to check the note the other granny had given him from his Gran. It is in her native polish so he feels his shoulders relax since no one would be able to read it.

‘For my little Chicken, this isn’t your last meal like you texted me. I know you will be fine. I am thankful for you in my life every day.’

He tucks the note in his pocket and feels a little better.

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos

[shitouttabuck]

playing with the hair and "you sure this is ok" sounds so soft aaaah I hope you'll find inspiration, I love your writing

got a little sappy with this <3

bed-sharing prompts: person A idly playing with person B’s hair while they’re asleep + “you sure this is okay?”

the sound of love astounds me

Eddie’s man-behind today. Bobby tries to be fair with it, not constantly relegating the probies to the job no one really wants, and today it’s Eddie’s turn again.

He’s grateful for it—he slept badly last night, and that’s probably why Bobby made him stay behind in the first place, taking pity on his dragging feet and muffled yawns not one hour into their shift.

They’re past the 18-hour mark now, late night blanketing the firehouse in a thick, heavy quiet. The rest of them have been out on a call for a while, a three-alarm factory fire at the edge of their jurisdiction. Eddie’s itchy about it, always is when it’s a more serious call and he’s not there alongside his team. Not there alongside his partner.

Buck’s a big boy, and Eddie knows, he knows him not being there isn’t going to unbalance the dynamic of their team so dramatically something goes wrong, but. He’s supposed to have Buck’s back, and as much as he trusts the rest of the 118—with his life—no one else is Buck’s partner. Not the way Eddie is.

The sound of the engine backing into the station catches his attention and he gets up from the couch, leaning over the loft railing as everyone stumbles out the rig, sooty and sleepy. Hen looks up and gives him a tired smile, Chim bumping into her shoulder as he blows Eddie a kiss before heading to the showers.

Buck’s last out the engine, exhaustion written into the slump of his body. He doesn’t look up at Eddie, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he shuffles slowly after everyone else.

Eddie reheats dinner, serving it all up just as the rest of his team flops into chairs around the dining table. Still no Buck.

“Did you cook this?” Ravi asks, poking suspiciously at the casserole with a fork.

“I’ve made my peace with food poisoning, I’m so fucking hungry,” Chim says, mouth already full.

“Hey,” Eddie protests mildly. “I followed Bobby’s recipe exactly.”

“Really?” Bobby asks, examining his own plate in surprise. “Oh, uh, no, of course. Looks good, Eddie, thank you.” He takes a very deliberate bite, making a big show of chewing amidst noises of approval.

Eddie sighs and turns to Hen. “Where’s Buck?”

“Still showering,” she tells him. “Rough one today.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. “Did you lose someone?”

Hen shakes her head, setting down her fork. “No, no—sorry, didn’t mean it like that. He got stuck carrying two guys out on his own, though. And one of them was in pretty bad shape. Think his whole body is feeling kinda tender.”

“Oh,” Eddie blows out a relieved breath. “Okay.” He smacks Chim’s hand away from the last corner of the casserole. “That’s for Buck. You can have some more garlic bread.”

Chimney pouts at him, and Eddie ignores it in favour of covering the casserole dish and sticking it back in the oven to keep warm.

One by one, everyone wanders to the bunks, drained from the day. Eddie hangs behind, clearing up the kitchen and waiting for Buck to show up. There’s no sign of him by the time the counters are sparkling, so he flops back down on the couch with his book. If it’d been a bad call… Eddie’d like to think he knows what Buck needs, usually. And sometimes that’s just a minute to decompress by himself, washing off a weight of weariness rather than an intangible hurt.

Sure enough, he hears the quiet padding of Buck’s footsteps come up the stairs not much later. Eddie cranes his head over the back of the couch, smiling upside-down and wonky when Buck comes over.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Buck hums. His eyes are droopy with exhaustion, cheeks ruddy from being under the hot spray of the shower for so long.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” Eddie tells him.

Buck exhales heavily, giving him a small smile. “Not so hungry.”

“Sleep, then,” Eddie says, nodding in the direction of the bunks.

Buck grimaces. “Everything aches.”

“All the more reason to sleep,” Eddie presses.

Buck looks at him, blinking tiredly. “Okay,” he says, suddenly amenable, rounding the couch and climbing onto it. He drapes himself across it, settling on his back and shoving his head into Eddie’s lap with a contented sigh. Eddie sits frozen, book in one hand and the other hovering over Buck’s chest.

Buck cracks open one eye to look up at him consideringly. Eddie smiles down at him automatically, can’t really help himself, and gently lowers his forearm to rest across Buck’s broad chest.

“This okay?” Buck asks, slightest note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Better if you were asleep,” Eddie says, flipping the page of his book. He lets the hand curled around Buck’s torso squeeze gently, reassuringly, even as he goes back to reading.

Buck huffs an amused breath, wriggling a little as he settles more firmly in Eddie’s lap, turning his head to get comfortable. This angles his face so that it’s basically pressed into Eddie’s crotch, tip of his nose brushing the fly seam of Eddie’s pants.

Eddie swallows, positioning his book a little higher to cover any change in expression his face might betray, because—it’s Buck, and this isn’t sexual, but God, Eddie hasn’t had this kind of intimacy in his life in a while. He’s less worried about popping a boner from his best friend’s face so close to his dick and more concerned Buck’ll take one look at him and know just how badly Eddie wants him this close, all of the time.

Whatever. If everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much, too. It’s not an Eddie thing, it’s a Buck thing.

Buck’s breathing evens out, deep and steady, and Eddie reads until the words start swimming on the page. He yawns, putting the book down and wondering if he can catch some sleep like this, because he’d rather be trapped on a desert island with his parents than wake Buck up right now.

Buck’s snoring lightly, warm puffs of breath Eddie can feel even through the fabric of his pants. His hair is curling messily from his shower and—there are bits of… something in it? Eddie sighs, knowing Buck probably just zoned out under the spray for half an hour without actually scrubbing his hair at all.

He runs his fingers through Buck’s hair, dislodging flecks of indiscernible airborne debris from the fire. He cards through more purposefully, combing it out as best he can and scratching his nails gently against Buck’s scalp.

Buck murmurs, nuzzling into Eddie. The hand closest to the back of the couch scuffles along the cushion till it finds Eddie’s, wrapping around it and tugging it to his chest with such strength Eddie blinks in surprise, astonished that he’s still asleep.

Eddie goes back to sorting through Buck’s hair one-handed, discarding tiny pieces of detritus lodged in his curls. He gets a little lost in it, something calm and hypnotic about the repetitive motions: stroking, cleaning, brushing through, over and over and over.

He’s startled from it when someone clears their throat softly. He just about manages not to jerk in his surprise, and Buck remains slumbering peacefully. Hen’s standing a few feet from the couch, eyebrow cocked and mouth quirked with amusement.

“There a reason you’re grooming Buck like a monkey picking nits off her baby?” she whispers.

Eddie flushes, removing his hand from Buck’s curls. “He has a bunch of shit in his hair from the fire,” he says defensively.

Hen bites down on her smile. “Okay, okay,” she says soothingly, like she’s talking to a spooked horse. “He forget to actually wash it during the longest shower known to man?”

Eddie sighs, fingers resuming running through Buck’s hair almost unconsciously. “You know how he gets when he’s this tired.”

Hen hums, and Eddie looks up at her again. “Why’re you up? Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head, inclining it towards the bathrooms. “Just needed the toilet.” She makes as if to head back down, then pauses, looking at him assessingly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head again, smiling softly. “Just—I don’t think there’s anyone other than Karen and Denny whose hair I’d pick through voluntarily. And any other kids of mine, I guess. Family.” With that, she turns and disappears down the stairs.

Eddie swallows. He looks down: Buck, face pressed into Eddie’s stomach; Buck, hand clutching Eddie’s arm to his chest; Buck, curls wild and springy from where Eddie’s been running his fingers through them, cleaning him, grooming him, taking care of him. Hen’s not dropped a bomb of any sort on Eddie; Buck’s his family, he knows that, Buck knows that, he’s fairly sure anyone who’s ever met them knows that.

