#oh and... THANKS FOR THE ASK!!!

[thelaundrybitch]

*kicks down the door to your inbox, dragging this behind me before dropping it into your lap with a plop and proudly wiping my hands clean*

Whew! Here's that little dribble for ya Mz. Laundry. Sorry its taken such a hot minute. Hope you enjoy!

Addiction

It was supposed to be a simple check in. 

Nothing more. Nothing less. 

They hadn't heard from you in a couple days. Not a text. No phone call. Not even a reaction in the group chat. 

Which was…normal… more or less considering your busy schedule and whatnot, but after everything with the Kraang, Leo couldn't be too sure. So he thought he'd just drop in, you know, just to say hello.

Not that he had worried or anything. The Faceman didn't worry. He just missed you. Not anything like that at alllll…

Still…something in his gut told him something was off. And he had learned time and time again to trust said gut. So he had portaled unceremoniously as he so often did, directly to your fire escape window. Where he proceeded to knock rapidly against the glass like an impatient woodpecker on crack. 

The sight that met his eyes as you all but yanked the window open was…unexpected to say the least. It wasn't your usual bright smile or exasperated smirk. Not even a familiar short quip or returned-fire pun had greeted him. 

No, it was you, looking like you had just rolled out of bed, or just finished fighting your own share of demons. With bloodshot eyes, circles so dark under your eyes that black looked like a cheery color, and a mane full of frizzy bedhead, you had obviously seen better days. Or nights for that matter. If the way you somewhat swayed with your hand against the window seal was any indicator.

Needless to say, you looked worse for wear, and Leo almost panicked. Almost. He totally didn't rush forward, holding onto your arms to keep you steady. Or not so subtly looked directly into your eyes to check for any abnormalities that could indicate a physical struggle or anything. Nope. He totally did not low-key sniff you to check if there was a scent of sickness of some kind. None of those things. Nada.

No, all he did was let out a soft chuckle and very suavely asked “Look at what the cat dragged in. What happened to you?” Because he totally did not care and was not worried, for like even a second. 

What took him by the most surprise was the way you somewhat pulled out of his grip, looking away to sheepishly scratch your cheek as you mumbled out that you had started a new book series. 

Leo could only blink at your response. A…what?

You had let out a little nervous laugh, and he watched with complete befuddlement as your cheeks started to heat up in embarrassment as you repeated yourself. Pulling even further away from Leo, not that he may or may not have held you still for a beat longer than necessary before letting you go, you started to wave your hands animatedly as you did when you got passionate about something.

It was nothing, you had told him. Just a really good book series that you had gotten hooked on earlier in the week that may have been taking up a little bit more of your time than you were expecting.

Leo’s eyebrows (if he had any) would have arched as he folded his arms with a cock of his hip. He had laughed, laughed incredulously actually, at the thought that a mere book series is what had kept your attention long enough to make you go MIA for an entire week. 

He had snickered and leaned in close with that cursed cat-like smirk of his and had asked if you were reading something nAuGhTy. And if you were, maybe he should steal them once you were done, just to see what had captivated you so. 

He then proceeded to watch with undisguised glee at the way your face positively flamed scarlet as you sputtered out indignant defenses on behalf of your beloved series.  

No! It wasn't anything like that at all! You swore up and down. You just had a terrible habit of getting addicted to good literature way too fast, no matter the genre of novel. The tunnel vision when it came to books was something you had struggled with since you were barely a tween, a nearly inescapable pull of a siren’s call. 

Leo had just laughed again, shaking his head with barely concealed mirth as he playfully took you by the shoulders and turned you around, not so subtly directing you towards the bathroom. Telling you that there was no book so interesting that it would  take you away from the coolest attraction here in NYC. AKA him. 

Aaaaaaand maybe his brothers. You know. If you turned your head and squinted long enough. Maybe. But that was just his ego and need for attention talking.

AnYhOo, it was only fair that he as THE hero of said city, should rescue you from a sad book-filled fate, and introduce you back into the world of the living. As such you needed to get ready to go out.

You had squawked at his more or less relentless shoving, clearly taking the hint that maybe some sprucing up was in order, before laughing yourself. With an exasperated but amused shake of your head, you tried to warn him that it was serious. Tried to warn him that addictions shouldn't be taken lightly, that they could be dangerous. 

