#hope this is okay :')

[helps-the-writing-brain-go]

⚡️In the Eye of the Tiger (Companion) 🐯⚡️

Tawny buries his head in the crook of Billy's neck and breathes in deep, committing his scent to memory.

The boy still smells of milk and powder under all that dirt, barely out of infancy if Tawny has anything to say about it; but fending for himself like a full-grown cub.

There's a burgeoning lice colony nesting in his hair and old blood under his fingernails and wafting off somewhere in the vicinity of his sleeves and tattered, too big jeans.

Scraped elbows and knees, most likely.

Untreated and stinging something fierce, most definitely, but the dear boy had said not a word.

"Do you need anything, little one?"

Tawny prompts his youngest charge yet.

Billy hunches in on himself, cradling the kittenish form to his chest and shakes his head.

Tawny rumbles disapproving, the thunderous sound made adorable by his new stature. Almost a purr really, which nearly elicits a smile from the boy.

"Are you hungry, perhaps?"

A shrug.

"Thirsty?" Tawny presses.

Another shrug, though Billy does lick his cracked lips, looking uncertain.

"Surely there is something-"

The magical tiger is soon cut off by a dual interruption in the way of a rumbling stomach, and a jaw cracking yawn quickly stifled in a faded, red sleeve.

Tawny grins like a cat that'd caught both the canary and gotten into the cream.

"A snack then, and then bed. There's a number of fine fabrics to make a comfortable den around, and oh, have I told you of the Cafe of Eternity? Just about everything you could think of to eat in there-"

Billy pulls himself to his feet at the feline's urging, gasping in surprise as Tawny leaps down, immediately growing in size beneath him till it is Billy sprawled on his massive, striped back.

His small fingers bury themselves in the tiger's thick fur, and Tawny allows himself a fanged smile out of Billy's eyeline as the boy curiosity kicks in and he begins to pipe in with questions on the Rock's facilities as Tawny pads his way through its winding tunnels.

Yes, he and the new Champion would be just fine.

[stuffandthangsandangelwings]

For Me ?

He can't help but smile looking at him.

" I can get whatever I want ?" He asked him curiously. "Is this a gift ?" He asked as he walked into the store with Kyle.

Steve's current clothes were alright but they weren't him. They didn't fit his style and to be honest---they were tight on his muscular frame.

The android hummed as he looked at the shirts. " Did you know my birthday is coming up ? Is that why we're shopping today?"

@willyoustilllovemeifimbroken

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve harrington follow on from this post

ao3

wc: 2.6k | rated: T | cw: description of a meltdown with semi aggressive stimms | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie and robin but this is about stevie), hurt/comfort, stobin soulmates, steddie, steve Harrington has shitty parents

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

he failed. he graduated. but he failed. those unsaid words between him and his parents. some get said. the bad ones, about him, they get said. over again like he’s 5 and being told is behaviour isn’t acceptable. that how he is isn’t right. ‘shape up or ship out’, basically. steve knows he can’t go anywhere new, not right now. only freshly recovered, physically at least. mentally; he’s still unacceptable. 

when steve works at scoops. it’s so fucking bright in there. so fucking bright, all day and he can’t focus and talking to people gets so much harder. it’s not like school where he can zone out in class and turn it on during lunch, in between, keep up his face with the people around him and sink back into his head during chemistry. no. now it’s all the time, customer after customer. that he has to talk to, put on a smile for, read so he gives them what they want and they leave happy. it’s exhausting. girls don’t like him anymore, they don’t react to him the same way. he doesn’t think he likes them much either though because they’re so much more annoying when it’s so fucking bright. 

but robin (robin who cycles to work with sunglasses on and doesn’t take them off till she has too) she turns the lights down during open and close. so those couple hours, it’s not so bad. not so stressful. a little bit less loud. 

after the mall burns down steve starts letting her in. tries too. she makes it obvious enough to him that she wants him there. she asks him to stay and calls him at night and he just wants to be enough for her. eventually he’d swallowed his pride and bolstered his courage and called her after a string of nightmares. asking her to stay the night. but then she was there, and it was like everything was thrown off. she was grating on his already freyed nerves but he didn’t know what to say. how to fix it without upsetting her. 

but that night, a mirror of the mall bathroom played out in steves en-suite. steve had freaked. hidden. but she didn’t leave. and he tried to explain. 

he needs her but he doesn’t know how to have her as a true friend. ‘i dunno how to talk to a girl if i don’t wanna date them. i uh, maybe, don’t really know how to talk to someone as myself. as a friend. sorry.’ 

