#ask for a buck

[ninjagocrohw]

collected the outfits ive actively designed for morro(not just slapped together without planning)

first one is his canon gi, colour corrected,

that i only ended up using in his initial arrival pages of @juniorjago oops lol. Ill probably use it for flashback stuff to morros babby years

second one is what i designed for him to wear in the post where he apologises to the kids for being a shit

third one is a failed design(yay!) where it was meant to be just. some clothes he threw on, but it looked too. formal? worky? so sCREW IT. he gets a new gi at some point in juniorjago! The fourth is what i ended up going with for this next arc that will EVENTUALLY come about.

[watchyourbuck]

No im not “grieving” Buddie, do you know how amazing it is to have queer/bisexual men representation in today’s media? Do you know how important it is for all of the community and the younger people watching this? This is a huge milestone and Buck’s sexuality is valid outside of any type of ship. Today we celebrate.

[captain-flint]

Tommy 'my priority is Evan' Kinard

[ivegotyourbackbuddie]

I would love a classic scene of Eddie questioning if he’s straight or not, and Buck swooping in with a, “I wasn’t sure until Tommy kissed me, so maybe you just need a guy to kiss you.”

Of course, Eddie would look right at Buck and ask, “Do you know anyone offering?”

And Buck, thumb hooked in his belt, chest out, would walk up to Eddie and say, “I think I do.”

Only for Chimney to interrupt the moment and yell, “Alright! Pucker up, buttercup. They don’t call me Mr. April for nothing!”

[louferrignojrofficial]

tommy's face is killing me... he's like you have no idea. but they all have an idea

[sharpbutsoft]

Local firefighter says he loves his best friend “a regular amount”

[missusruin]

body-horror space cat; OC drawing commission for @/RealmOfMin on twitter

[cranberrymoons]

Buck’s brain says “wow Eddie is super hot” but then Chim and Hen next to him are saying Eddie is super hot and they’re not attracted to men so Eddie being hot just becomes an objective fact of life. Rather than an opinion. So Buck never has to interrogate himself as to whether there is a difference between Eddie being attractive and Buck being attracted to Eddie. Because everyone thinks Eddie is attractive. And Buck just assumes he falls into that category too. Because Eddie is the most beautiful man ever. And this is his curse

literally!!!!!! in a pivotal moment of genuine bisexual bluescreening over eddie’s hotness, the message buck got from everyone else was “wow that’s a hot person and im not even into guys” and buck said oh okay good :) phew nothing about myself to interrogate here! awesome <3 and has spent the past 7 years of his life thinking wow i’m so lucky to have a hot best friend that everyone knows and agrees is hot 🥰 water is wet, the sky is blue, and my normal best friend eddie is the hottest person i know 🫶

[punkitt-is-here]

what do u think about lemnoade

it has been a little over a week

[wenellyb]

I have to talk about this scene once again because I feel like there is so much to say.

What Buck meant when he said it was "exhausting":

First he asked Tommy for a tour because he wanted to get to know him better (his words, not mine).

At the end of the tour Buck asked Tommy out but it didn't work out ( Eddie arrived and Tommy left with him).

Instead of asking him out on another day or calling him, Buck did the most Buck thing ever by trying to find roundabout ways of seeing him again.

First, he tried the easy way, by trying to join Trivia night when Eddie mentionned he was seeing Tommy again, but Eddie asked him to babysit Chris instead.

So he went for a different approach by trying to get Eddie to invite him to the basketball game.

When that didn't work out, he got Chimney to invite him.

That's why Buck said that trying to get Tommy's was "exhausting", because it was. He set up so many ploys to get to spend time with Tommy and none of them worked.

That's also why Tommy is surprised, because he didn't see all the nonsense Buck was pulling to get to see him. Tommy really thought this was about Eddie and Buck being afraid of losing his friend.

But if Buck had been trying to spend time with Eddie, all he had to do was ask.... they hang out all the time. The only times Buck is actively trying to join Eddie's plans is when he know Tommy will be joining.

Buck never behaved like he did when Eddie had plans with other people than Tommy.

I can't even blame Buck because this is exactly how I act when I have a crush😂

[theotherbuckley]

I am free

[b0bbynash]

[moonyslesbian]

there's only one thing brad could do that would make me stop resenting him for borrowing a huge amount of screentime from other main characters of the show and that is going up to buck right after a call and asking "so how long have you and the fit bloke there been dating?" while pointing to eddie in the back just doing his own thing. which obviously would lead to buck trying to hold his breath until he dies

[unrealisticlea]

what if next season Tommy and Buck are fighting about something and Buck spits out “well maybe your next boyfriend won’t be so *insert a random Buck’s insecurity here*” and Tommy is quiet for a few seconds and then in the calmest and most certain voice ever says “Evan. There’s no next boyfriend. I’ve known for a while and I’m not saying this to scare you or to pressure you but you should know. You’re it for me.”

[spacedace]

I love me some eldritch, incomprehensible ghost speak in fics, but in my heart ghost speak sounds like a theremin being played.

Like, it's one of those instruments that can sound so much *like* a human voice, and sound nothing like one all in the same song. It can make kind of chipping noises, it can make some truly horrifying sounds. It can be beautiful, it can be creepy, it's peak ghost speak to me

(Also just love the idea of people playing the theremin at ghosts to join the ghost speak convo being like the meme of when people meow to their cats, but like are saying "taxes" or "ketchup" in response to "hi" lol)

Anyway please juat imagine Danny & the other ghosts sounding like this while they talk/fight:

[jesuistrestriste]

Sage hear me out...

Divorced dilf art who calls his younger gf mommy

art stays cooped up in the house all day—everyday—when you’re out at your hot new job.

he thinks about all the guys your age who probably ogle you and try to make passes at you, not knowing that you’ve got a man pushing 40 waiting at home for you with dinner and a pair of warm, strong open arms.

sigh.

when you do get home, he’s there to greet you (as always). he walks over and holds you close; kissing your cheek, and then your lips and your neck. each one soft and sweet and attempting to wipe your mind of any flirtation from younger men that you may or may not have endured throughout the afternoon.

“hi,” he whispers, and you slide your fingertips down his lower back, making him tremble like a wet kitten.

“hey, baby,” you hum in return. you’re shorter than him, and so when he leans his weight into you his forehead naturally falls into your shoulder. he smells like warmth and outdated cologne and need.

he mouths at your neck in the next moment, his hands sliding to lovingly cup your waist, “i missed you so much.. can i have you now?” he breathes out, his voice shaking and pleading. you feel something thick and warm press into your hip from inside his sweatpants.

and you chuckle and shake your head. he bites his bottom lip to stifle a petulant whimper.

“i missed you too,” you nip at his ear, “but i need you to use your manners if you want something from me.”

he stiffens for a moment before he stumbles forward a bit, taking you with him and gently pushing your back up against the door. “i’m sorry.”

the apology spills from his lips with an earnest desire to make his obedience known. he’d never want to disappoint you. you’re all he has these days.

“can i… can i please have you now?”

a breath. a shake of your head. a rock of his hips against your body followed by a sorrowful, begging moan.

“no?” he shifts against you, his body aching for yours.

“you’re forgetting something, Art.”

it only takes a moment for him to process your words before he’s mumbling a slurry of “i’m so sorry”s into your neck. but apologies only go so far, don’t they? he needs to correct his behavior. he needs to show you that he knows what you want from him.

“please…” he whispers, “please, mommy..”

the honorific rolls off his tongue like honey, heavy and sweet. it hangs in the air between you two and then you let out a low chuckle, “much better.”

“mommy,” he breathes out again, his erection involuntarily pulsing against your body through his clothes, “mommy, mommy, mommy—ngh“

his tone grows more desperate with each mumbling of the word; higher in pitch and more urgent. your hands move up to stroke his short blonde hair, and then you whisper into his ear.