But Leo of course, took your warning like a speed limit sign, nothing but a friendly recommendation. “Pffft” He had laughed. He had laughed. “Sure. Whatever you say. How bad could an addiction be?” 

How bad could an addiction be?

That conversation was weeks ago. So tell him why he was staring up at the ceiling in the wee hours of the morning with your words echoing around him like a bad dream. 

“It’s the worst, Leo! It’s set my sleep schedule completely out of whack!”  

Well, he was no stranger to weird sleep schedules. Heck, he would even go as far to say that “Insomnia” was his middle name. Leo was no stranger to ghosts eithers. He’s had plenty of nightmarish visions to last him 2 lifetimes over. 

But this was the first time, that you had come to haunt his scared midnight thoughts. Flashes of faces, tendrils of touches, snippets of scents and mere presses of presences snapping through his mind like an old picture show, all with the ever-growing echo of you, you, you in ever fiber.  

Leo didn't wait for anyone, but more often than not he found himself waiting up later or waking up earlier for just one more text, one more moment, one more touch with you before he had to let you go for what ever reason.

“It’s constantly on my mind. I can't even think straight.”

It was with annoying frequency that Leo realized that you were now constantly on his mind to the point that he was struggling to think straight. 

Do you know how many times he'd have to hold back a wandering hand that on instinct reached out to pull you closer? How many times he's bit back a compliment that may have come across a little more serious and vulnerable than he was ready to share? How many times he's had to wrangle back thoughts that had strayed a bit too far to ever be considered innocent? 

He can't deny it even though he is desperately trying to that he thinks about you.

Thinks about trying to unravel the ever-intriguing mystery that is you. Which jokes makes you laugh to the point your eyes crinkle, which pick-up lines make your nose wrinkle, which foods make you hum(could he somehow get you to make that sound again?) which shows make your heart drum, what silly antics make you smile, what kind of clothes make up your style. 

Thinks about how he could convince you match with him one day, maybe get you to casually wear something a little more blue. Thinks about not so casually, intentionally, marking you and painting you in his color too. 

You, You, You.

“It’s like the weirdest rush ever, like I can't get enough.”

Enough. Enough. Enough. You were right. It was never enough. He never has enough of his fill of you. 

Rush was a good word for it too, the way his heart would pick up pace when he would see you. No matter the moment or occasion, his blood thrummed a little warmer in his veins at the sound of your laughter. His breath would catch like he'd been running for too long when you would sit just a little bit closer than before. He would feel strangely empty, cold, and even slow when you weren't around.

It was a completely unnameable feeling… aching? A yearning perhaps? A craving growing need… to see you again just…just be near you for a moment more. 

That would be enough, should be enough, to get himself together again, to get his heart back to a normal rhythm, right? 

Right?

You. You. YOU.

“And like, its the dumbest thing ever right? But I feel like I can't tell anybody. I feel weirdly ashamed? Because nobody would understand.” 

Ohhhhh, Leo was beginning to understand more than you probably know. He knows a thing or two about shame. Because he ashamed about the way he's started to think of you. 

Starting to enter territory that he should never, ever, have entertained. How his hands twitch with the urge to slide up the curves of your body, to carress the warm skin of your ever-flushed cheeks, to explore you and your mysteries in ways he's never wanted to before. To go places with you he's never dared to dream of doing before. To steal back the breath that you had so unknowingly taken away from him everytime he sees you. 

Yes, he's ashamed. Because friends don't think about friends the way he’s starting to think about you.

YOU. YOU. YOU. 

“And you know what the worst part is, is that I can't stop. I-I don't think I even want to.” 

Yeah. That was probably the worst part of it all.  Leo knew, he knew, that he should stop. This wasn't good for him. This...this obsession. It wasn't going to be good for you either. You were his best friend. He couldn't ruin this. He couldn't ruin you. 

It was getting to the point it was dangerous. 

But just like a speedlimit was just a mere suggestion, he was ever the daredevil. And so Leo’s foot remained firmly on the gas. 

Because he didn't want to stop. 

Addiction is the poison that we drink unto ourselves.

So yeah, he had laughed at you, not taking the warning serious in the slightest. 

But how could he laugh now? How could he continue the growing charade when the truth was now staring him directly in the face when he looked into the mirror.

He had laughed. But he could no longer deny.

Leo was addicted to you.

~AnOnYmOuS

*SCREAMING INTO THE ABYSS*

AnOnYmOuS??!!!

*shakes you lovingly*

THIS WAS EXCELLENT

And exactly what I needed after a long ass day of doing homework and going to class.

WOWOWOWOWOWOW

Obsessed and addicted Leo my beloved

I must know... Is there more 👀

No pressure of course.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING THIS WITH ME!!!

Keep being amazing, keep being you 💖🫶🏽🫵🏽

[stealingpotatoes]

Do you like any other video games? If so, do you like Zelda and whats ur favourite game?

i like LOTS of games!! i’ve only played a bit of BOTW but i got bored once i’d fully upgraded my house in that village and never defeated any of the divine beasts

[noodles-and-tea]

I LOVE THE WAY YOU DRAW LITTLE STAN. hes just a little guy.

MY LITTLE FREE SPIRIT STANLEY!!!!!

[forgettable-au]

HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT THE NEW DELTARUNE NEWS???!! Just two months more...

I wanted to make something to celebrate, but I have NO time soooo here's another WIP for the animation I'm working on hehe

[squidwujun]

"Hey how is it going?"

[e1isyn]

to hold me like water,

or christ, hold me like a knife

[wardingshout]

Maybe a Ravio?? He gives me life, maybe he can give you life.

Ravio for you ! :D

I don't actually know too much about him but his outfit looks very cuddly sleepy-ish...

[cantpickyourgenre]

I believe Bobby is coming back from the dead because I think we deserve to live in a world where Kenneth Choi gets to act his ass off by playing a simultaneously relieved/joyous and angry/furious Chimney, who feels like he has to thank Bobby, but also scream at him until his throat is sore because it wasn't fair to make that decision! he's going to say they should have played rock, paper, scissors and Bobby will chuckle because he thinks he's joking like silly haha Chimney, but Chimney is like "no, we should have discussed it, you died and I didn't even get to say thank you. you died and I owed you a debt I didn't even know about. you let me carry that" and he has to wrestle with the guilt of knowing that Bobby would do that for him, not just theoretically, but actual concrete proof that Bobby would die to save him. which they all know on some surface level that they'd die for one another, but it feels like such a far-off concept until it isn't. but Chimney also has to deal with the gratitude because Chimney is also so incredibly thankful that he didn't die. every step of the way he wanted Ravi, Bobby, Buck, and Athena to commit crimes, because he loves his life and he wants to keep living it. he's so overjoyed that he got to go home to his wife and kid, and that comes with its own guilt because how can he be so happy to be home when Bobby DIED. does that make him a monster? that on some level he's HAPPY that Bobby did that? and now he has to FACE Bobby. so he tries to be the Before Chimney who gets people whimsical gifts, but how do you give someone balloons about choosing your life over theirs? and he spirals because he's different now and Bobby is here and he has so so much he wants to say but all of it feels contradictory and unfair and he would normally go to Bobby for advice. so he does. he goes to Bobby and he says "what would you do, if you were in my position?" and Bobby just says "whatever you need to say or feel, I understand" and that just makes Chimney even more upset because what he needs is for none of this to have ever happened. its like they all got a re-do, but kept the memories and the feelings and now he has nowhere appropriate to put them. anyway, Bobby lives and we get Chimney angst yay <3 forever and ever.

[sashayed]

"i asked chat gpt if--" don't bother finishing this sentence, mon ami. whatever you are going to say means nothing.* the other day i heard a professional journalist start an interview question this way to a person i admire very much, and i know it's just part of the language now and there's no real point in continuing to chafe against it, but the skin-crawling secondhand embarrassment i felt almost drove me out of the auditorium

*exception if it is VERY funny. it can't be just a little funny because it's always a little funny in a mostly depressing way, it has to be either a really left-field spectacular joke or a boggling self-own like that guy who sexually harrassed his AI "employee"

[hyruling]

omggggggg 58 + 60 for the intimacy prompts mwah mwah mwah 🥰🥰🥰

60. sitting in their lap

—

“Dude. I know you heard me call seat check.”

Chim shrugs, tucked into Buck’s spot between Eddie and Maddie on the couch, smugly eating the popcorn that Buck and Eddie had been sharing before he got up to pee. “I heard no such thing.”

