#fic: someone to be gentle

[thewolvesof1998]

Hiiii Wolf 💕💕💕

Buck and Christopher are baking Christmas cookies!

-how many are they making?

-what kinds are they making?

-what do they end up doing with them all?

And anything you can think of to describe the scene!

Have fun with it!! ☺️

Hi Saturn 🪐 !!!

I'm going to use this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Oh okay, so this sent me down a rabbit hole of sugar cookies and the types of frosting and now I'm going to have to bake some. So I had my first and only ever sugar cookie when I was in Ohio in March. It was sooooo fucking good and I'm pretty sure it was buttercream icing because it was so light and fluffy. I also love making white chocolate butter cream icing so I'm excited to make sugar cookies with it.

Anyways, your questions!

Buck and Chris are making Christmas cookies for Chris's class, maybe they're having a bake sale or maybe it's just to spread some holiday cheer, either way, they are making so many cookies, that the trays are spread out all over Eddie's kitchen. Here are Buck's inspiration photos (because of course he made a Pinterest board for it):

And just image him and Chris making all of these cookies:

And here's a snippet from Someone to be Gentle (which already had a cookie baking scene and I might have already posted most of this so if you've read this before no you haven't):

When Eddie walks in the front door of his house it's to the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of his kid cackling like he’s done something cheeky and he knows he’s going to get away with it because, as Buck says, ‘Look at that face, how could you be mad at him?’.  Eddie follows the sound, can hear the timber of Buck’s laugh join and harmonise until it’s a cacophony that feels like it’s rubbing aloe on his therapy raw soul. He rounds the corner into his living room and is standing in the door of his kitchen taking in the chaotic sense. There are trays, so many trays, of sugar cookies, half are iced in shades of green and white, the others laid bare. Chris still has his back to Eddie, head tilted back in laughter but Eddie can see Buck, can see the green icing smeared across his cheek and the fake look of outrage on his face that is betrayed by the laughter falling from his lips.  A far too familiar ache rips through his chest, his breath catches and eyes start to burn with tears that have become so common lately that he’s surprised they haven’t left permanent marks on his cheeks. He ducks away, not wanting his darkness to mar their happiness any more than it already has. He slumps down onto the couch, head already in his hands trying to push the tears back into his eyes as if that would erase the fact that they were ever there.  A hand lands on his shoulder, it stretches from scar to shoulder blade, “Eddie?” “I’m good, I’m fine,” He says without looking up, his voice all crackly with emotion. He senses more than sees Buck sit down opposite him, the coffee table creaking under his weight, Eddie always in tune with every movement Buck makes. His hand never breaks contact, the warmth and steadiness of his palm in sharp contrast to how Eddie’s shaking like a leaf.  “You know it’s okay if you're not fine,” Buck pauses as if he’s gathering his thoughts or courage, “You don’t always have to be strong with me, I’m not going to judge you or-or run away, Eddie.” Eddie shakes his head, “You don’t want this, it’s messy, I’m a mess,” as if to emphasise the point he wipes away snot with the edge of his sleeve.  “Of course I do, we’re partners,” Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Bucks, his edges are a blur because of the tears but his cheeks are flushed pink as they usually do when Buck’s on a passionate roll, “best friends, I-I want the bad as well as the good, I want to be there when you’re at your worst, let me have your back.” A sob tears out of his chest, it sounds an awful lot like Buck’s name. And he’s not sure if he’s folding forward or if Buck’s reeling him but his arms are around Eddie, holding him close to his chest and something snaps within him. His fingers twist into Buck’s shirt as he cries into his shoulder soaking the material with tears and snot in a way he hasn’t done since he was a little kid crying in his mother’s arms, before the ‘you have to be the man of the house’, before he learnt it was bad to show weakness. And he knows that's not true, been teaching his own son it’s not but it’s so much easier to be kind to others than it is yourself. 

The poem it's based on

first snippet second snippet

tagging people for Tease Tidbit Tuesday: @wikiangela @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

#9-1-1 #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #thewolvesof1998 writes #buddie fic #fic: someone to be gentle #911 #tease tidbit tuesday

[annyeoz]

A lil comic for @fox-quills of her fic Mobius,, part 2 in progress...

*EDIT: part 2 is posted.

(heads up warning,, this fic is explicit)

#fanart #fan comic page #my art #bnha fic #omegaverse #aideku #eraserdeku #erasermic #time travel #dekumic ? what actually is the ship name ??? #wait... what is the ship name for these three together pls someone tell me bc idk lol #first time comic making.. pls be gentle

[snakebites-and-ink]

CW: Pet whump, referenced kidnapping, captivity, conditioned whumpee

Whumper stretched and glanced at their clock. It was probably time to check on their freshly-caught pet. They headed to the room their new pet, Whumpee, was in, and opened the door only to be greeted with furious yelling and the jingling of chains. Clearly Whumpee was not happy with their new arrangement.

Whumper walked into the room and shut the door behind them. “Hello there.”