‘well i don’t know how to talk to jocks so. same boat.’ and she has this glint in her eye. like she knows. and it’s okay. 

because robin, she made it simple. she makes it easy. she says just ask and she’ll be honest and give him a yes or no. she’ll say if she can’t be touched right now, or if the movie he chose is pissing her the fuck off. and she wants the same from him. if the music is too loud, if she needs to let him not speak for a while. wants him honest and present and real. real friends. someone close. finally. 

it’s rocky at first. she’s honest and he’s not used to it. it feel like criticism more often than not. makes him see red and lash out, like he was never able to with his parents. but he apologises and she stays. and he’s learning; that’s it’s okay, he’s not perfect and that means she’s knowing the real him. and she’s still his best friend even if he has to tell her to stop picking her nail polish off around him because it makes him want to die. and she laughs at him the first time she sees him in real recovery mode; hair not styled and he has on the only sweatshirt that ever feels good when he’s like this. 

they lay on the floor in darkness and silence. it’s perfect. they share a tin of soup and a grilled cheese. it’s perfect. 

being around robin as much as he is, its so new, having someone see so many parts of you. sometimes she laughs at him asking steve ‘why’d your voice change?’ but steve didn’t even know it had. he was, he was just talking to someone else quick, being nice like you’re supposed to, attentive to make them feel good. he didn’t know his voice changed that much. 

‘girls would like you more if you talked normal to them. how you do to me.’ 

steve swallowed thickly. he just. he just doesn’t know that thats true. nancy left, he talked to her about lots of things, too many things. she like him better at the start. before some of his black tar innards spilled out. before he freaked. before he was able to paste himself back together and she saw him for what he really is. 

he thinks of his parents. how they don’t know him and still don’t like him. anxiety prickles at his fingertips at the thought of those times they do come home. 

because with them there the routine he’s carved for himself, those quiet moments of darkness that he so craves. they’re gone. now it’s tv static and plates clanging and having to show his face at dinner again. but he’s not ten anymore. now he’s an adult whose still drowning in the tension of the room, never able to say what’s really going on, never allowed to ask how they really feel, never taught how to figure his feeling out. no listening ear for steve as a child, and the ice only grew thicker with time. 

it’s his skin itching at his mother stirring her tea across the house, spoon agains porcelain. it’s the hair on the back of his neck standing up at the sound of ice clinking in his fathers scotch glass. it’s triggered memories playing over and over again. it’s being plagued, by ghosts who haunt him, who left but come back every so often, like poltergeists. polietgists with the deed to the house, and ownership over steve, through blood and fear alone. 

‘when they get back you come to mine steve yeah? you come home.’

because now theres not just robin. there’s eddie. 

he sees everything. and more. even when steve’s trying to hide. eddie sees. 

he noticed steve squinting at the hospital and asked the nurse to turn the lights down. he saw how he started zoning out at a diner with the kids, their arguing reaching a pitch, asked steve to keep him company for a smoke break. once they were outside eddie said he just needed a moment, ‘those kids can be animals’. said it and looked a him like he didn’t need an answer, let steve just breathe a focus on the sound of the wind. 

it’s like there’s a million tiny moments, a million tiny cracks in him forming the more he’s around eddie. like his soft underbelly is mewling any time he’s around, wanting attention, wanting to let eddie see. let eddie touch. 

eddie used to look at him sometimes, across the lunch hall. stare at him with an expression steve couldn’t really make sense of. he used to think it was judgment, annoyance. now he wonders if that face was confusion or interest. maybe eddie’s always been trying to figure steve out. 

once it starts. them. eddie’s everywhere. more somehow, maybe, than robin because, you know, they go there. but it’s different, from those time, with those girls. instead now he’s there and his brains off and on in a, like, magical way. a new way that makes him feel whole and, and beautiful. 

this thing they have. it’s fragile. it’s not perfect. he messes up, takes him a moment to grasp how eddie can be so so himself, always, no matter what. especially when it causes him problems. ‘why not just try and fit in?’ but the stone faced reply told steve that was the wrong thing to say, he didn’t get it but he needed to respect it. respect eddie and his choices. ‘i’m not like you steve, even if my brain shit was all gone i’d still be poor, i’d still be othered. still be a gay weirdo little freak.’ 

and steve is trying to get it. he’s learning to recognise that it’s sadness and confusion in eddie’s eyes when he visits him at work, knowing steve is having a bad day and watching him pretend. watching that mask form thick and fast, hiding the real him, protecting but also keeping everyone far far away. steve thinks maybe they’re living parallels. finding different ways to survive. neither better, neither worse. both far from perfect. 

then that pinched sadness in eddie’s eyes. watching steve pretend. cover up. that damn breaks eventually. eddie sees all of him and more. those bits he always kept locked inside. between he and himself. it all comes spilling out. 

they were supposed to be going out soon. but eddie wasn’t feeling it anymore ‘let’s just stay here, be cozy a little longer. what do you say, sweetheart?’ it does sound nice. steves so tired. but they decided. they had a plan. 