“You’re blocking the TV,” Ravi complains, but Buck ignores him. 

“Come on, you all heard me. I was only gone for like, three minutes.”

“Wife privilege trumps seat check rules,” Chim argues, tossing popcorn in his mouth with a shit eating grin. He wraps his free arm around Maddie, who’s focused on the movie and studiously ignoring them both. 

“That’s not a thing—”

“It is when it’s our first night out of the house since the baby was born,” Chim argues. “Or I could use the captain card if you prefer.”

“Abuse of power,” Ravi mutters, and Buck points to him excitedly. 

“Yes, exactly, thank you Ravi!”

“I think you should use it though,” Ravi continues to Chim, and Buck gapes while Chim does a stupid fist pump. “We’re missing the climax of the movie dude. Just sit on the floor.”

“Easy for you to say from your high horse in the comfy armchair. The floor is hard on my leg,” Buck says. It’s only half true, but he’ll use whatever excuse he can to win one over on his brother in law. 

“You sit on the floor all the time,” Hen interjects from her spot on the loveseat, curled up cozily with Karen, also ignoring them. 

“Irrelevant,” Buck says with a dismissive gesture. “The point is, I called seat check, and what kind of society are we if we can’t even respect the sanctity of—”

And Eddie, who until now had been silently observing with an amused grin, rolls his eyes and sighs, “Dios, come here.”

He wraps a big hand around Buck’s wrist and tugs until he has nowhere to go but Eddie’s lap. Buck falls limply down, trying not to crush him at the last second by throwing an arm across the back of the couch. Eddie situates him across his legs, his back against the armrest next to Eddie, and if he weren’t struck so dumb by the whole thing he would put his feet in Chim’s face just to be annoying. 

“Happy now?” Eddie mutters in his ear.

“Uh,” Buck says intelligently. 

Eddie’s hand settles on his knee, the other resting behind Buck’s back along the armrest. Everyone’s eyes are on them when Buck looks up, but Eddie’s are on the screen. His cheeks are a little pink, but otherwise he appears normal. 

“Wow,” Chim says after a minute. “An instant Buck-Off button.”

“Shhh,” Eddie hushes him before Buck has a chance. “Some of us are watching the movie.”

Chim shakes his head with a short laugh and finally turns his attention back to the screen, and the rest of the room follows suit.

Buck is, ostensibly, also watching the movie, but he has no idea what’s happening. Gun to his head he couldn’t name a single actor in it, despite having watched the last hour and a half before Eddie rewired his synapses. All he can focus on is Eddie, the feel of his chest rising and falling against his arm, his thumb rubbing unconscious little circles against Buck’s elbow, the heavy weight of his hand on his knee.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers after who knows how long, quiet in Buck’s ear. 

Buck turns. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim room, his face much closer than Buck anticipated. He nods and tries to get a grip, though Eddie must be able to feel the way his heart is beating with the arm tucked around his back. 

“Yeah, I’m great,” he answers softly. 

“Sure? I can sit on the floor, if you’d rather not—”

Buck is shaking his head before he can finish the sentence. “No, no, this is — yeah, this is perfect.”

Perfect? He cringes internally, but Eddie isn’t fazed in the slightest. In fact he smiles, soft and pleased and all for Buck, and his heart rate kicks up another notch. 

They finish the movie twenty minutes later. Buck’s had to pee for a good fifteen of that, but he refused to get up — he doesn’t have the kind of luck that will afford him a second chance at this. He doesn’t even get up when everyone else stands to stretch and refill their drinks, perfectly content to stay where he is for as long as Eddie will allow it. 

Similarly, Eddie doesn’t push him off the second it becomes acceptable to do so. In fact he encourages Buck to stretch his legs out on the couch with a silent pat on his thigh.

“Am I crushing you?” Buck asks when they’re the only ones still in the room. 

Eddie shakes his head and gives his knee a squeeze. “Nah. You’re kind of like a weighted blanket.”

Buck flushes and looks away. Feels ridiculous, like he’s fifteen again and being flirted with by Cassie McDaniel in homeroom — except they’re in their thirties, and Eddie isn’t flirting. He’s just being Eddie. The New Eddie, as Buck has coined it in his head; the one that came back from El Paso with a twinkle in his eye that Buck can’t quite parse. He’s the same old Eddie but lighter, somehow — more free with his touches and casual affection in a way that Buck very much enjoys, despite the way it’s slowly driving him insane.