With a small growl, Whumpee lunged towards Whumper and swept their leg out in a kick that very nearly landed.

“What do you want?” they demanded angrily as Whumper stepped just out of their reach.

Whumper smirked. They retracted Whumpee’s chain so that it was too short to stand with, and Whumpee was forced to their knees. “Nothing too extreme. I just want you to behave and obey me.”

Whumpee struggled against the chain uselessly. Whumper walked closer, feeling fairly safe from attack now. “What—? What are you going to do with me? Why am I even here?”

Whumper smiled. Someone was asking all the right questions. “I’m going to keep you for myself, dear. You’re here because this is your new home. You are my pet.”

Whumpee paused. Their eyes went wide. “You mean you’ve adopted me?” they asked.

“That’s right,” Whumper confirmed.

“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you! I won’t disappoint you,” Whumpee said, nuzzling Whumper’s leg affectionately.

Whumper hesitated, dumbfounded. They gently tipped Whumpee’s face up to look at their own. “Are you…already trained?”

“Yes sir, I know my place,” Whumpee said intently.

“Oh?” Whumper responded. “Then why were you acting so feral just a minute ago?”

“I didn’t know you were adopting me! I thought I’d been kidnapped, and I had to fight my captors like a person to have a chance at getting out. I can be good, sir, I promise!” They looked up at Whumper with pleading eyes.

“And why were you going about the world without an owner when I found you? Living your life like you thought you were a person?”

Whumpee averted their gaze, not looking like they’d been caught faking, but like they actually were sad. “After I was taken from my first owner, no one wanted to have me as their pet. They all said I was a human. No one else took care of me, so I had to take care of myself.”

Whumper lowered themself to Whumpee’s level. They cupped Whumpee’s cheek gently, and noticed that they automatically tilted their head slightly into Whumper’s hand. 

“Oh, I bet that was hard, wasn’t it?” They kept their tone soft and sympathetic, but inwardly Whumper was ecstatic. Whumpee didn’t even want to be free.

Whumpee nodded, face rubbing against Whumper’s hand as they did so.

“Don’t worry. Now that you’re mine, I’ll take care of everything for you. You won’t have to work another day in your life to have nourishing food and a roof over your head, so long as you don’t do anything too foolish like running away.”

Whumpee dove towards Whumper and hugged them fiercely. “Thank you thank you sir, thank you, you’re so nice I need it—”

Whumper was delighted. Whumpee was so so grateful, practically loved Whumper already for taking them. And here Whumper had been expecting to be hated and resisted for a couple weeks at least. They pulled Whumpee back enough to see their face. Were those tears? Aw, they were! Whumper forced their instinctive grin to emerge as something warm and soft instead. If Whumpee thought they were nice and caring for doing this, Whumper wasn’t planning to disabuse them of that notion as long as their behavior stayed good enough. “Shh, it’s alright, dear pet, relax. You’ll never have to worry about anything again.”

Whumper hugged back, holding Whumpee close. They felt so small and sweet in Whumper’s arms. Whumpee obediently quieted their rambling and let go of a portion of the desperate tension in their body. With Whumpee’s face tucked safely out of view against Whumper’s chest, Whumper allowed their wide grin to finally appear. This was going to work out wonderfully.

#I may have used the placeholder name Whumper but really they’re more of a Carewhumper. At least with this particular Whumpee. #They wouldn’t be so gentle with someone less conditioned tho… #whump #original fic #whumpblr #writing #whump writing #whumper pov #pet whump #(not institutionalized) #conditioned whumpee #recapture #of a sort #my posts #my writing

[kanene-yaaay]

Oh, To Die By Your Hands

Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.

Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D

[~*~]

“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy. 

Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”

A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”

“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”

“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”

“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”

“That is right, that is right.”

They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.

It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to. 

Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.

Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.

And yet…

Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core. 

Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did. 

Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son. 

If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.

“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”

So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.

Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”

He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.

Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him. 

“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby. 

“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.” 

“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”

“We are.” 

Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.

“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”

The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him. 

He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.

But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.

“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”

“No. It’s… the other.”

Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”

Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”

Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.

“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”

“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”

“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah, that… that made sense. 

This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.

It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.

But…

“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”

“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”

“Do you promise?”

Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”

Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.

Maybe… If it was him.

He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall

“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well… 

Talk. About stuff.

“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”

(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)

Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”

“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”

(It doesn’t matter.)

“Nah.”

Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”

“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”

“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”

Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.

“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”

“Oh, you think so?”

Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble. 

“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”

Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”

Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice. 

Cozy. 

Warm. 

Tickly.

Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.

Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.

(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)

The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.

He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.

Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.

He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.

“Oh, is it my turn now?”

Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”

Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.

“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”

“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”

That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”

“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”

“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”

Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.

“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”

 Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.

“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer. 

Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”

“Pac…”

But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.

A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.

Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this. 

“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”

The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”

“Really?”

“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”

“P-pac, come on…”

The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.

“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”

Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from. 

Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.

“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.

“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”

Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.

He waited.

Waited. Nothing.

A kiss was pressed on his forehead.

He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.

“Oi, Fitch.”

“Roi, Pa-ACK!”

Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next. 

Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.

It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.

“You were saying, Fitch?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.

“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”

The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap. 

Fit was the one who broke it.

“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”

“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”

The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him. 

“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”

“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.” 

“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”

“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”

Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him. 

“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”

Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.

But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.

Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.

“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers. 

“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”

“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”

“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain. 

Damn, he was really, really gay.

“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”

With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.

“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter. 

His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.” 

“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance. 

Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”

“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator. 

The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.

All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.

Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.

“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.

Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.

“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”

The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.

“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”

Oh.

Oh.

Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.

“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)

The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck. 

Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.

Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.

A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable. 

Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.

A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.

“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!) 

“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.

“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.” 

The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval. 

Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”

“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”

The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?” 

He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.

Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”

Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.

He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.

Fit chuckled.

Maybe Pac was right. 

Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill. 

Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.

#I couldn't help myself. I just HAD to make Pac's accent getting stronger when he is being tickled. I JUST HAD TO. #One day I will write a tickle fic where someone learn the word 'cosquinha' and keep teasing the brazilians about it that day is not today #Because I Would Die. Fall on the floor completely dead. #Fit: I'm a monster Pac // Pac twirling his hair giggling kicking his legs: that man could destroy me hehehe #Sometimes I worry for their mental health #Fit: *is silly* // Pac: *internal non stopping gay screaming* #Pac: a // Fit: You're absolutely right #qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #Switch!Fit #Switch!Pac #Ticklish!Fit #Ticklish!Pac #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Still not over Pac saying that he would kiss marry and kill Fit and Fit answering with 'I like my man dangerous' like GET OUTTTT #I'm going to become homphobic in the end of this I am telling you I can no longer take this I had to keep pausing their date because- #-*I* KEPT GETTING GIDDY AND EMBARRASSED LIKE GET OUT OF HEREEEEE YOU'RE MADDLY IN LOVE YEAH WE KNOWWW #Fun fact here Fit prefers to tickle attack his loved ones with raspberries and stuff because he doesn't trust his hands to be gentle :D #Sorry :')

[indie-summer]

twisted

for @cycleprompttuesday

prompt: color

—

It was all João Almeida’s fault.

Or at least that is what Jonas thinks when he finds himself standing on a Twister mat, right next to Tadej Pogačar.

Despite Jonas’ objections, João insisted that, of course, five could play this game. Then he took the role of referee, safely away from all the messy contortions that were bound to happen, and made the other four take places on the mat.

Now, Jonas has his right foot on a yellow circle, left foot on the green one. Tadej is on his right, Cian and Juan stand on the opposite side. Then João starts bossing them around.

“Right foot, blue.”

Actually, this was Juan Ayuso’s fault.

Had Juan not started to mess around with the (mostly abandoned) hotel game room, he wouldn’t have found all those board games. The Twister box looks as old as Jonas, and that is saying something—he is the eldest of the men playing the game. Twister is for kids, and for the life of him, Jonas can’t remember why he accepted to take any part in it.

Now, Jonas and Tadej try to go for the same blue spot. Tadej places his right foot there first. He grins at Jonas, who has to think fast and drag his foot to the nearest vacant blue circle. Jonas tells himself the rush of adrenaline comes from his weird competitiveness, and not from the touch of their bare feet.

He doesn’t even acknowledge what Cian and Juan are doing on the other side of the mat, when João says, “Right hand, yellow.”

After giving it some thought, it was all Cian Uijtdebroeks’ fault.

Because Cian was so young—therefore, so full of energy on this second rest day of the Tour. Cian also longed for having friends in the peloton, and Jonas took him under his wing. Much like Jonas, Cian felt most comfortable around his own team. But unlike Jonas, he looked for acceptance elsewhere, too. Juan was a nice kid, so when he invited Cian over for game night at the UAE hotel, Jonas said to his younger teammate, sure, you should go, it’ll be fun. And when Cian confessed that the idea of going alone made him feel a little embarrassed and too self-conscious, Jonas said, fine, I’ll go with you, I’ll stay just for a little bit.

Now, he deeply regrets this.

He easily lowers his hand to the yellow circle next to his foot. Then realizes that Tadej took the spot available… well, right between Jonas’ legs.

Jonas is familiar with that hand, from the lines and freckles to the long fingers and short nails. He can’t see it, but knows there’s a wound on the palm, from that minor crash last week. He remembers the feeling of the scabs against his skin.

Right now, Jonas really can’t reflect on that hand between his legs, so he looks around to see what the others are doing. Juan seems to be in a comfortable position, his hand right next to Jonas’, a boyish smile on his face. Cian is all contorted on the mat, his face out of sight, but hopefully having fun.

“Left hand, green,” João says.

Ultimately, this was all Jan Tratnik’s fault.