‘we said we would. and i have to buy that thing eddie. we had a plan. and i have to go to work later, so we have to do it before. like we said and then i have to work eddie.’ and before he knows it there’s tears prickling his eyes and the ceiling fan is so loud and the desk lamp is too bright and he smacks a fist to the top of his head and it hurts a little but he’s so frustrated and so overwhelmed and so confused and embarrassed, suddenly. and he can’t breath. why can’t he breath? they had a plan. 

they were supposed to go see hopper and pick something up and he has to talk to him and ask about the game because he needs hopper to like him because it’s better when el can come when all the kids hangout. it’s important that she’s happy so hopper needs to trust steve so steve was going to talk to him today and pick something up. it was the plan. hopper makes him nervous but that was the plan. and then he had to go to work. but now he can’t breathe and he feels like he needs something to hurt. 

‘but he already trusts you with el stevie. hop trusts you with anything.’ 

‘i can’t know that. not for sure. when i talk to him it needs to be perfect.’ steve paces. a pinch at his arm. a tug at his hair. pivot. pace. repeat. 

‘i heard what he said to you steve, on your birthday, he was calling you son all day. you don’t need to prove anything to him.’ 

‘i do eddie! you don’t understand. people, they lie. adults lie. they don’t say things the way they mean. i can’t fuck up talking to him. not like i always fuck up talking to my parents. i need to do it better. do it differently. because everyone always leaves. and i just don’t want to be alone again.’ and the tears really start to fall and steve can barely breath and he’s so embarrassed. shaking hands try and cover his face but the tears slip through. 

and all he can think about is the plan. going to work. his vest hanging by the door. the way the plastic tapes feel in his hands. the smell of the bleach they mop the back room with. the day stretches before him. so many things in the way. so much anxiety still to come. if he can’t start, it can’t end. he gnaws at his lip. thumps a hand to his chest, trying to breath right, trying to ground. 

‘i have to go to work’ he mutters. like a prayer. speak it in to happening. taking him away from the now. thump thump thump at his chest. ear ringing. 

eddie’s holding his arms out, giving steve the option. he speaks so calmly, so earnest. ‘you can’t go to work steve. not like this baby.’

steve rounds on him. angry. when did everything get so messed up? if he was just left alone. he should’ve stayed on his own. ‘i cant just call in sick eddie! i’m not sick and and i hate the way they’ll sound when i say it over the phone and knowing what they’ll be thinking about me. they’ll know i hate the job and think i’m lazy and realise how stupid and useless i am and fire me. i can’t afford to get fired eddie. i’d rather just go in.’ he know it comes out garbled, his cheeks on fire. 

‘i’m not letting you go in steve. i’ll sort it. i’ll go pick up robin before and she’ll cover for you, she’ll explain. and she would never. ever think that of you.’ eddie’s voice dropped octave. he speaks clearly and plainly and finally there’s a new plan to follow. a new rule for the day. 

and all steve can do is curl up in a ball and sob. curl up in a ball against eddie chest, in his arms, squeezing his t-shirt between his fingers. clenching his muscles tight, his teeth grinding together. grunting out some of the decade old scream, still stuck there but more visible to him now. 

until finally finally, he relaxes. spent and exhausted. too afraid to open his eyes and face the lamplight, face what could be in eddie’s expression. he drifts..

eventually he gets up, blows his nose and splashed water on his face, turns off all the lights and get back under the warm blanket. fills his lungs. sighs. whispers, ‘m’sorry’ 

‘don’t say that. there’s nothing to apologise for’ eddie’s so close, so warm. 

‘no one’s supposed to ever, see that.. it’s okay if you want to leave’ 

‘steve. why the fuck would i leave you right now?’ 

‘who’d wanna date someone who acts like that? it’s. it’s not good eddie. but, but it’s okay. i’m used to being alo-.’ 

‘please stop stevie. your breaking my heart here. i want to stay, i want to be here with you. i really really like you steve.’ and steve’s cheeks feel wet again. he feels flayed open and young, like a little kid who fell off the swings and everything is different suddenly. 

later later when eddie picks robin up from work she stalks in to where steve’s wrapped up on the couch. curls up into his side and exhales. she bites into his bicep. huffing a sad, annoyed little ‘dingus’ before grabbing his hand and fiddling with his fingers. 

steve feels his eyes prickle again. looking up at the ceiling he croaks out a small ‘sorry.’ for the day. for everything. for anything he can be. and everything he can’t. 

robin kneels on the sofa right next to him. growling a little and placing one of her hands at his sternum and the other at the same height on his back. like she’s forcing herself inside him, holding him together. her hands start to rub up and down quickly, frenzied and grounding for both of them. steve let’s his head hang. eyes closing at the sensation. he grunts. robin grunts back. 

eddie joins. sitting at his other side. slipping a hand in steve’s hair, soothing his scalp with long scratching fingers. and steve humms, sighs, keens. eyes closed he drifts but not away from his body, instead into it. with gratitude, and warmth. at the centre of the two best things that ever happened to him. willing to try again. be just, better. never perfect. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt 3 snippet

a little happier for u @pearynice <3

ty @spectrum-spectre @vampyreddiemunson @fangirlycupcake @grandwretch for ur tags and additions, it was very inspiring

and tags for lovely @irethsune @willim-billiam-byerson @2jug2head

[phdmama]

Hey lovely, how about 43 from the smut dialogue list if you’re still looking for inspo - and maybe buddie as the ship? (I may have started reading a few fics and it might be about to become a problem…) but any ship that takes your fancy if you’re prefer!

Hello my dear pal!! I am so so excited you're reading some Buddie!! xox

I am so sorry this took this long to write (I've had some real rollercoaster ups and downs over the past few days with this silly broken leg bullshit). So anyway - here is where my brain went! (Keep in mind, I am lots of painkillers and have barely written in months!)

43. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Show My Mouth (Your Favorite Places)

Buddie, ~2300 words, Explicit tags: getting together, first time, Eddie Diaz has yet another close call, gratuitous use of italics, only lightly beta'd by me, set somewhere vaguely post season 7ish?

They’re barely through the door of Buck’s loft and Buck immediately has Eddie backed up against it, reaching out to run a hand over Eddie’s chest.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Eddie says again, and yeah, okay, it’s probably the tenth time he’s repeated the words but that was too close a call, and Buck says as much as Eddie tips his head back against the door, his eyes closed.

“Take your shirt off,” Buck says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s dirty and torn and Eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t even open his eyes, just lifts his arms and lets Buck pull the rough fabric over his head.

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask,” Eddie says and Buck freezes.

“I just. I need to see you’re okay,” he says finally, and Eddie just smiles. 

“Help yourself. I told you, the thing barely grazed me.”

Buck doesn’t answer, just flips on the light and runs his hands lightly over Eddie’s chest. There are some scrapes, a few spots that will probably bruise, but Buck has to admit Eddie is probably right, the damage is superficial. Buck doesn’t really pay attention to what his hands are doing, caught in the memory of the way the tree had come down and for one, brief, terrifying moment he’d thought… He’d thought. That’s all.

He’s still thinking, lost in it when Eddie says, his voice rough, “Buck.”

“What?” Buck startles back to the moment and realizes he’s been, well. 

He’s been gently stroking Eddie’s bare chest, and Eddie’s eyes are open now, dark and intense, fixed on Buck’s face. His skin is slightly goosebumped and his nipples are tight buds on his broad chest. Buck rips his gaze away and swallows, his throat dry.

He’s worked so hard to just be chill, is the thing. After he and Tommy broke up (no real drama, just Tommy gently letting him down), Buck has been so, well. Aware of men, is the thing. Men in general and one man in particular. Buck knows he’s been weird about Eddie from the very beginning, and he knows Eddie is just as weird about him, and there have been moments where he’s thought… maybe… but he’s never been sure. Never seen a look on Eddie’s face like the one currently leveled at him.

“Are you, um. Are you cold?” he whispers and Eddie’s mouth curves.

“Not even a bit,” Eddie says, and his voice is so low and gravelly, it legitimately sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.

“Are you in pain?”

Eddie just shakes his head, not breaking his gaze. 

“I, just.” Buck’s heart is pounding. It feels like an avalanche in his chest, and under his hands, he can feel Eddie’s heart racing, just as fast. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice pleading, although he doesn’t even know what it is he’s asking for. 

Eddie knows though, the way Eddie always knows.

Eddie simply replies, “Buck,” and then lays one hand over one of Buck’s where it’s still resting on his bare skin. 

For one brief, agonizing moment, Buck worries that Eddie is pushing his hand away, but it immediately becomes clear that's not what’s happening. Eddie is not pushing Buck’s hand away, he’s pushing it down. Eddie slides Buck’s hand down over his own toned abdomen, slowly enough that Buck can feel the expansion as Eddie takes a deep breath, and then, oh god. Then he shifts Buck’s hand even lower to where he’s hard in his LAFD sweats.

Buck stares at him as Eddie presses his hand to the hard length of him under the rough cotton. “Eddie,” he whispers.

“I’m not cold,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m not in pain. I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“Then what,” Buck swallows. “What do you need?”

Eddie just grins, and he lifts the hand that’s not pressing Buck’s against his cock to curve it around Buck’s face. 

“I think you know,” is all he says and Buck breaks.

He surges forward, tightening his fingers around the hard shaft under his hand as he pushes forward, his mouth landing on Eddie’s. Buck is frantic, gasping as he lets himself go, lets himself take what he’s been longing for for so long. He’s afraid that this might be his only chance, that if he takes his time, Eddie will change his mind.

But Eddie doesn’t seem inclined that way. He meets Buck in the middle, strength for strength, passion for passion, kiss for kiss, until he begins to gentle things between them. 

Eddie pulls back, and whispers, “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans back in and this time he sets the pace with deep, slow kisses, syrupy-sweet, until Buck thinks his knees might genuinely give out.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers and shifts, letting his mouth move over Buck’s face to his neck, a quick nip to the sensitive skin behind Buck’s ear that has Buck groaning and shaking. “Buck, baby. Let me take you to bed.”

“Too far,” Buck mumbles, turning his head to catch Eddie’s lips with his own. “Can’t wait.”

“Couch then,” Eddie insists and doesn’t stop kissing Buck, just gently herds him backwards through the apartment until Buck’s dropping onto his couch and pulling Eddie down with him.

For several moments, Buck doesn’t think about anything at all except the feel of Eddie’s chest against his own, the taste of Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hand in his hair as they kiss. He finally has to pull back to take a deep gasping breath, and just stares at Eddie over him.

“Is this… is this really happening?” Buck finds himself asking and Eddie grins, drops a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“It is if you want it to be.”

Buck just blinks at him. “I didn’t know. How did I not know you wanted this?”

Eddie shrugs, shifts his weight off of Buck so he can pull Buck up to sitting. “Let’s just say… when you started dating Tommy, I figured a few things out.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Of course not, Buck. You and Tommy, well. You were happy. Having fun. I didn’t think this was possible, but then when you guys broke up, and we were back to hanging out all the time. I started to think that maybe…” his voice trails off as he hooks his fingers under the hem of Buck’s t-shirt and starts to remove it. 

Buck automatically lifts his arms. “Have you ever… with a guy?”

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head. “Never let myself even think about it when I was young, and then. I guess it was just never the right time. Until now.” He lifts his hand, brushes his knuckles across Buck’s cheekbone, skates his hand down to curl it around Buck’s jaw. “I want to, though. With you, if you want that.”

Buck stares at him. “If I want that? Eddie. Of course I want that. I just. What does it mean?”

Eddie leans in, kisses him once and then again. He feels so good that Buck can’t help but groan as Eddie’s mouth moves to his collar bones as he slowly pushes Buck down onto his back, slides between his legs.

Eddie lifts his head after pressing one last kiss to Buck’s chest. “It means whatever you want,” he says finally.

“But,” Buck is compelled to ask, “what if it changes everything?”

Eddie laughs, low and rough. “Of course it’ll change everything, Buck, and I want that. I don’t think it’ll take anything away though. It’s just another way for me to love you, and I already do, so…”

He pauses and Buck grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Up, up, up here now,” he says frantically, suddenly sure that if he can’t kiss Eddie immediately, he may genuinely die.

Eddie snickers and Buck realizes he’s said that last part out loud. Then Eddie’s mouth is back on him, and Buck stops thinking at all.

He’s aware that this is Eddie’s first time with a guy (and holy hell, that’s a thought so hot that Buck’s brain might melt out of his ears) but there’s nothing in the way Eddie’s moving against him that suggests any hesitation about what they're doing. He lines them up, hard cocks pressed together, both of them still in their sweatpants, and sets up a slow, filthy grind. It’s good, so fucking good, that all Buck can do is wrap his legs around Eddie, grab onto his shoulders, and hold on.

Eddie’s kissing him again, those same deep, slow kisses, his tongue fucking into Buck’s mouth in counterpart to the way their bodies are moving together. Buck’s got his hands firmly planted on Eddie’s ass now, and it’s just as spectacular as Buck always thought it would be, especially with Eddie gasping into his mouth, sexy punched out groans that bring Buck closer and closer to the edge.

“How do you…” Buck starts and then shudders at a particularly innovative shift of Eddie’s hips. “Eddie, fuck, how…”

“How what, babe?” Eddie whispers against his lips, not letting up on the way he’s rolling his hips for even a moment.

“How do you want to come?” Buck finally grits out, holding on by sheer force of will now.

The question seems to surprise Eddie and he eases up now, rocking his hips so slowly as he considers Buck’s face.

“I mean,” Eddie says and then a wicked grin crosses his face. “You’re the expert here, Buckley. Walk me through it. What are the options?”

Buck stares up at Eddie and then can’t help himself, starts to laugh, deep belly laughs as his head drops back onto the couch cushions. “Not an expert,” he gasps finally, and sweeps his hands from where they’re resting on Eddie’s shoulders down his arms to his wrists and then back up again, to link his fingers behind Eddie’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Journeyman at best.”

Eddie is still grinning and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Fine. Journeyman. Whatever.”

Buck kisses him again, reaches down to grab Eddie’s hips and pulls them flush to his own, before working his way down Eddie’s neck.

“Lots of options,” he mumbles into Eddie’s collar bones. 

Eddie is grinding against Buck harder now, gasping, and Buck can taste the sweat on Eddie’s chest under his tongue. 

“We can keep doing this,” Buck manages to say and then groans at the way Eddie feels. “Fuck, that’s so. Oh my god, Eddie.”

“What else?” Eddie pants.

“I could… oh shit, Eddie, I could.” Buck swallows, his own breathing ragged in his ears. “I could suck you, jerk you off, whatever you want. You could fuck me,” and Eddie goes rigid above him, head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief as he lets out the sexiest sound Buck has ever heard, and Buck feels Eddie’s cock jerk as he starts to come.

For a long moment, the silence in the room is broken by the harsh sounds of Eddie’s breathing. Then Eddie opens his eyes, and the look on his face cracks Buck’s heart wide open. Eddie looks astonished, awed almost, as if his entire worldview has been shaken, and maybe it has, Buck thinks, remembering some of his own recent revelations. Maybe it has.

Eddie stares down at Buck as his breathing starts to settle, and the weight of him pressing Buck into the couch is as intoxicating as it is reassuring. There’s something so raw and honest about this moment — the way Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Buck’s face, the damp heat between them, the smell of sex intermingled with the scent of the peonies Buck bought at the Farmer’s Market the other day. Buck feels like every sense he has, and maybe some he didn’t even know about, are dialed all the way in.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes and his smile makes Buck’s throat tighten and his eyes prickle suspiciously. “My god, Buck.”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss across Buck’s lips, gentle and sweet, but as he does so, the extra pressure on Buck’s aching cock makes him hiss, his hips jerking up not of his volition.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie says, and without further ado, slides down Buck’s body and sticks his hand down Buck’s pants.

It doesn’t take long after that. Objectively, it’s nowhere near the best handjob Buck’s ever had — Eddie’s hand is dry, his grip a bit too tight, and his rhythm isn’t great, but none of that matters because it’s Eddie staring down at him, Eddie whispering things like “God, Buck, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart, c’mon baby, give it to me,” and Buck is helpless to do anything but obey.

It feels to Buck like his orgasm is being drawn out from the very depths of his being, starting deep in his belly and rolling over him like the tide, inevitable and inexorable. Eddie keeps muttering words of encouragement, and when Buck’s head tilts back and his back arches, Eddie grins in satisfaction.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

It turns out Eddie is mistaken. They clean up, make some dinner, collapse on the couch with their food and beers, and it’s no different than any other normal post-shift hangout. In the morning, Eddie good-naturedly submits to the ice packs Buck presses against his bruises, lets Buck make him coffee and bring it to him on the couch. No different from any other close call aftermath.

But Eddie’s never spent the night at Buck’s like that. Never brushed his teeth side by side with Buck before crawling into bed, wrapping himself around Buck like an octopus, the bare skin of his chest pressed to Buck’s back, his hand resting possessively on Buck’s hip. He’s never brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of Buck’s neck. And he’s never said I love you quite like this before. So yeah, it turns out that he was also 100% correct. It changes everything.

And it’s amazing.

[patrickoharaandco]

Cygnus Dolohov walked into the chamber where he knew he'd find his wife. Initially she hadn't been so receptive to him but he'd managed to bring her around. He'd gifted her lots of pretty, if partly see-through dresses for her to wear.

He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck teasingly. "Hello my love." He whispered into her ear as he pulled her body close to his own.

@vintagemoss

[nooneherebutaghost]

I think he knows what you're looking at, Casey.

I saw this post by @foxslightsaber and had to doodle something silly with it. Thank you for the inspiration lmao

[whump-in-the-closet]

Hear me out, I’m pretty sure we all heard of hypnotist whumper, but hypnotist caretaker? Yeah, thats it.

TYPE SHIT

Whumpee begged. For the first time in weeks, they begged. They were home, they were safe, they-- alarm bells went off in their head-- they were not safe.

"Please, Caretaker!" They forced themselves under the table, the carpet scratching at their knees and the confined space suddenly constricting. Their pleading was a whisper, low and caught in their throat, "Please, please--"

Caretaker's shoes stopped at the table. He sighed. In a soft voice, as if talking to a cornered animal, he said, "You need to take your medication, Whumpee. You're...you're not well."

"No."

"Let me help, Whumpee."

Whumpee remained where they were. "I thought I could trust you--" their words were broken off by a coughing fit, leaving their head ringing and everything swimming swimming swimming...

Caretaker crouched down.

Through the blurring, Whumpee could make out his dark eyes, pitted with exhaustion and faintly annoyed. In Caretaker's calloused hand was a bright orange bottle. Whumpee's name was on the label.

Whumpee shrank back.

Caretaker sighed again. "Whumpee, look at me."

Whumpee didn't notice him drawing a small pocket watch out of his faded jeans.

Their vision flailed outwards, fracturing, like a piece of starfish broken off.

Tick, tock

Caretaker started to swing their pocket watch back and forth, the clock hands steady inside the white case.

Tick, tock, tick--

Time slowed into a strange, honey-like state. Everything blurred away, except the pocket watch and the ticking hands.

Whumpee's panic faded, worked into the batter of time and starry vision. Whumpee didn't really feel anything--

just faintly quiet

tick

A city night quiet, with neon laughter and buzzing lights

"That's it, look at the watch,"

tock

A country road quiet, with Whumpee in the trunk of the car and the duct tape suffocating.

"Here are your meds. Take them."

tick

tock

A basement quiet, with concrete walls and deafening grey all around...the pressure building into silence.

"I'm sorry."

[melemeleguardian]

@viciousrocket liked for a pinned starter

You know, maybe one of these days Koko should have some sort of security system to alert him about visitors to his temple. Since, once again, Koko found another person in the Ruins, poking around.

Really, what was he expecting? This was the only temple that was open to the general public. Although, there was only one path to the temple and you needed to go through Ikki town. So if anyone strange came around they would have been stopped there. Really it was probably just the paranoia talk.

Alright, let's see who was visiting him this time. A rather large man and quite handsome actually. He seemed to be studying the ruins thoroughly too? Could he be some sort of historian? Well, either way, it doesn't look like he was going to he did seem to be here to cause trouble. So, let's see what he wants.

"Hey! If you're looking for Tapu Koko, I'm pretty sure he's out on patrol right now."

Well, he was until a little while ago.

[rosey-mango]

Got a request for 2012 Mikey attempting Kamehameha.

He's trying his best XD

[plulp]

im so glad we all agree avery has white hairs

[stimming-puppet]

Jerry T. Stokes stimboard with DnD dice, forest, board games and hand flapping stims for @chickensystem x/x/x|x/x|x/x/x

[coldxxwinter]

Closed starter: @ritualove Location: Winter's house

Standing at one of his hives, Winter replaced the last frame, having just finished harvesting some of the honey and beeswax. His family had a sprawling backyard, so he had been able to plant different flowers and such all around so as to get different types of honey, and this particular one was near a patch of wildflowers. Some thought the differences in flavor were subtle and hard to detect, but Winter had gotten quite skilled at it. That made sense though because he had been eating honey for as long as he could remember, long before he had even started beekeeping, and his dad had taught him a lot. He was like whatever the honey version of a sommelier was, and Winter had learned so much from him. Thinking about his dad caused a twinge of sadness inside Winter. It wasn't like his dad - or his mom for that matter - were dead, but they hadn't been home in awhile, and he missed them. But Winter had his bees at least. He rarely even wore a beekeeper's suit anymore unless they seemed especially feisty, and today was the same, Winter just outside in a sweater and jeans as he went about with his beekeeping duties. Everything felt so peaceful out here, and nothing seemed as bad as when he was with his bees. Luckily the accident hadn't erased Winter's ability to care for them in the slighest.

Alas, there were ways the accident had had a strong effect on Winter, and chief among them were his memory. So when he heard a car pulling up his driveway, Winter groaned because he realized he'd forgotten something. Of course he had, he always did. At least he was done with his beekeeping for the day, so he whispered a goodbye to the bees, and then Winter rushed inside to greet Annette at the door. It had been his idea to hang out too, he remembered that now, and Winter was mad at himself for forgetting.