Like now, for instance.

“Your ass is kinda bony though.”

Buck scoffs, affronted, and Eddie laughs. His hand tightens on Buck’s knee when he tries to shift his weight off Eddie’s thighs. “Didn’t say you needed to move.”

“Well I’d hate for my bony ass to dig into your perfect thighs.”

“Perfect, huh?” Eddie teases, and there’s that fucking twinkle again.

“Mediocre. Above average. I know you skip leg day at least once a week.”

“How many times can we have this argument?”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a healthy discussion.”

“Core strength is more important than having huge biceps, and as a firefighter, you should understand that—”

“Well those huge biceps have saved a lot of people, didn’t hear them complaining.”

“I’m definitely not complaining either, but my point is—”

“Are you two gonna cuddle on my couch all night?”

They look up to see Hen standing over them, hands on her hips and brow raised suspiciously. 

“Maybe,” Eddie says before Buck can come up with anything. “You got something to say about it?”

“Only that you have your own house to be weird in,” she says with an eye roll. “And that Buck promised to help clean after the fiasco with the fondue last month.”

“Shit, I did,” Buck says, gingerly getting up so he doesn’t hurt Eddie with his bony ass. Eddie squeezes his hip as he goes though and nearly sends him sprawling. He just blinks innocently up at Buck when he whirls on him, self-satisfied little smile on his face that Buck wants to—

Nope. Not going there. He trails off after Hen and decidedly does not think about it. 

He doesn’t think about it when Eddie comes in to help clean, hip checking him at the sink. Or when they say their goodbyes to everyone at the door, and Eddie presses little smacking kisses to Karen and Hen and Maddie’s cheeks that he pretends he’s not wildly jealous of. Or when Eddie leads him to the truck with a hand on his lower back, and keeps it there until Buck rounds the hood to the drivers seat. He doesn’t think about it on the drive home, Eddie quiet in that way he gets sometimes after one too many drinks, and he definitely doesn’t stare at Eddie’s ‘perfect’ thighs when he changes into his sleep shorts and sinks onto the couch next to Buck. 

“That was fun,” Eddie says, relaxing until his head rests on the back of the couch.

“Yeah. Super fun.”

It’s quiet again, only sound coming from the TV playing on low. Buck keeps his eyes glued to it, though he’s not taking in a single thing Mrs. Brady is saying. 

“You’re thinking pretty loud over there bud,” Eddie says during a commercial break. 

Buck chances a look at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks so soft, relaxed against the cushions, wearing a baggy tank and shorts that ride up well above what Buck would consider an appropriate length. Buck looks quickly away. 

“Hey. I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier, did I?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Buck answers, and forces himself to make eye contact. Eddie looks a little unsure, and Buck quickly shakes his head. “No, I told you it was fine, I promise, I just. I’m tired, I guess. Karen’s sangria always sneaks up on me.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah I know. Wanna share the bed tonight?” 

Buck flushes, and this time it’s definitely not dark enough for Eddie not to notice. It shouldn’t be a big deal — they’ve shared the bed a few times since Eddie and Chris came home, usually after a particularly grueling shift where their exhaustion ran too deep to tolerate the couch, and it’s been fine.

Only the last time it happened, he woke up to Eddie curled around his back, hand curled possessively in the front pocket of his hoodie. And in his half-conscious state Buck had thought, this is how I want to wake up everyday. He’s avoided sharing ever since. 

“Nah, couch—couch is fine,” Buck stutters. 

“Buck. Come on, talk to me, what’s got you so freaked?”

“I’m not freaked,” Buck lies, and turns back to the TV. “I’m not. Just. Brain is too loud tonight, I guess.”

He sees Eddie nod in his peripheral. “Well, I wasn’t kidding earlier you know.”

“About what?”

“You feeling like a weighted blanket,” Eddie clarifies. 

Buck’s head snaps to the left. Eddie looks serious as a heart attack — which, incidentally, Buck may be currently having. 

“So…”

“So,” Eddie echoes.

He inches closer until their thighs are touching. Buck watches in a weird sort of trance as Eddie twists and swings a leg over, hovering above Buck’s thighs. “This okay?”

Buck unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth and says, “Yeah—yes. Yeah.”

Eddie smiles and sits fully, and then they’re just staring at each other. Buck keeps his hands firmly to himself, while Eddie’s rest comfortably on Buck’s shoulders. 

“See what I mean?”

Buck blinks, remembers the weird metaphor they’re operating under. “Um, sort of. You’re only—I-I mean there’s only weight on my legs.”

“Good point.”

Slowly, as if he’s anticipating Buck to call their game of chicken and push him off, Eddie leans forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. Buck feels his chin dig sharp into his shoulder before he adjusts and lays his cheek against his collarbone. 

“How’s that?” Eddie asks, slightly muffled. 

Buck inhales, feels Eddie move with him on the exhale, and it’s — well, Eddie wasn’t lying. Eddie lets his full weight press against Buck and it's comforting, to say the least. Electrifying, because it’s Eddie, and yet as the minutes pass he can feel his heart rate slow, his breathing ease. He feels their chests rise and fall together, Eddie’s warm weight settling him in a way nothing has in a long time — maybe ever. His mind goes pleasantly blank, even when one of Eddie’s hands starts to comb through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“It’s nice,” Buck answers belatedly, and Eddie chuckles at the sleepy timbre of his voice. “I see what you mean.”

“Right?” Eddie says, scratching gently at his scalp, and it feels so good he melts even deeper into the couch cushions. “You can touch me too, you know.”

“Oh,” Buck mutters, and picks his hands up from where they’d been resting awkwardly next to Eddie’s thighs. He wraps them tentatively around Eddie’s back; Eddie makes a contented humming sound in response. 

They stay that way for a long time, until the late night rerun ends and another episode begins. Buck’s hands drift after awhile, smoothing up and down Eddie’s back slowly, thumbs rubbing circles against his scapula and vertebrae. 

“Hey Eddie.”

He’s half asleep, and Eddie is so big and warm in his arms, and it makes him reckless. Eddie’s ear is so close to Buck’s mouth he can whisper what he hasn’t dared speak out loud. 

“Yeah Buck?” Eddie says just as softly. 

“I need to tell you something. No – don’t, don’t get up.” He wraps a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck to keep him still. 

Eddie huffs but stays put. “You’re not about to tell me you’re moving, are you?”

There’s such an air of dread and petulance in his tone that Buck laughs. 

“No. Didn’t, uh, know you had such strong feelings about that.”

“Well. I do.”

“It’s not that,” Buck says, and Eddie exhales against his neck. “But you might, uh—you might want me to when I—”

“No I won’t,” Eddie interrupts, leaving no room for argument. “Tell me.” 

Buck swallows, hard enough that Eddie must hear it. But he waits patiently, one of his thumbs tracing figure eights on the back of Buck’s neck, and for some reason that is what finally breaks through his thinly guarded veneer.

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

The figure eight stutters to a stop, but Eddie doesn’t move an inch. If anything, he covers Buck with his weight even more, somehow, and Buck feels his nose brush his clavicle. 

“And you think I want you to move out because of that?” 

“I—well, maybe, I don’t want to make you feel—I don’t know. Actually, can we pretend I didn’t say anything?” 

“No,” Eddie says. And then nothing else. 

“I—Eddie you gotta—you gotta say something. Tell me to fuck off, or that it’ll never happen but you value our friendship anyway, o-or that nothing will change between us—”

“Hmm, no. None of those sound like me.” 

“You literally said that last one. Basically verbatim, less than a year ago.” 

“Yeah, but I was lying then. I don’t want to lie to you again.” 

“Eddie, come on, what does that me—” 

But in one swift move Eddie sits up, catches Buck’s face between his hands, and kisses him. 

It’s a short kiss, a dry brush of slightly chapped lips, but it manages to alter his entire worldview in the five or so seconds it last before Eddie pulls away. Buck gets a brief glimpse of his pink cheeks before he tucks his head back against Buck’s shoulder. 

“There you go sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles, voice drawling the way it does when he’s tired. “My knees have about another five minutes of this before I need to get up, let's not waste them.” 

“Okay,” Buck says in a ragged voice that doesn’t quite sound like his. A voice belonging to a mouth that has kissed Eddie Diaz, and therefore irrevocably changed. 