After all, Cian wouldn’t even be in France with the team had Jan not fallen ill a week before the grand départ. It was a minor cold—not serious enough to get anyone worried, but just that he had to give away his spot in the Tour squad.

Jan was really frustrated at that outcome, but surely not as much as Jonas is at the moment, when he has to stay on all fours before Tadej.

He immediately lowers his left hand to claim the nearest green circle. He feels more than sees when Tadej reaches for the one right next to it, his arm stretching between Jonas’ legs. Tadej laughs at their awkward positions, then laughs even harder when Juan falls to the floor.

Jonas is still recovering from the sound of Tadej’s laughter when Juan gets pulled out of the game by João, who loses no time before spinning the needle again.

“Right hand, red.”

To be honest, it was Tadej’s fault.

None of this would be awkward at all, if only Tadej hadn’t knocked on Jonas’ door a week earlier, on the eve of the first rest day.

That night, Jonas could not even feign surprise at the sight of Tadej at his doorstep. Tadej didn’t need to voice what he wanted; the desire in his eyes said it all.

Today, Jonas tries his hardest to reach for any red circle, but his balance is compromised. He slips to the side, collapsing on the mat, right on top of Tadej’s arm. He accidentally takes Tadej to the floor with him, and Cian wins the game.

Cian throws his fists into the air and celebrates as if he had won a race. João ceremonially claps his hands, but the mockery is friendly. Jonas knows that Cian’s bright smile is not about the victory—it’s about the sense of belonging.

Jonas feels it, too, when he quickly exchanges glances with Tadej.

Jonas calls it a night, but encourages Cian to stay. Cian agrees and promises it’ll be just for a little longer. Juan takes the spinner from João’s hand and announces that, this time, he will be the referee. João pouts, but takes his place on the mat. Tadej tells them that, if Jonas is going to have an early night, so should he, too. The others protest, but Tadej still follows Jonas out of the game room.

As soon as the door closes behind them, they openly stare at each other for a beat. Tadej doesn’t need to voice what he wants; the softness in his eyes says it all.

Jonas takes Tadej’s hand and lets him guide him to his room.

Really, Jonas has no one but himself to blame for any of this.

And he’s not sorry at all.

#cycling rpf #pogagaard #tadejonas #cycle prompt tuesday #prompt: color #not beta read #i wasn’t going to ask someone to beta my flash fic so all mistakes are my own #non native english speaker here #so be gentle please #wtf is a preposition #wtf are verb tenses

[softlyella]

Should the idea of devotion feel foreign to you, or repulsive, do not come to me, flirt with me, try to be with me in any capacity.

Devotion is how I love and desire to be loved.

A devoted man whose heart is full of Love for me, whose dick is connected to his beautiful and loving heart, who shows me his insecurities and gently listens as share my own, crying, who holds me so close and tight I hear the beating of his heart.

A devoted man who eagerly waits the permission to put his lips on me, attach his mouth to my core, whose perfect dick stands tall and strong, hard, leaking, about to burst as he laps my pretty pussy hungrily. A devoted man who sees me as an absolute goddess, a queen whose desires are his to fulfill.

A devoted man who wishes nothing more than seeing me happy and pleasure everyday, running barefoot under the morning Sun in a still dew covered garden.

A devoted man who lays me on a blanket amongst the blooming flowers, plucks a ripe grape to feed me, watching in awe as the juice explodes in my mouth, pushes my dress up my legs till he finds the band of my silk panties, my legs thrown on his wide shoulders, his teeth playfully nibbling every bit of skin he has access to before his pink lips press wet kisses on the very same spot.

A devoted man whose fingers hook themselves into the hem of my panties and slowly, with his attention being the kisses in my knees, he removes the only clothing keeping him away from my heat.

A devoted man whose strong hands knead my thighs, spreading them open with a gentle force as his lips cherish the path leading to my dripping pussy. The scent drives him into further ecstasy, his own arousal now impossible to ignore as it threatens to burst from his clothed prison. The discomfort urges him to reposition himself, laying down so close to core I feel his warm breath on my expectant lips and begin to clench, aching for his touch.

A devoted man who eats me out like a starved fairy who has awaiting my reincarnation for a quarter of a century. Unable to quench his thirst and hunger anymore as the only thing that now feeds him is the divine juices of my pleasure. One hand keeping my hips in place, the other sometimes exploring my curves, sometimes my cunt, always touching me, aching for me, for connection.

A devoted man laid down drinking my pleasure as much as he is causing it, nurturing it, expanding each orgasm by helping me ride the wave with softer licks between my lips, and skillful fingers, never stopping, only slowing down and speeding up, cleaning me up as I squirt with the incessant teasing of his fingers on my sensitive spot, as I writhe beneath him, pull his hair, push my hips against his face aching for more.

A devoted man who only comes up for hair.

A devoted man whose underwear are soiled with the mind-blowing effect I have on him.

A devoted man who yields to the authority of my desire, the path of my pleasure knowing only he is allowed on this path.

A devoted man whose mouth trails up my belly in search for a nipple to bite. A devoted man with his hand on my breast, massaging, as his tongue toys with the other. A devoted man whose throbbing dick now grinds against my naked pussy, a most welcome friction.

A devoted man who pushes his shorts out of the way, freeing the part of him who most craves being inside my pussy, currently clenching on thin air.

A devoted man whose gaze is fixated on my body, sprawled out for his enjoyment, to satisfy the starvation within.

A devoted man who meets my equally lust full gaze.

A devoted man who reaches to wrap his hand around his hard member, stroking himself whilst looking at me, silent moans escaping his half closed mouth.

A devoted man who slowly lowers his head to est between my thick thighs, his hungry mouth devouring me once more, starving for my taste, my moans, my hand running into his hair, and the cascade of sweet juices he, and only he, draws from me.

A devoted man with a leaking cock, hard just for me, and from me, who groans against my clit as I grind against his mouth with each orgasm. Each drop of me sends his enraptured cock into an euphoria that has him question reality. He feels gone, kept alive solely by the taste of me, divine sustenance he cannot get enough of.

Never before has he ever felt the need to taste a woman and drink from her.

Never before has sex felt like nourishment, one that puts his heart at peace, his soul in bliss.

My devoted man who has been laid with me on this blanket, amongst the blooming flowers since the sun was high. Through my love for him, these sacred feeding on my pussy are bringing him back to life, fueling him with life force each time he abandons himself into the rapture of our sexual intimacy, his mind unable to think of anything but my pleasure, happiness and safety.

The blissful smiles I give him after each climax, the screaming of his name, repeated, chanted like a prayer, louder at times, a difficult whisper to utter at others…. These things fuels a fire within him that hadn’t awoken for anyone else before myself.

His fatigue and weariness are disappearing further with each lap of his tongue. His heart flutters each time I say his name. His body feels welcome, fully. I receive all of him. Even the part that we’re dismissed by others.

My devoted man feels found with me. He’s home, finally.

And so, he gives his home his all, happily, eagerly. He never wants to stop. He will never leave.

#devotion #should I turn this into a full length fic #fem/dom #eating someone out #gentle domination #divine feminine #treat me like the most delicious goddess #mine

[biaswreckmepls]

Gentle reminder - reblog!

Hi everyone!

Not sure if you've been keeping up with all the changes that keep happening on tumblr, but every single time this website and company is acquired by someone new, they try their best to turn it into another facebook, or instagram, or tiktok, or whatever the cool new social media platform is. It's a fundamental misunderstanding of how this platform works and the benefit of the anonymity and workings of the unique algorithm. But every single time, they've tried. First when yahoo got it, then when it went to verizon, and then when they sold it to automattic. Now with the death of tumblr live, they're trying to do another rebrand.

Tumblr is one of the few remaining online spaces where we get the opportunity to truly curate our online space, and share and experience things in a way that can't be capitalised on. The concept of a tumblr influencer doesn't exist, because there's no advantage of it, there's no benefit of being an 'influencer'. But the only way we can keep this website around, is to keep using it as the way it was originally intended, in the way that other websites have not worked.

Likes on tumblr are not the same as likes on instagram or youtube, they don't really do anything! They don't help the creator, they don't help promote the post itself in any meaningful way, it's just a way to safekeep it for yourself later. And while that's a totally valid reason to want to like something, just as a reminder of something and a way to revisit a post later in the future, I would highly encourage everyone to try and reblog things as well!! Whether it's art of your favourite ship, whether it's a gifset of your favourite onscreen couple, whether it's a meta around a certain show, or whether it's discussions of the latest major current news event, the only way to truly circulate it and create a positive impact is by reblogging! The more people that get to see any given post, the better.

As an example, KOSA is becoming a thing again, and we're all being encouraged to act against it. I wouldn't have found out about KOSA if someone I follow hadn't reblogged it first, and then i reblogged it again. KOSA is one thing that could impact our online experience DRASTICALLY, and it's imperative that we spread the word about it - forewarned is forearmed, and only when we know about it can we take action against it, right?

I'm not saying this to try and promote this blog at all. I won't lie and say a few more reblogs on this blog here and there wouldn't be nice, but frankly at the end of the day my blog contributes little to nothing to the larger fandom discourse in the grand scheme of things. I'm saying this for everyone else out there. If you want tumblr to survive and thrive as our internet experience continues to evolve in the coming decade, keep using it as much as you can! Reblog anything and everything you can! Your one singular reblog can have a butterfly effect on a post. When you just like, the movement of the post stops there.

And tying into my blog (sorry lads, i'm only human and have to make it a little relevant for me as well 😭), if there's one type of post on the website you encounter anywhere that I strongly recommend you reblog, it's a poll. A poll only serves it's function if it reaches people who can actually vote on it, and we can only get a true reflection of the views of the masses when the most number of people get to participate in it. That's democracy, babey!