[welcometothevale]

@continuingthefamilyname send 😖 (Myra and Cameron)

😖 My muse feels guilty after accidentally hurting your muse

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" She got to him in three strides. She'd disposed of the vampire that thought it was a good idea to mess with her. Some of them found her to try and kill her for the reputation boost amongst vampires. And she'd gotten Cameron hurt because of it.

"Um, here." She tore her usual black tank top off and wrapped it around his forearm where she'd accidentally cut him while going after the vamp. "Are you okay? We need to get you to a doctor." He'd been kept from this kind of dangerous life, and she brought trouble to him. Maybe it was time to get out of town. She'd already gotten rid of the nest here, but she'd stuck around because Cameron with nice. His family was nice.

[rentsturner]

blurb about a rough punishment? your choice xx

god there’s so many things I could do for this

With punishment, I think Alex is usually quite playful, doesn’t give you really serious punishments unless he’s really pissed. Yeah, you get spanked pretty often for teasing him, there’s a lot of edging and denial, but it’s never much worse than that. But that’s when Alex is in a good mood. When he’s in a bad mood, well that’s different.

Maybe you flirted with someone else at a bar, ignored Alex all night just to talk to some random guy, knowing it would rile him up and wanting to find out what Alex has in store for you. And it worked. Alex is angry, really pissed, his eyes dark, his gaze only on you and your poor target all night.

You can tell he’s angry on the drive home from the way he doesn’t say a word, just grips the gear stick with white knuckles. He hadn’t even said goodbye to anyone at the party, just grabbed your waist at midnight on the dot and practically dragged you to the car.

Now you’re kneeling naked on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Alex crouches behind you, his long fingers tying your arms securely with loops of rope. He yanks your hair back harshly, pressing his lips close to your ear.

“Such a fucking brat. Flirting with that guy all night, right in front of me, little slut.”

You moan at his words, almost ashamed at how the names make you wet, Alex’s deep voice angry in your ear.

“Al, please…” you can’t help but moan, craving his touch. But he just laughs.

“Oh? You want me now do you? Well too bad. You aren’t getting any pleasure tonight. Nah. I’m just gonna use you.”

He strides round so he’s stood in front of you and you look up at him, his eyes dark, mouth curling into a mean smirk, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. He takes your face in his hands, stroking your cheek gently. Then he unbuckles his belt, undoes his zip and takes out his cock, pumping it right in front of your face.

“Open.”

He taps the head of his cock on your lips, pushing it past them as you open your mouth eagerly. Usually he starts off slow, lets your throat get used to the stretch, but not today. One hand cups the back of your head, the other pulling your chin down to open your mouth wider as he fucks harshly into your mouth. His tip brushes the back of your throat and you gag around him, but he doesn’t relent, pistoning his hips back and forth until you’re drooling down your own chest.

All you can taste, smell, feel is Alex. The hot weight of him on your tongue, his musky smell, his pubes tickling your nose, his grip tight on your hair, his deep groans whenever his tip slips past the back of your throat. You can tell he’s close by the way his cock begins to twitch in your mouth and you close your eyes, waiting for his load to spurt down your throat. But instead, he suddenly moves away, pulling out of your mouth, pumping himself roughly.

You watch him, wide-eyed, drool dripping from your chin, as he throws his head back in pleasure, twisting his wrist and cumming all over your chest.

“M-mine.” He pants, admiring the way his cum paints your skin.

Then he tucks himself back into his trousers, tidying himself up and shrugging his suit jacket back on. You whine as he grabs his car keys and walks towards the door.

“Al, no, wait-“

“Sorry, darling. I realised i never said my goodbyes at the party. I think I’ll go back for a few hours, spend a bit more time there. You’ll have to stay here, since you obviously aren’t well behaved enough to come with me.”

“But, Al, you can’t just leave me like this.”

“Oh I can. And I will. Maybe if I’m feeling nice when I get back, I might untie you before I go to bed. How does that sound?”

[noahspaperairplane]

Noah. There's a cat. Right there. Go boop it *points at the floofiest cat you'll ever see*

[patrickoharaandco]

Vader's Pet Apprentice (closed starter)

Darth Vader; the Emperor's fist. The man who had slain more Jedi than anybody else, stood as the doors of the shuttlecraft opened; he had come to collect his Apprentice. She was trained as Jedi Assassin and as such he felt she did not break The Rule of Two truly. No, she was a pawn, a useful asset; she was also his plaything. He had given her a mission on this planet and left her to it and now she had contacted him to tell of her success and request him to collect her.

@katarinawilliams