“what do you want?”

god, what doesn’t he want? he wants your hand down his pants, your perfect cunt wrapped around his unworthy cock, your mouth, your lips, your tits. everything.

but he knows you. he knows that this is a trick question. you’re phrasing it like you’re going to give him something, a treat—a reward, but it’s a bit of a trap.

there’s a right and a wrong answer here. pick the wrong one, and he’s in for a night of painful orgasm denial (coupled with a ruined one to end the evening).

but luckily, art is smart. he knows what you want to hear.

“i.. i wanna eat mommy out.”

you pull back gently from him; and judging by the look that spreads over your face when he says that, he picked the right response.

you smile, and then your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders. in an instant, art finds himself being pushed down to the floor in front of you. he can’t help but scoot forward and shove his boner against your ankle, rutting himself into your soft skin as he dribbles precome in his briefs.

you lean back against the door, hiking up your skirt, before you’re looking down to him expectantly.

“don’t make me do all the work, baby,” you practically purr.

art’s hands scramble up your thighs to your panties, which he peels off of your sticky core with wide eyes, letting the thin fabric garment fall to pool at your heels. you giggle.

you kick them off to the side, feeling your boyfriend’s hands clutched around your legs. you sling a leg over his left shoulder, spreading your folds for him to see, and he wastes no time in parting his lips and engulfing your heat with his mouth.

you groan, letting your head loll back, and you move your fingers—letting them wander to the back of his hair once more to push his face further against you. you grind on his eager tongue, feeling him flick it over your clit as he whimpers and suckles. what a slut.

his baby blues look up to you with weighted lids, lapping at your cunt like it’s something he’s been starved of for years. his pupils dilate intensely as he stares up at you like you’re a god; something holy and unreal. and when you shake over his mouth’s ministrations, getting close, he lets out a long, drawn-out whine into your core.

he’s murmuring something that sends vibrations up your spine from the coil deep in your gut. it’s hard to make anything out when he’s drowning in you and loving it, but you can decipher bits and pieces.

“please, mommy”

“come in my mouth, mommy”

“give it all to me, mommy”

“i can take it, mommy”

you’re everything he’s ever dreamt about. you bend his perception of time and space and reason and logic. how could a sweet, beautiful, young thing like you ever want a washed-up, older athlete like him?

he prays that you don’t only like him for his money, and then he closes his eyes and mouths at your sensitive bud. he drools all over it like a sick dog, his brows pinching up as he moans out incoherent pleas for you to finish.

and holy fuck, you come hard.

a strangled cry jolts out of you as your back arches, mixing with a helpless sob from art, and then you absolutely soak his tongue with your juices. it gushes all over his face and he swallows as fast as he can; hell, he nearly chokes on it.

“ffffuck! art! oh my god, good boy, good boy, such a good boy!”

you rock over him until your orgasm recedes, and you pull his head back from you shakily by your tender hold on his hair. strings of your slick cling to the lower half of his face and the tip of his nose; a lewd squelch echoing out as he’s forcefully disconnected from your body. a dazed smile graces your lips and you peer down to watch as art’s hips shake against the hardwood floor and a dark stain appears at the front of his sweats. it’s a pathetic sight, really.

but you watch him moan softly and keep his gaze trained on you as he wipes his chin messily with the back of his hand.

“was i good?” he whispers, like he’ll cry if you say no.

he needs to hear you say it when he’s not lost in the throes of your climax.

your chest is still heaving while you try to slow your labored breaths, but you lean down anyways and meet his lips with yours. you taste yourself on his tongue. he shudders and winces.

you pull back, your bottom lip brushing his.

“so good, baby..”

art kisses the corner of your mouth softly, just once. he’s melting into you.

he loves you. but he swallows that down for now. he opts to murmur out something that’ll sum up everything he feels in a more palatable manner. something that makes him seem less desperate to keep you all to himself for as long as you can tolerate him.

something that he’s earnestly dying to say.

something that he knows you deserve to hear.

“thank you.”