Anyways, that's my biannual rant. Back to your regularly scheduled programming, and see you in 6 months for the next big rant!

#i've tried to not make this blog particularly political bc that's for my main blog #but yeah this is also about palestine #it's about kosa too duh but idk if i wanted to mention palestine in the actual post body #if you have any sympathy for folks in palestine but don't have the means to actually help out in any tangible way #even just reblogging someone else's post could make a difference #bc it could allow someone else who DOES have the means to see it #knowledge is power and only works when we get to share that knowledge so that we all have that power #sorry for getting all passionate yall i have Feelings about this #anyways back to fics sdjfklsdjfsjd #not a fic rec #me #gentle reminder #reblog posts!! #also i know. i KNOW. this makes me sound so goddamn salty #call me out idc #i specifically wrote on the last poll 'please reblog after voting so that more people see the poll' #how many votes? 14. how many reblogs you ask? 0 #i mean. i know i've only just started this new thing but damn. nearly 4000 of you here and this is what we're doing? #makes me really question why i'm even trying to do this at all

[gourmet-trash]

i know i'm not the first person to say this, but i've been seeing more of it than usual lately so it feels like it bears repeating:

don't put things like "this is so bad" or "i suck at summaries" or "sorry this is terrible" in your fic tags or summaries.

even if you FEEL like what you've written is bad, don't advertise that! even if you think your summary isn't good, don't call that out! you are convincing people that's the truth before they have even been given a chance to make that decision for themselves!

something i learned in a few public speaking courses/workshops i've been in over the years that i find oddly relevant to this topic is: do not apologize. specifically if you're giving a presentation and you say something incorrectly or you skip a data point - don't apologize! when you notice it, just calmly correct yourself or go back and cover the point you missed. you shouldn't say "sorry" if you can avoid it.

why? because people don't NOTICE that you've flubbed a lot of the time UNTIL YOU CALL IT OUT. they don't even think twice about it unless you make a big deal out of it. but when you make a big deal out of it, then it becomes A Thing. then that's something people remember about your presentation.

when you highlight that something is wrong or needs to be apologized for, you're putting that frame around the situation. saying "this is bad" out the gate primes someone to agree with you. saying "this is OOC" tells someone to be looking for the things that are OOC that they may not have really noticed at first.

i know for a lot of people who are new to writing, getting some positive feedback or a little validation on their work is the thing that makes you want to KEEP WRITING. but tags like "this is awful" make a lot of people automatically scroll past your story. you are depriving yourself of the opportunity to get that motivation if you're shoving your readers away before they ever show up! and you're steering away people who may genuinely enjoy your work by convincing them before they've even started reading that it isn't worth their time.

stop fucking doing that, little writerlings.

and if you're REALLY worried about it?? you're REALLY afraid people are going to hate what you wrote and leave flames in the comment box (i am so fucking old)?? make a burner account. post that shit anonymously. you might be surprised by the feedback you actually get.

#i know there's also the whole 'if you don't like your work why would someone else' argument #which is valid in its own way! #but most of the time these tags and comments read like people who are just worried about what people will say about their fic #so they're trying to get ahead of the imagined insults #or they're fishing for someone to swoop in and go nooo it's great! #i think most of us writers have our fair share of joking-not-so-joking self degradation #but there's a difference between “why did i stay up until 3am writing THIS?” #or even “i'm not super happy with this chapter but i can't hold up the story anymore over it” #and “I SUCK THIS IS BAD DON'T EVEN BOTHER TO READ IT” #be gentle with yourselves little writerlings #i know it's my go to writing tag but i mean this: #writing is hard #don't make it harder than it already is by doing this stuff #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #writeblr #gourmet trash talk

[thatiranianphantom]

It's just so 😍 to me that Ace grew up with a Dad that was so hard on him and probably wanted him to be tough and a mom who was loving but never significantly seemed to stand up for him and he is the sweetest, gentlest most respectful little sugarplum ever I love him.

#Nancy Drew #Nancy Drew CW #Think about how his dad probably didn't want that in Ace #Like it seems they almost retconned Captain Thom in s4 #Because he was very hard on him before #Ace describes his house as a warzone #His dad KICKS HIM OUT FOR SOMETHING THAT WAS THOM'S FAULT #Like you can definitely see how his dad may have wanted him to be tough #But indeed he is a gentle little darling #Who is the most respectful of Nancy and all his friends #And I adore him #But someone make me an Ace origin story fic #ace [redacted]

[axel-ambassador]

Gwourtney AU where Gwen is a nail artist and Courtney is her most frequent client and they fall in love

#total drama #td gwen #total drama gwen #td courtney #total drama courtney #gwourtney #I was getting my nails done and then this idea just hit me #Gwen loves how soft Courtney's hands are #and Courtney loves how gentle Gwen is when she works #and they both liven up each other's day #td au #total drama au #I'm such a goddamn genius #Basically coffee au with extra steps #Someone turn this into a fic cuz I can't write for shit

[optiwashere]

I think I was destined to write trans Karlach/Shadowheart. This is one of those fics that jumps right into the explicit, technically, while still also being mostly about an emotional connection? I think it worked out in the end, you tell me.

Written for Kinktober Day 20: Frottage

Rating: E For Exploring boundaries consensually with gender affirming frotting (beautiful tbh)

Category: F/F

Ship: trans!Karlach/trans!Shadowheart

Tags and Summary under the break.

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Porn with Feelings, Trans Female Character, Trans Karlach, Trans Shadowheart, Frottage, Size Difference, Gender Affirmations, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Girl Penis, Pushing Boundaries Consensually but not really Edgeplay

Summary:

Karlach respects Shadowheart's wishes not to touch her like that, which makes it all the more confusing when Shadowheart very excitedly wants them to touch each other like that.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #karlach #karlach x shadowheart #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #anotheropti's kinktober 2023 #my fic #so yeah #I'm definitely of the mind that trans Shadowheart has some pretty intense bottom dysphoria #and probably would NOT like this very often #and probably only when it includes the kind of affirmations that Karlach does here #but like #shadowheart being so eager to explore what she told herself she could never enjoy because someone cares enough to affirm her boundaries #karlach being so gentle with her about it because she's afraid of losing shadowheart or just hurting her and stumbles into affirmations #like #yeah #give me that shit

[sharky857]

-- Regular Elliott stans: "Elliott is such precious malewife material, so sweet kind passionate he'll do everything for his S/O. A true cinnamon roll-flavoured Miette."

-- Me, writing a fic with some quite unsettling stuff in it: "Elliott can take full advantage of his 6 feet height to scare the ever-lovin' shish of whoever dares to bring hurty to his farmer. IDGAF if it's gonna be OOC, feckin' watch me, suckers."

#stardew valley #sdv #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #elliott stardew valley #stardew elliott #sharky's random thought #yes I'm writing another Elliott-farmer fic #SPOILERS ALERT! Nah. He won't punch anyone. #I hc elliott to be too kind at heart to bring harm to anyone intentionally like that. #On the other hand I too have embraced the ''elliott is a 6 ft gentle giant'' headcanon #and while he may NOT hurt anyone #I also hc him to use his mighty tall-ness for good and just flippin' loom over anyone with ''hostile intentions''. #Do you have any idea how terrifying it may be to have someone taller than you by one whole head giving you THE GLARE from up close? #(Someone in the fic is finding it out *cough*)

[thelegendaryfluffypotato13]

Me when I think about Gentle Flower:

*kicks my feet and giggles*

#is it vain to have your comfort fic be something YOU YOURSELF wrote about YOUR OWN oc’s? because uhhhhh haha #rereading my own fic a concerning amount of times hehe #someone restrain me they got me smiling and stuff as I read them in class instead of working #gentle flower #mod rants

[godsfavoritescientist]

Tbh? I still feel so out of my depth whenever I try to write Bill. For whatever reason it doesn't come naturally to me like writing Ford does. Every time one of y'all has thoughts on Bill's characterization or writes something Bill-centric I'm mentally taking so many notes

#godsrambles #im in that weird inbetween of knowing when his characterization Feels Right but not knowing how to write him so it feels right #its like that stage in art where your eye for good composition and colors and anatomy improves but you dont know how to actually apply it #what i should do is write some short scenes where he interacts with other people #because most of the fics I've written are 100% his internal thoughts when he is completely alone #which is way easier. takes away at least a few of the layers youd usually have to keep track of with this goddamn guy #the only one i can think of that had bill actually talking to someone else is parhelion. and i KNOW i slightly mischaracterized him in that #made him a lil too Smooth. made his manipulative front a lil too gentle and kind and patient #but since its from fords Very Reverent Rose Tinted Glasses perspective i dont think its that big a deal #and also the more i lean into him Seeming Perfect To Ford the more sinister it is to read with the knowledge of what happens later #which is. so much fun. and im so normal about it #but i still do want to get better at writing him interacting with others #ironically one issue that seems to come up is me being like 'whenever he talks to people they always respond exactly how he expects them to #like subconsicously. in the form of 'they get tricked successfully' or 'they are annoyed and bothered to the extent he was going for' #tfw you cant write a character bc you accidentally have the same innaccurate thought process as him #tags essay #TBH writing him as Too good at manipulation in parhelion is also billcore. #'this is how it happened right. im soooo good at trickery good job me' #if you count 'tricking yourself' then yeah bill youre the best at trickery there ever was

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Chapter 11

#divorce court au #ofmd #ofmd fic #stackedhands #gentle jizzed #I'm very sorry for taking this Spanish Jackie W and giving it to Izzy but I needed him to murder someone and Geraldo won't be missed

[silveringofrose]

Dear Jamie,

I've often marvelled at how stories are much like plants; they need the right time, the right place, and the right care to truly come to life. As I pen this letter, I want to give you the gift of our story as I've lived it, loved it, and cherished it.