True to his word, Eddie continues to crush him into the couch for another five minutes, until his racing heart slows again and their eyes are half-lidded and drowsy when Eddie sits up. 

“That was nice,” he says with a smile.

“Y-yeah, it was,” Buck agrees, squeezing Eddie’s thighs. “Same time tomorrow?”

Eddie huffs out a little laugh, and though Buck was half joking, Eddie nods and presses his forehead against Buck’s shoulder. Buck drops a kiss to the crown of his head before he can quite stop himself, and Eddie makes that same happy humming sound Buck wants to chase for the rest of his life. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you there.”

—

[morganbritton132]

AU where Eddie doesn’t like this, and he doesn’t want to be doing this but he’s short on cash and he’s desperate.

He puts hand in his pocket and follows behind the first guy that looked like he had money. He sticks two fingers against the guy’s back and said, “Give me your wallet.”

With the deepest sigh, the guy said, “Just do it, man.”

Oh,” Eddie says horrified, taking an actual step back, “Don’t say that.”

“Man, just do it. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t,” The guys says. “If I have to go back to the DMV, I’ll lose it. I’ll end up on the news.”

Eddie just stares, gasping at the the back of this man’s really luscious head and then does the one thing Wayne had instilled in him. He offers a helping hand, “Do you want to get dinner?”

The guy turns his head to give him an incredulous look. He’s so beautiful, Eddie can almost forgive his blunt words when he says, “You don’t have many money.”

Eddie grins, “True. I’m Eddie.”

“Steve.”

“Well, Stevie. Looks like you’re paying.”

[800db-cloud]

PLEASE POST THE ONE MILLION DOODLES YOU ARE SHY TO POST /pos 🙏

sure thang o7 here are some i made that i think are good enough to post. can you tell who my favorite merc to draw is

re: the last comic: i have way too many spy hcs. Way Too Many. anyway here’s (BLU) spy accidentally traumadumping on his teammates. is he Alright.

[pokeberry5]

Hi for doodle request, can I see Tim showing Damian pictures he took before being Robin?

i got carried away thinking about them

the reality lol:

i think it'd be funny if what finally brought them together is damian gaining a grudging respect for tim when he learns about the obsessive lengths tim went to in the lead up to his assumption of the robin title and tim realizing he's found a fellow devoted dick grayson admirer (just-nightwing admirers and dick-grayson-friends don't count)

bonus:

they're both fanatics

the panel is from new titans #60

[zu-is-here]

Dream do you like flowers?

note to self | happy ♡alentine's day! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)❀

[hypewinter]

Danny can no longer Go Ghost. Oh his powers work perfectly fine, but whenever he tries to transform, it seems as if the universe itself is screaming and begging him to not transform

So he goes to Clockwork who explains that Phantom has simply grown too powerful and that Danny simply needs to empower someone to act in his stead like an avatar

Unfortunately, Danny can't really choose anyone he knows. Tucker is not responsible with powers and the less is said about an empowered Sam, the better

It'd be absolutely hilarious if the avatar gets selected via a tournament arc. I imagine it wasn't Danny's idea but he was taking too long since he didn't want to burden anyone with this responsibility leading to the Observants deciding they'll take care of it. Cue all of Earth's heroes being summoned to an arena and told to fight until a victor is crowned. Really? This again? They all collectively groan. Meanwhile Danny is blissfully unaware of what's going on as he's back at the Clocktower trying to figure out the best candidate (the Observants thought they'd gain favor if they just surprised him with a new avatar).

I'm not honestly too sure how the tournament itself would turn out. Maybe the heroes would go along with it until they could figure out just what the reason for the tournament is this time. Maybe they would immediately jump to revolt. Punch first, ask questions later and all that. I could go either way to be honest.

All I really want is for the heroes to bust down the door and confront Danny about this whole tournament, ready to take down another crazy in power, only for this painful sleep deprived child to blink up at them, "What tournament?"