But he thinks yeah, there isn’t anyone other than Chris and Buck whose hair he’d pick through like this. And maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of family than he or anyone else realised. Maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of love.

Buck snuffles discontentedly in his lap and Eddie scratches his scalp soothingly, heart settling as Buck settles.

So maybe the reason Eddie wants him close all the time is slightly different to what he thought. This remains true: if everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much. That’s a Buck thing. But maybe, if he’s open to it, Eddie can make loving him this much, every day and in every way, an Eddie thing and exclusively an Eddie thing.

Buck shifts on the couch, tugging Eddie’s arm a little higher up on his chest, and Eddie splays his palm over Buck’s heart, feeling the steady thump.

When Bobby wakes them both for breakfast hours later, Eddie leans against the table to stretch the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up. Behind him, Buck reaches a large hand out to massage the junction of his shoulder gently, and Eddie melts into his touch.

“Would you pick nits out of my hair?” he asks before his brain comes fully online.

“Sure,” Buck says, not missing a beat. “D’you have lice?” He leans forward to inspect Eddie’s hair and Eddie swats him away.

“No,” he says, slightly offended. “I do not have lice. Just—hypothetically.”

Buck yawns. “’Course, Eds,” he says. “Your lice are my lice, and all that.” He serves himself a heaping of scrambled eggs and ambles off to the kitchen to grab orange juice from the fridge.

And maybe Buck is just the kind of person who, unlike Eddie and Hen, would comb through anyone’s nasty hair. But your lice are my lice is more romantic than anything Eddie’s ever heard, even in his own wedding vows, and when Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s under the table before stealing a bite of hash brown, Eddie thinks maybe this love between them is equally cared for, a two-way street in every sense of it, a Buck-and-Eddie thing.

(more bed-sharing prompts)

[sylvich]

The couch, the couch, the couch is on fire

Burn, motherf*cker, burn

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i have this really stupid idea in my head that im frankly a little obsessed with and the idea is this: trent crimm doing a drunk history episode on ted lasso's first tenure at richmond. is that how drunk history works? i don't think so. do i care? absolutely not. it's a special episode who cares because this image is not only hysterical to me but treasured. i treasure this image. i hold it close in my heart and also laugh and laugh and laugh.

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Guys I had a thought and it’s equally hilarious and adorable so here.

But GhostSoap falling asleep on a couch that’s just a touch too small to fit them both so they’re snuggled right up against one another, cuddling and so entangled with one another they don’t know where on begins and another ends.

Soap wakes first and takes a moment to relish in the peace and safety, smiling at a still sleeping Simon (cause the man doesn’t have his mask on for once and he’s not Ghost unless he has the mask) before he decides to get up.

What he doesn’t realise though, is just how entangled the two of them are. So when he goes to get up he ends up just tripping, falling over the side and pulling Ghost with him cause they’re legs are still tangled together.

Ghost wakes and manages to catch himself before he fully crushes the Scot but something has definitely been strained and his knees are definitely bruised as all fuck now.

Soap groans underneath him, rubbing at his elbows and head. A moment of quiet goes by before Ghost huffs a laugh and that just triggers Soap to start laughing his ass off cause he’s positive that they probably looked so stupid just then.

Johnny doesn’t mind too much tho, forgets the pain of the bruises quick when he looks up to find a smiling Simon looking down on him. The man’s expression fond but exasperated, and it’s the softest Johnny’s ever seen him.

[zarla-s]

Wrote another fic! I’ve accidentally tried to heal Heavies even if they’re on the other team and ended up getting killed for it, and that spun out into thinking about RED and BLU’s deal, and then it got a bit more involved than I anticipated.

–

Title: I’m me (I’m the only me) Words: 5.5 K Rating: PG-13 (for casual talk of blood and gore, very brief mentions of sex) Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairings: Heavy/Medic Warnings: Some brief blink-and-you’ll-miss-it mentions of bdsm

Summary:  

A chance encounter with a wounded BLU Medic gives RED Heavy and Medic a bit of an identity crisis.

[Link]