That first day at Bly, amidst the sprawling manor and its winding mysteries. It felt like I was lost in a world far removed from my own. An American, away from everything familiar, facing two enigmatic children and their haunted home.

It was a whirlwind of strangeness until I saw you. You were, without a doubt, the first real breath of home I felt there. Which is strange considering you are the most British woman I've ever met. And yet, there you were. Making me feel like I was finally home.

We met properly in the garden, didn't we? I was struggling to grasp the bizarreness around me, teetering on the edge of a panic attack. You, with your green fingers and that soothing voice, So calm and nonchalant like you weren't watching me drown in the storm raging through me. You just casually pulled me back with two simple words, "Alright, Poppins?"

And that was it.

You, Jamie, became my anchor at that moment. A stranger who offered me a lifeline with such a warm, kind smile, I couldn't help but hold on to it. With every passing day, I found solace in the mundane.

My constant battle with the English way of making tea always brought an amused sparkle to your eyes. I don't think I will ever quite get it right, but it's the memory of your laughter I hold dear.

The day you told me about the moonflowers, I saw another side of you. The gardener who cultivated beauty in the darkness, who understood life's fleeting moments and embraced them. You saw something precious in those transient blooms, and that's when I started seeing you - truly seeing you.

The woman whose strength was rooted in softness, whose heart held an expansive universe that nurtured everything it touched. Much like those moonflowers, Jamie, you blossomed all uninvited and quietly determined in the darkness that was my life in those days.

I think it was the stillness in your eyes, the quiet understanding that prompted me to share my ghosts with you. Edmund... he haunted my dreams, but you... you brought me back, time and again. You didn't shy away from the storm that raged within me. Instead; you became my harbour, your love my guiding light.

Our first kiss, remember? It was awkward, clumsy, so perfectly imperfect. But then came the second one. Oh, Jamie, that one was magic. Every time I close my eyes, I can still feel the softness of your lips, the tenderness in your touch, the promise of an eternity in that one moment.

When we left Bly, it felt as if we were venturing into a new world. It was a whole new country for you, and for me it was a whole new life. Yet, there was an inexplicable comfort in knowing that we were stepping into it together. The sight of you in America, grappling with the nuances of this strange new land was endearing.

It was like watching a bud gradually bloom, adjusting and adapting, resilient and unyielding, just like the plants you so lovingly nurtured. And our little plant shop, that was our dream come to life, wasn't it? A sanctuary in the midst of life's whirlwind, a place where our love, much like the plants around us, took root and flourished.

Becoming your wife, that was the beginning of the best part of my life. It wasn't just about a ring or a piece of paper; it was a promise, a vow to love and cherish you always. To share in your joys and your sorrows, your victories and your struggles. Our marriage, Jamie, is more than a testament to our love—it's a celebration of it.

The sight of Miles and Flora, living their lives freely, unburdened by the shadows of Bly, brings a sense of bittersweet peace. We had a part in that, didn't we? We gave them a chance to escape, to live. Their happiness, their freedom, is a testament to our shared journey at Bly, a poignant reminder of the sacrifice made, and the love we found.

So, Jamie, as you read this letter, remember the story it tells. Remember our story. The shared sunrises and the moonlit talks, the laughter over morning tea, and the silent moments of shared understanding. Remember the way we danced around our feelings until we found the courage to confront them. Remember our journey, Jamie, remember our love.

In you, Jamie, I found my home, my solace, my heart. You taught me the beauty of living, of letting go of the past and embracing the present. You helped me see the world through a different lens, one that held beauty even in the darkest corners. You, Jamie, are my moonflower.

As I pen these final words, I want you to know that no matter where life takes us, no matter what roads we travel, I will always carry you with me. You will forever be a part of me, a part of my story, a part of my heart.

And remember, Jamie, even though we may not be always in the same place, our love will endure. For it is not bound by time or distance, but held together by memories, by moments, by a bond that defies the ordinary. Our love is our story, Jamie, and it's a story I wouldn't change for the world.

So this is not goodbye, although it might seem like it is by the time you read it. This is my promise that you will never be alone. That I am not gone. This is my I'll be waiting, and soon.

With all the love in my heart, always,

Dani

#please don't @ me about inconsistencies #I've never actually watched the show #but between tumblr #twitter #my friend #youtoube #and ao3 #I feel like I have a pretty good idea of their story #so anyways #this is my attempt at the goodbye that Dani never got to say to Jamie #this is also my first ever attempt at fan fic #so please be gentle #I hope I treated these women with the respect they deserve #it was never a ghost story #nor was it a love story #it was a moment of eternity #captured in too few years #Dani is the strongest bravest woman #just like someone else I know #the haunting of bly manor #thobm #jamie x dani #dani x jamie #dani clayton #jamie taylor #wlw #fan fic #silver writes fan fic #silver writes #SilveringOfRose