[bonbonly]

need a continuation of college au Charles actually taking away your panties because you’re so wet all the time fully knowing it’s because of him. Maybe he’ll plug your pussy up instead telling you that it’s just a treatment but the entire day (or days he plugs you) you’re squirming with every step not able to think about anything else. When you’re back with him for a check he plays with the plug a little making you so wet that he decides he needs to ‘drain’ you making you squirt

i actually started crying out loud reading this, anon, im actually so down bad now for college au charles leclerc and im not even a leclerc girlie pLEASE bon thoughts (18+)

poor you. you listened to collegeau!charles leclerc during the inspection and told yourself to not get wet. it was wrong! but every night when you went back to your dorm, all you could do was think about his fingers inside you, or his big cock bullying your cunt. he told you it was part of the procedure, but why did you want more?

charles is extremely cocky now that he knows he's the reason you keep drenching your panties, and he decides to tease you further. he knows you'll come back for him, so he doesn't have to worry too much about being safe with the boundaries and whatnot. besides, you promised to keep your pretty mouth shut and never tell a soul about what happens in the exam room. after all, both of you had a reptutation to maintain!

he takes your panties, telling you to never wear one from now on and to only ever wear skirts so that if you ever bend over in the library, everyone should see how your cunt is crying to be filled up, but no one would be allowed to touch. only he had that privilege. you nod your head at whatever he says, trusting him completely. he was the inspector, of course he knew better than you! he pulls out a small plug from his bag, and brings up to your mouth asking you to suck on it like you would to a lollipop. you nervously do so, looking at him to make sure you were doing it properly and once its wet enough he shoves it inside you, loving the way your back was arching already.

"whats this for?" you ask, furrowing your brows.

"just a check, really. you'll have to wear it until i see you next time, though. don't take it off at all, mon ange," charles instructs you.

the next time that you see him, you're whining and fussing. you're being a bit of a brat, squirming in your seat and begging him to take the plug out of you,

"i hate it! i hate it! it just feels so.... ugh," you whine out loud, bucking your hips in the air. you were chasing after something but you didn't know what. charles takes his gloves off, chucking them in a trash can nearby and rolls his chair over to where you're sitting. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread your legs under that miniskirt you were wearing and he's delighted to see that a) you weren't wearing panties and b) your cunt was squeezing that plug, your juices dripping down like a thunderstorm. he pulls the plug out just a few millimeters before shoving it back in you, and you're actually sobbing now,

"charles, no, no, no, please! please!"

"please what?" charles asks, and you shake your head,

"i... i dunno," you reply, your head falling back onto the bed with a thud as tears flow down your cheeks. he glances at the door behind him, making sure the room was locked before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off of him.

"there's just too much, chérie, you're just too wet," he whispers against your cunt, toying more with the plug. your cunt keeps clenching around the toy, begging to have some relief because the torture you went through in a week was just too much for your poor little brain. charles takes the plug out for good, listening to your whimpers. he watch your hole pucker up at the cold air and he smiles, draping your legs over his shoulders. just the touch of his warm skin against yours makes you moan, wishing he'd do something about your aching pussy, that couldn't be normal right? he had to have some procedure for this!

"i might have to drain you out," charles looks up slightly to meet your eyes, and you're nodding your head,

"yes, yes, anything, charles, just do something!"

he's smirking at your reaction, mumbling to himself how desperate you were but it doesn't reach your ears because his tongue is licking long stripes against your folds. you moan out loud, bucking your hips up but charles holds you down against the table as his licks grow deeper, deeper into your hole. his nose rubs against your clit, and the small stubble he has on his chin prickles the inside of your thighs, making you jolt at each move of his head.

"i should've done the taste test weeks ago," he grunts, sucking your clit before flicking it with his tongue, "oh you taste divine, you taste amazing."

his tongue dances down to your entrance, and he bobs his head as he does so, watching you writhe above him as he adds two fingers. he's hell bent on seeing you come undone for good. he's picking up his pace, adding a third finger and pumping them faster inside you. he moves his head away to get a good look at your reactions, mouth wide open as your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. he has a thumb rubbing hard circles on your clit as he's curling his fingers right where you need him the most.

"c-charles! w-wait, oh my!" you're shrieking, feeling something grow inside of you that you didn't even think was possible. it was different than the feeling like last time, but this felt more intense. charles didn't stop his relentless assault and instead went right back to harshly sucking your clit as his fingers danced inside you.

and with a large scream, you're squirting all over his fingers, watching his mouth chase after your liquids, lapping at whatever he could taste as his fingers kept going. you look down to see his face covered in your juices, some of them dribbling down his bare chest. his lips are parted ever so slightly and he's licking them and biting the inside of his cheek, "I think we can do one more, right chérie?"