roy kent effect

they boutta bang

hello hello!! i am assuming you're looking for fic recs here, so ask and ye shall receive!! 🫶

here is a (non-exhaustive!!) list of some of my favorite fics that include dry humping and/or frottage :)

lip locked & loaded by rhodeys

skin to skin, i wanna take my time by @lacerta26

with you i'm a little bit found by @spaceshipkat

little did i know by @spaceshipkat

like a summer shower by @hyruling

eyes spying for your light by @hyruling

one look, dark room by @markofalover

more love streaming out the wrong way by excalipurr

the forms of things unknown by @glorious-spoon

please, please, please by @bookinit02

skin/heat/hair in your mouth by @shitouttabuck

in the back seat, windows up by @semperama

and then you happened by @littlefreakbuckley

desire driving his hands right into your body by excalipurr

maybe for the better by taegyungie

16) fingers scratching at a scalp

The lights are off in Buck's house.

It sends a pang through Eddie, even though it's objectively not an indicator that something is wrong. Electricity is expensive. Eddie took Theo out to kid's soccer to give Buck a break. Buck is probably just taking a long-needed nap.

Still, his mind conjures up images of shuttered windows, fake smiles, Buck sitting alone in the darkness, Eddie getting into his car and pretending that everything is fine. It makes his hands rush slightly to his jean pocket, pulling out his keys.

Chris frowns at him, at the jangle of metal. The darkness in the house. He remembers, too. "Is Buck sleeping, dad?"

Theo has one hand on Eddie's leg, the other snagged in Christopher's hem. "Naptime?" he asks.

Eddie forces a smile. "Maybe, bud," he says, to both of them. "Let's keep real quiet when we go inside, so we don't wake him, alright?"

Two curly-haired nods, and Eddie twists the key in the lock, turns the handle.

Inside, the house is cleaner than it has been for a while. Eddie feels a fission of exasperation when he clocks how much time it must've taken Buck to put everything back in place, on a day when he was meant to be resting. Still, Buck hasn't put away everything -- a faded set of Duplo that used to belong to Chris half-built on the table, a little blanket emblazoned with dinosaurs spread out on the couch, tucking in a stuffed deer with such tender care that Eddie feels a swell of emotion in his chest.

Theo gasps when he sees it: "Mr. Buck!" he squeals, and takes off to the couch, clambering on to peer at the stuffed animal. Eddie smiles a little, involuntary, at the moniker, remembering the wide-eyed look Buck'd had on his face when Theo named his toy in the Build-a-Bear. Theo looks at Chris: "Chris, Mr. Buck is napping!"

Chris gets to the couch at a more sedate rate, sitting beside Theo. "Cool, Theo," he says. "Maybe we should let him sleep, then. Wanna watch some minecraft videos?"

And maybe Eddie shouldn't be letting Buck's toddler get sucked into internet videos, but Buck hasn't run out to sweep Theo into his arms and ruffle Christopher's hair the instant they started speaking, and the anxiety is rising to a fever-pitch inside of him. He nods at Chris and Theo, who are already absorbed around Christopher's tablet, and walks deeper into the house.

The bedroom door is cracked, and Eddie pushes it open gently. Inside: a bundle on the bed, a tuft of curls poking out from the sheets. Eddie's chest eases for a moment, before he walks closer and sees the sheen of sweat on Buck's forehead.

"Oh, Buck," the murmur falls from his lips gently, without thought. A shift, a flutter of lashes, then thin stripes of blue.

"Wha'...Eddie...?" Buck's voice is a rasp, his eyes squinted. A blink, then they go wide. "Eddie-- Theo? Chris?"

His limbs go askew as he whips up, and Eddie catches him by the shoulder as he lurches dangerously, a hand falling on Eddie's shoulder and holding tight. With his face fully visible, Eddie can see the dark shadows under his eyes, the pale tremor of his lips. He can also feel the heat from his body, thick and unnatural.

"Hey, hey," he says, holding Buck up gently. A hand on his shoulder, another at his waist, feeling the damp sweat cooling on cotton. "They're alright, they're in the living room."

"I should--" Buck blinks at him, half-dazed. "Dinner--"

"No way, Buckley," Eddie says, sweeping a thumb over his shoulder. "You should've texted when you realized you weren't feeling well."

"Thought--" Buck coughs, a rattling thing, and Eddie's hand sweeps down to his back. He eases himself down on the mattress, remembering the last time he was here. It's better, this time, even though it hurts the same to see Buck unwell. "Thought that I was just, just tired."

"Well, you have a fever," Eddie informs him, as if Buck can't feel the illness through his own body. "Doesn't feel too bad, but you shouldn't be getting out of bed."

"But..." Buck looks at him forlornly. "The kids..."

Something twists, soft and affectionate, at the phrasing. "I'll get them takeout. Theo'll be over the moon at pizza."

"Get--" another cough. "-- get some veggies. Gotta eat healthy." a sneeze. "Chris, too. A salad. Growing teen."

This man. Eddie's other hand comes up from Buck's side of its own volition, sweeping through his curls, fingertips dragging along his sweaty scalp. Buck hums, leaning into it, and Eddie does it again, again, again.

"Feels nice," Buck murmurs, swaying slightly. Eddie tucks Buck into his arms, slowly folds him down back into the sheets. He pulls the sheets over Buck's shoulders, again. All the while, his hand lingers in Buck's hair, dragging through slow and rhythmic, watching Buck's eyes slowly blink, then fall shut.

"Sleep, Buck," Eddie murmurs. And because it's Buck, because he probably won't remember, because it probably means nothing in this small, liminal moment, Eddie presses his lips to the salt-sticky skin at Buck's birthmark briefly, cataloguing the taste of skin and salt.

He watches Buck for a beat longer, allows his hand to linger in his curls for a moment more, before slowly withdrawing his fingers, getting up, folding himself back into the shape he's supposed to be. He looks around, down at Buck, starts making a list in his mind.

He should get Buck a shower, a change of clothes, change his sheets, tuck away this new, fragile moment into the recesses of his mind. But-- later.

Right now, there are hungry kids to feed.

the idiot husband:

the righteous feral husband: