#it is a birthday gift to myself to write it

[soleillunne]

Tag Game!!

I thought it'd be fun to make a tag game for everyone, so here's my version!!

alongside this picrew, and 2 pictures you think describes you, answer some questions about yourself.

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

i'll go first

I'm Alyssa!

What’s something you’re really passionate about, and how did you discover it?

Mythology! I've been super into mythology in general since I was in middle school, and i can just talk about it for hours. I first discovered it when my friend forced me to read Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson series, and it spiraled from there.

What’s your favorite way to spend a weekend or free time?

Most of the time I have to take extra classes during weekends, but other than that I read whenever I can! Be it a physical copy, a pdf or even fanfiction I spend most of my time reading. But when I can find some time for myself I either write or make bracelets. Sometimes I work on my ocs' lore with my friend, so it really depends on how busy I am at that moment.

What’s a piece of advice or a quote that has stuck with you over the years?

My mom once told me "If someone isn't willing to value you or your efforts, don't waste your time on them. Don't give your all to people who won't do the same." And while it sounds mean at first, it's actually helped me over the years.

What’s your go-to comfort food or drink when you’re feeling down? (Bonus points if you can give a recipe)

Sütlaç has been one of my top comfort foods for years now. It's a Turkish dessert made with rice, milk and sugar (and cinnamon, honey or nuts if i'm feeling fancy) Though sometimes i make cookies instead!

What’s the most meaningful gift you’ve ever given or received?

I made over 300 paper stars in a sitting for my friend, each star representing a day i'd have known her on her birthday. I chose paper stars because they meant a lot to her. I also got her a (plastic) rose because she told me she thought she'd never get flowers from anyone.

Bonus: What’s a random fun fact about yourself that most people don’t know?

I used to be afraid of dogs when I was younger. The reason was because my granddad had a little dog that loved running around. Whenever we went to visit my grandparents the little thing would chase me around the garden until one of us dropped because of exhaustion. I think this was my first childhood trauma.

Tagging (no pressure!) : @romaritimeharbor , @kopivie , @ruruumin , @strxnged , @femivi +

@mlkbwunnies , @aureusveill , @milk-violet , @camvrin , @strryskys + anyone who would like to join!

[midnight-mourning]

I need y'all to know I chose violence with this next chapter, and by violence I mean I had a rare spark of brilliance while writing the secondary outline today and it's SO GOOD I am SO excited for this next chapter fr fr

[mosaickiwi]

your angle... or yuor devil

Emo has some business to take care of... but you're going to a Halloween party together later wahoo!!! [REDACTED] is he/him only for this since there's some other loser in the scene 🙄

cw: torture in the beginning, implied murder

proceed with caution

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

As if contemplating what to watch on TV, [REDACTED] glanced down at the sight in front of him.

Bound in an old, wooden chair, somebody's agonized cries for help went unanswered, muffled by the torn, bloodied knot of fabric tied over their mouth. They'd been nothing but incomprehensible since the first nail was painstakingly pried from their finger.

The bigger piece of torn cloth was bundled in their lap. Its folds held a steadily growing pile of teeth and fingernails. Some were whole, but most were in pieces from the messier extractions.

Normally, the dark haired man would have more satisfying tools at his disposal for the victim. But he didn't have the chance to run home, especially when a Halloween date with you was right around the corner. After a quick stop at a hardware store, today's (un)lucky winner got dragged into the nearest abandoned building.

Only a couple hours ago, hardly ten minutes after the time you normally took your lunch break, this piece of work had approached you. 

Of course, nothing came of it. And you told your beloved partner about the unwelcome interaction right away. Between the usual chatter and flirting once you video called him for lunch, you mentioned it in an offhand comment, a wrinkle in your forehead to boot.

Then you'd gone right back to talking about the holiday, and how excited you were for the party that night. [REDACTED] didn't move on so quickly.

Just as he leaned down, a metal nail poised over the shitstain's knee and a hammer in hand, his phone rang. The items clattered against the floor as he stood and hurried to yank it from his pocket.

The bound and gagged, soon-to-be-done-for stranger looked surprised, but oddly grateful for the brief escape from further torment.

Before he could even offer a greeting, you spoke.

"Hiii! I'm already finished making treat bags at the library. Do you wanna meet me at your apartment for a little while before the party? I'm headed there now."

"I'd love to, but M'not exactly free," [REDACTED] managed to answer calmly despite the whirlwind you lured his heart into. He kept his gaze on the wide eyed stranger in front of him, wondering if they'd test their luck. 

Surprisingly, they did their best to stay quiet, the over-dramatic, obnoxious sobs from earlier slowly subsiding into sniffles. He smugly smiled and turned, walking a few steps away. Even with their impending demise, he didn't want to share your voice with anyone.

"Oh," you said. "That's okay." The notable disappointment to your words pained him, and he had to throw a glare over his shoulder at his victim. 

It was their fault that he would be missing out on extra time with you. Why didn't they just mind their business, instead of trying to chat you up while waiting in line?

But, [REDACTED] shared some of the blame. He'd begrudgingly skipped the usual lunch break visit at your insistence, since you wanted to surprise him with the matching costumes you were picking up.

"So what are you doing then?" you asked, then passed right over the topic. "Never mind. It's probably work, right?"

"... Yeah. Work," he answered. Admittedly, he was thankful you decided to stop asking questions on your own. And that you didn't remember he normally worked from home. "M'sorry, love."

You hummed in thought. "No worries. Programming hours sure are all over the place. I guess they kinda have to be, with the kind of money you make though." There was a sudden, loud commotion in the background and you softly cursed.

"Angel?" your boyfriend worriedly called out.

"I'm fine! My stupid tail just got caught in the — I mean… I'm fine!!"

The hacker smiled in relief, already excited for the costumes you bought. He didn't trail you or sneak a peek at the store's cameras for once, but he did notice the bright red horns poking out of the shopping bag behind you while you ate. You must've changed into yours before you left. An angel and a demon — only you wanted him to be the angel. 

[REDACTED] laughed, almost forgetting the person tied up behind him until they weakly groaned in agony. His smile immediately turned to a frown; he had to hang up too soon for his liking.

He was apologetic as could be. "I won't be able to leave for a while, but I'll make sure to call you the second I'm done."

"You always do," you teased him. "I can't wait to see the look on your face once I give you your costume."

He instantly took the bait, as if he didn't already know. "Really? Why don't y'give me a hint?"

"Hmm… It's… uhh, your favorite thing in the world?"

Ah, that one was too obvious. Still, he wanted to pretend a little longer. The delighted look on your face was sure to be worth the wait. "I'll work hard t'figure it out before I get home."

Your almost impish laughter made his heart skip a beat. "See you soon, Ren."

The phone beeped and the screen went black, taking his good mood away.

With a faint sigh and a roll of his eyes, the dark haired man reached for the sledgehammer leaning against an upturned table. It weighed lighter in his hands than the one he was used to, but it'd do the job just fine. 

He turned back towards the stranger, bruised, battered and much too weak to do anything but stare up at their tormentor. 

All the joy in [REDACTED]'s demeanor was gone, replaced with commonplace boredom as he slung the hammer over one shoulder. "Guess y'kept quiet enough, so I'll make this quick."

[ruby-static]

Thinkin’ about these nerds a lot.

[firapolemos05]

Manners

CW: suggestive, creepy whumper, lady whumper, pet whump, water deprivation, muzzles, defiant whumpee, forced to beg

The glass of water on the table had caught her Pet's attention.

Scarlet noticed him stealing glances over the book in her hands, eyes darting between the glass and the floor. Longing. Oh it was simply adorable how he tried to hide it.

'How long should I make him wait?'

She raised the glass and took a nice long sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Her Pet's gaze held longer that time, a glint of desperation sneaking into his eyes. Chapped lips pulled into a thin line under his muzzle, and Scarlet knew he was trying so hard not to waste any remaining moisture in his mouth on them.

It had been days since she last allowed him to drink.

A consequence of disobedience. 

Fluids and nutrients delivered intravenously would prevent any actual dehydration, but that did nothing to treat cottonmouth. The parched barren of his throat must be unbearable by now.

"You must be thirsty, aren't you, Pet?" she inquired. His eyes shot back to the floor, embarrassment marking his face at being caught. Scarlet chuckled. That pride of his made it too easy. "Come now, you remember your tenth rule, right?"

Mentioning the rules always made him flinch. Oh he remembered alright. She had made sure of that. Made him recite each one over and over, interrupting each mistake or refusal with a strike of her switch across his back.

He remembered them very well.

'Rule 10: Pets do not request, they beg.'

While knowing his rules was one thing, following them was another. And her Pet had a particularly difficult time with this one. A defiant little one, he was, but after several weeks of strict training, Scarlet had cracked his armor. 

Some beautiful cracks. 

The fear that flashed in his gaze whenever she entered his cell. The empty, resigned silence whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, or traced the masterpiece of scars over his skin. He was even getting better at remembering to call her 'master.'

Now Scarlet watched another crack form. Watched the show of emotions he failed to suppress: anger, humiliation, anxiety, craving. She took another sip from the glass and watched the unspoken threat fuel those last two. And soon she spots the exact moment of breakage. 

He turned towards her and bowed his head. His voice weak and rasping.

"May I please have some water. . . Master?"

Oh how delightful. 

It usually takes him far longer to beg. He must really be desperate. He didn't even growl this time. 

The satisfaction was like a drug.

"Good boy," she smiled and he bristled at the praise. He despised it now but it'll be a matter of time before he's craving that too. She pointed to the floor in front of her chair. "Come here."

Her Pet hated to crawl, but he knew better than to attempt standing without permission. Oh well. He can be grateful his arms are bound in front of him today.

He avoided eye contact as he approached, a glare glued to the tile flooring. But soon, he was where he looked best, kneeling at her feet.

His hands rose to reach for the glass, a gesture Scarlet swiftly corrected by catching the chain connecting them under her boot and pinning them down.

"Pets do not use their hands," she scolded and he grimaced. She held the glass out, hovering it just above his head. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

His face flushed dark at that, the anger and shame making a reappearance. He had earned his reward, but he still had to accept it however she wished him to. Even if it was a display of power such as this. It was too late for him to refuse, but he almost looked as if he was going to try. Fortunately for him, the desire to quench his thirst won out. He obeyed, his jaws parting as far as the muzzle would allow them.

Scarlet poured slowly, wanting to savor his reactions. She could be a gracious master now and then. She was careful to let the water fall steadily in between the muzzle's wires.

To his credit, her Pet tried to remain stoic, composed. But as soon as liquid passed his lips, the animal need took over. Like an eager dog he gulped it down, leaning closer, squeezed his eyes shut as he craned his neck to catch every last drop. The effort failed him, as his movements made the drops catch on the muzzle, splashing over the metal. Well, that was his own fault. Glossy streaks ran down his chin and neck.

Scarlet licked her lips.

She should do this again, just with her favorite red wine. Painting her Pet's neck with dripping red would be quite enticing. And it would be an order then, rather than a reward. He won't be able to refuse, and won't be able to stop her from pulling him into her lap to lick the wine from his neck.

Oh how he will hate it. And she will feast on his helpless fear.

The last drop of water fell from the glass.

It's barely enough to satiate. Her Pet gasped for air, greedily seeking more where there is none. It will be a short respite, and he closed his mouth to prevent his breaths from stealing that back. Then he noticed the amused expression of approval on his master’s face and turned away, abashed at his behavior.

Scarlet curled a finger through his muzzle, pulling him back to face her. "Now what do you say?"

Another rule he had difficulty with.

Contempt twisted his features, and before he could think better of it, the words already left his mouth. "Go to hell."

Scarlet grinned. She can already taste his regret. 

Time for another lesson. 

[inheartofwinter]

For @drarrymicrofic 's prompt "Midnight". G | 146.

in the first snow

It was three minutes till midnight. Draco hadn't slept yet. He was still waiting.

Harry had said he would come back this week. It was already Sunday, but Draco didn't mind. Harry had said he would come back, so he would definitely come back.

Draco stared at the snow gently covering the ground through the window. They were the first snow of the year. Harry had said he would watch the first snow with Draco.

The trees in the garden rustled despite there was no wind. Draco held his breath, his heart beat wildly.

The rustling got nearer and nearer, and then, a shadow tumbled out of the rose bushes.

Draco pushed the window open. Snow fell on his face, cold and refreshing.

Hearing the noise, the shadow looked up and smiled. "I'm back."

Draco threw himself out of the window, into Harry's arm. "Welcome back!"

[chickenbyday]

Kevin/Andrew | Explicit | 1.3k

Summary:

Andrew gets a strap-on and Kevin sees god.

[koifishscribbles]

Just hopping on again to remind folks of my wip long satosugu fic entitled I’m Sorry: In Various Translation!

Here’s the premise:

Gojo Satoru has not seen his ex, Getou Suguru, since college. Until he shows up one day teaching in the classroom across the hall from him.

Here’s a list of things that you might like about it:

- 56k so far and nobody’s kissed yet but it’s coming really soon. It’s definitely slowburning.

- alternating povs in a curse free AU. See satosugu in high school, then college, and finally as teachers!

- some of the major themes are grief and growing up (maybe that’s just a bonus for me)

Here’s a sample from the latest chapter (I picked an angsty bit for y’all):

“Smoke your fucking cigarette.” Satoru spits. It tastes like bile, but the only way he’s going to feel better is to cough it all up. “When’d you realize that you fucked up?”

The spark of the lighter burn his eyes. He still smokes the same cigarettes as Shoko. In a cloud of smoke Suguru responds, “I am still not sure I fucked up—“

“Fuck you.” It bubbles out of him and hangs from his lips before he can stop it.

“I deserve that. I think that if I had stayed, I might not be here, so I didn’t fuck up, I just survived. I felt guilty about leaving before I even did it. The question wasn’t you or me, because I like to think I would have picked to save you. The question was: save myself or we both drown.”

Satoru doesn’t expect to have anything left to say. The few words he’s already choked up have left his throat feeling raw, but this slips out coated in his blood: “I would have picked you too.” The phrase sits between them, garishly caring.

[yeonzzzn]

ITS MEH BIRTHDAY 🥳🥳🥳

[lizardperson]

attitude problems

[on ao3]

Admiral Cornwell shares a drink with the Emperor. If only that woman wouldn't get under her skin so much...

fandom: star trek discovery characters: katrina cornwell/mirror!philippa georgiou rating: m wc: 659 prompt: day 4 "drop the attitude." for katoberfest 2024 @theadmiralslegion

---

"What's she like?"

A raised eyebrow. "Who?"

Katrina took a sip from her whiskey glass. "The other - me."

"What makes you think I know her?" Philippa gave her that damn smirk again. No, not Philippa - the Emperor. The tyrant from the other universe, who had probably killed more people than the entire Klingon fleet in this whole war combined, and enjoyed it. Not Philippa.

"Just a feeling." That flash of recognition when they first met. The way she looked at her now. There must have been a shared history, and Katrina needed to know what it was.

The Emperor chuckled and watched the whiskey swirl around in her glass before finally answering. "Smart. Cunning. Very ruthless." She looked up. "Not so different from you, actually."

You know nothing about me. "Is she still alive?"

"No. He killed her."

Of course he did. Katrina had never hated someone as much as him. The other Lorca. The imposter. Bastard. Maybe one day she would be able to forgive herself for not seeing it. Not very likely, though.

"What was your relationship?"

"My, so many questions, Admiral." And again that damn smirk. "Almost makes me suspect this is some kind of interrogation, and not just a chat between friends."

"Didn't think you had any," Katrina snorted. "Friends, that is. And I am definitely not one of them."

"Pity. I think we'd make great friends, actually."

"I disagree."

Katrina emptied the rest of her glass and turned towards the window, watching the stars. Of course it wasn't exactly smart to turn her back on that woman, but right now, she just couldn't stand looking at her face anymore.

"You were close. You and Captain Georgiou."

Always that mocking tone. Katrina suppressed a snarky response, and the urge to slap that attitude out of her. She shouldn't even answer the question, the Emperor would only find ways to use it against her eventually. But on the other hand, she wouldn't be able to deny it convincingly anyway.

"Yes."

"Lovers?"

Katrina laughed at that choice of words - she hadn't suspected that to be part of the Emperor's vocabulary. "In a way."

Definitely in a carnal sense, though not romantically. But Katrina had loved her, still did, and missed her every day. If there was such a thing as soulmates - there wasn't, of course - then Philippa would have been it. She never took the time to properly grieve her death, so meeting the Emperor was all the more painful. That woman, who was so much like Philippa - and at the same time very much wasn't. What a cruel twist of irony that the two people Katrina cared most about came haunting her from another universe. At least in this case, she knew it wasn't her Philippa.

The Emperor stepped up behind her, and Katrina was acutely aware of how little space there was left between them now. "I think we should be friends," the Emperor declared and put a hand on Katrina's waist, then slowly slid it down, stopping at her hip. "Intimate friends."

"Sorry, not looking for any currently. And I suggest you remove your hand," Katrina remarked dryly, but made no attempt to bring some distance between them - which she really should. This was entirely too close. Dangerous, in so many ways.

The Emperor leaned in to her ear, standing at almost the same height as Katrina in those ridiculous heels. "Do you ever drop the attitude, Admiral?

"No. Do you?"

The hand wandered further up again. "No."

In an instant, Katrina turned around, grabbed the Emperor by the throat, and pushed her against the bulkhead, glaring at her. Their faces were close, too close, and the Emperor held her gaze, again with that mocking smirk that Katrina despised so much.

Did she hate her? She wanted to.

I miss you.

Katrina bridged those last few inches between their faces and kissed her. This was such a mistake.

She almost felt like Philippa, too.

[lothcatthree]

a lesson in pushing and pulling

pairing: cal kestis/bode akuna

rating: explicit

word count: 5.3k

summary:

“Could be better,” Cal responds with gravel in his voice.

“Kestis, you just had a dick down your throat and you still won’t shut up,” Bode huffs and slides his hands down Cal’s ass, lifting him up in a motion that shouldn’t be so easy, “What’s it gonna take, huh?”

-

Cal and Bode take down a cell of raiders on Koboh, and they decide to celebrate back at Pyloon's. Cal just wants to celebrate a different way and he's willing to play dirty to get it.

[buddie-buddie]

as long as you're right here (stay next to me)

2.2k - g - read on ao3

The fireworks show is Buck’s idea. 

Not that Eddie puts up much of a fight once he sees the hopeful glint in Buck’s eye. But still. Buck’s idea. 

“Fireworks?” Eddie asks, passing Buck the stack of plates he’d just pulled out of the dishwasher. He used to like fireworks. It feels like a lifetime ago, but he did. Before he was choppered out of a combat zone with a couple of bullets and some shrapnel beneath his skin. Before he almost bled out on the pavement in the middle of the day and added another couple of scars to his collection. Before sparks rained down in the middle of a parking lot and left Buck’s lifeless body hanging limply from the ladder truck. 

“It’s the Fourth of July,” Buck says by way of reply, putting the plates away before turning back to Eddie. “We have to see fireworks on the Fourth of July.”

It is the Fourth of July after all, and Christopher is sleeping at the Wilsons’ which means Eddie and Buck have the night to themselves. Fireworks might not be the worst idea. Sure, they’d have to go to the ones in the park to avoid running into Christopher and his friends at the pier, lest they commit the ultimate parents-of-a-preteen crime.

But it could be nice. Romantic, even. Eddie can picture it now. Just the two of them, laying side by side in the grass and staring up at the stars, hands intertwined as they wait for the show to begin. Although he doesn’t think there’s anything romantic about his chest tightening and his heart rate ratcheting up as soon as the explosions begin. Nothing screams “romance” quite like his palms sweating and his skin buzzing beneath an onslaught of anxiety.

Any protests Eddie might’ve had die on his tongue when he goes to pass Buck the silverware basket and instead finds himself lost in the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes. There’s something hopeful there, something that has Eddie setting the basket down on the counter and stepping around the dishwasher door, something that has him snaking his hands around Buck’s waist, something that has him saying, “Okay, baby,” before meeting Buck’s lips in a kiss. 

Eddie understands why Buck wanted to come. It’s… well, it’s kind of perfect. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon, leaving the sky painted in shades of purple that slowly bleed into blue. The balmy air smells like popcorn and Buck’s lips taste like cotton candy, which makes the twenty minutes spent waiting in line for it completely worth it, as far as Eddie's concerned.

There are plenty of other people here, but there’s more than enough room for everyone to spread out and have their space. 

“This is nice,” Eddie says, once they’re settled on the blanket Buck insisted they bring. Buck hums in agreement, leaning his head against Eddie’s shoulder as their fingers tangle together. 

. . .

The first explosion startles them both. There’s plenty of warning, and yet Buck feels Eddie tense beneath him, the muscles in his shoulders coiling tight as the first round of fireworks burst in the sky above them. His own breath hitches in his throat, and he catches himself gripping Eddie’s hand just a little bit tighter. 

Eddie squeezes back almost instantly, without hesitation. It’s the reminder Buck needs that Eddie’s here, that he’s safe. That this won’t be like the last couple of times a similar sound echoed around them. That no one’s going to be left bleeding out in the middle of the street. No one’s going to be dangling lifeless in the air as a driving rain pours down over them. 

“We’re okay,” Eddie murmurs. Somehow, amidst the explosions and cheers and voices around them, Eddie’s quiet assurance rings the loudest. 

“We’re okay,” Buck echoes. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again. 

When the next round is fired off, neither one of them flinches. 

There’s something a little bit surreal about it, living in this moment. It’s the same feeling he has every morning when he wakes up next to Eddie, the same feeling he has every time he packs Christopher’s lunch, every time Eddie announces it’s Buck’s turn to take the trash out. It’s the same rush of warmth beneath his skin, the same flutter of his heart that happens every time they pull up to a red light and Eddie steals a kiss across the center console, every time Eddie texts him from the grocery store and asks if they’re out of eggs.

There’s beauty in the mundane, and even more so in the moments— these moments— that make up a love, a life that Buck simultaneously dreamed of and never thought he’d have. 

He’s never known happiness like this. 

He turns to tell Eddie as much when the first spark hits them. 

It takes a moment for Buck’s brain to realize what’s happening. At first, all that registers is Eddie grabbing him, his arms coming around Buck’s sides as he pulls him into his chest. One of Eddie’s hands is in the middle of his back, the other on the back of his head. He tucks Buck against his chest, holding him as close as he possibly can. And then they’re moving. Rolling, more specifically. There’s a flash of heat, a loud series of pops and sizzles and high pitched whines. 

Someone screams. Someone else does too. And then there’s another round of quick, loud pops. 

And then Buck doesn’t hear anything at all except for the hammering of his own heart. 

Maybe it’s Eddie’s heartbeat he hears. He’s still holding Buck against his chest, still has his own body draped over Buck’s. He’s still blanketing him— still protecting him. 

Buck doesn’t know yet what’s happening. He doesn’t know what it is that Eddie is shielding him from. But he does know that it feels safe here, wrapped up in Eddie’s arms and tucked close into his chest. 

“Buck?” There’s panic creeping into Eddie’s voice. “Hey, look at me.” 

His hands come to bracket Buck’s face, leaning back just enough so they can see each other clearly. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

Buck nods. Part of him wants to look around and figure out what the hell just happened. But a bigger, more insistent part of him can’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. They’re wide and searching, filled with fear and concern as they rake over Buck’s face. Buck doesn’t miss the slight tremble in Eddie’s bottom lip, nor the way his breath seems to catch in his throat with each shaky inhale. 

“You’re sure?” Eddie asks, his voice equal parts hopeful and unsteady. 

Buck nods again, and lets Eddie hold his face in his hands and run his thumbs over his cheeks as the panic in his eyes melts into relief. 

“W-What’s going on?” Buck asks, his voice unsteady.  

“Some idiots brought homemade fireworks.” The disgust is thick in Eddie’s voice, each word dripping with disdain. 

A second round explodes nearby and they scramble to get to their feet. Buck stumbles, his foot catching in a stranger’s blanket amidst the chaos. He hits the ground, though Eddie’s quick to haul him up and link their fingers together. People are still screaming, still running, the entire area having descended into madness as the professional fireworks continue firing into the sky.  

Eddie leads the way as they weave through the crowd. His grip on Buck’s hand is steady and unwavering; he doesn’t let go until they’re back at the truck, and even then it’s only long enough for the two of them to climb inside and shut the doors before Eddie’s hands are back on him. This time, they’re running over Buck’s hands, his wrists, the warm skin of his arms left exposed by his arguably too-tight t-shirt. They make their way to his face, pausing in time with the breath that catches in Eddie’s throat. 

“Eddie,” Buck begins. His voice sounds gravelly, like he’s just swallowed sand. He clears his throat and tries again. “Eddie, I’m fine. I— I’m okay.”

. . .

“You’re bleeding,” Eddie says. Voicing the realization doesn’t do much to stop the hammering of his heart, nor the way his breath is coming in bursts so quickly his lungs have started to burn. If anything, it magnifies it. “You’re… you’re bleeding. On your cheek.”

Buck brings his fingers up to his cheek, and Eddie guides them with his own trembling fingers to where the skin across his cheekbone is scraped. It isn’t bleeding heavily, but enough so that Buck’s fingers come back tinged in red. 

“Guess I am,” Buck says, his voice calm in a way that’s almost disarming. 

He’s bleeding because some imbeciles thought it would be fun to set off their own amateur fireworks a few feet away from them, and Buck is calm about it. Not that it matters — Eddie’s got enough rage for the both of them. 

Buck pulls down the sun visor, turning his face away from Eddie’s gentle hold just long enough to check out his scraped up cheek in the small mirror before turning back to face Eddie. “Nothing a little betadine and Neosporin can’t fix.”

“Buck—” Eddie hates the strangled edge to his voice, the way it threatens to break over the single syllable. He hates how scared he sounds, how weak and defeated. He needs to be strong for Buck. He needs to—

“I know,” Buck says, his voice soft and gentle as he brings his hand up to Eddie’s cheek. He runs his thumb over the freckle beneath Eddie’s eye, the same one he makes sure to press a kiss against every night and again every morning. “I was scared too.” 

He leans forward, his forehead resting against Eddie’s. They share a long, deep breath. Eddie’s hands have migrated to Buck’s neck, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath Eddie’s fingers grounding him in ways he’d never be able to describe. Eddie closes his eyes, breathes in the familiar scent of Buck’s shampoo, and thanks God and Jesus and every saint he can name that they made it. That they’re here. That they’re together. 

That they’re okay. 

By the time they get home, Eddie’s calmed down. Around halfway through the drive, his heart no longer felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. His hands were still shaking, mostly due to the adrenaline comedown. Buck had been quick to notice, though, reaching over and taking Eddie’s hand in one of his own.

“How were you so calm?” Eddie had asked, looking over at Buck and admiring the way his eyes sparkled beneath the glow of the streetlights. 

Buck had shrugged. “You had me. I knew it would be okay.” 

Eddie’s eyes shone with tears for the next two blocks.

Their hands are still laced together now, as Eddie leads Buck into the house and towards the bathroom. He pulls out the first aid kit as Buck sits atop the counter, spreading his knees to make room for Eddie to work. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says after a moment, earning himself a frown from Eddie.

“Sorry?” Eddie echoes, his voice low and quiet as he focuses on getting the lid off of the betadine, but the concern in it perfectly clear all the same. “What for?” 

Buck sighs. Shrugs. Drops his gaze to where his hands grip the countertop on either side of his thighs. “This isn’t supposed to be how we remember tonight.” 

“Nah,” Eddie says simply, pouring the solution onto a gauze pad. “I’m not going to remember this part. Standing in the cotton candy line for twenty minutes because someone has a raging sweet tooth, though…”

Buck scoffs. “Well I’m going to remember you eating half of the cotton candy you insisted you didn’t want.” 

Eddie will remember that too. 

He’ll also remember the way it tasted even better clinging to Buck’s lips. He’ll remember that slow, sweet kiss right as the sun went down. He’ll remember Buck’s head against his shoulder, the way the tension bled out of him and how everything inside of him suddenly settled as their fingers laced together in the overgrown grass. He’ll remember his stolen glance at Buck as the fireworks display started, the way the shadows danced across his face beneath the shades of red and blue that lit the sky.

He’ll remember being together. 

He’ll forget the rest.

. . .

Later, once Eddie’s put the first aid kit back under the sink and eased Buck off the counter— despite his protests that he’s completely fine, baby, I promise — they make their way to bed. It’s there, with Buck tucked into Eddie’s side and his curls brushing the underside of Eddie’s jaw, where Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Buck’s head and murmurs, “That’s not what I’ll remember.” 

“Hmm?” Buck hums, looking up to meet Eddie’s eyes. 

“When I think about tonight,” Eddie says. “I won’t remember giving you first aid on the bathroom counter. Or those godforsaken idiots lighting off a glorified IED.”

Buck grins. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll remember being with you.”

“You will?” 

“And the cotton candy line,” Eddie deadpans. “But mostly being with you. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Buck tips his chin up to meet Eddie for a kiss. And even though this one doesn’t taste like cotton candy, Eddie thinks it still might be the best one he’s ever had.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: Cis-fem!sub Reader Character: Donquixote Doflamingo Kink: #15 Bratty Reader #17 Degradation/Humiliation Prompt: #20 "Kiss me like you missed me." Gift Giver: @thus-spoke-lo

Summary: Doflamingo up and left you without and word, and upon his return home expects you to kiss him like you missed him. Instead, you snub him, and storm off to your room. Only to have the king of the castle storm in behind you.

Content Notes: degradation, dirty pet names, attitude from the reader and Doffy, string bondage, rough oral sex, edging

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The large hand almost engulfs your face, forcing you to look at him. You can see the vein in his forehead throbbing, despite the wide grin on his face. He’s not amused at all, and frankly, you didn’t want him to be. You were mad.

He had left without a word. For days. You didn’t even get a single word from him over transponder snail and had to find out he was gone on business from fucking Trebol of all people. Which meant you didn’t just get a simple report, you had to humor him for nearly an hour, and he would not stop talking.

Nothing against Trebol, but you hadn’t been in any sort of humoring mood when you’d learned your one and only had just up and ghosted without a single word.

Upon his return Doffy had explained to you that the business at hand had been severely urgent, and that he had been well and truly indisposed during the time he was gone. He wasn’t one who was overly interested in explaining himself, in any capacity, so the fact that he went that far should have been enough.

Normally, it would be.

But normally he didn’t leave you for days at a time without so much as an assurance that he wasn’t dead somewhere.

Implying that someone could take him down had been the wrong choice of words on your part, and now here you were. Face held, and an angry lover in front of you.

Your brows knit, anger welling up in you in return, and you pull your face away, batting his hand aside. You’re painfully aware of the fact that he allowed both actions. He’s always allowed you a level of bodily autonomy he didn’t have to, given his strength and position.

“I was worried. You’re dealing with all manner of people and who knows what lucky bastard fate’s set against you?” You grumble, crossing your arms and turning away. “I did miss you, but – ah!” You feel the strings over take you, binding your body, and forcing your arms behind your back in practice movements.

“Doffy! Let me-aaahhhhmm-shit.” You struggle at first, but his tongue against your neck, and his hand down your pants was too much all at once. He’s persistent, but gentle, and the gentleness is raising your temperature and addling your brain as he deftly teases your clit.

You can hear his laugh flutter against your skin as his voice threads through your ear. “My, my, you’re already soaking wet. My little whore wants to talk back to me? After I already gave her more than she deserved by explaining myself?

“It seems my favorite brat needs a lesson in manners.” He growls, a thick finger sliding into your mouth and pressing against your tongue before you can say anything in protest.

One of the biggest reasons that Doflamingo was able to manipulate you, had almost nothing to do with the fact that he was incredibly good at manipulating people. It was because you were weak to being bound, used, and pump full of either pleasure or pain. Your connection ran deeper than merely shared twisted carnal desires, but you were certain his reaction to your sass was because he had missed you too.

In more ways than one.

And this would handle two issues at once.

You could hear the sloppy wet sounds from your mouth and your thighs, the heat building in your core as you couldn’t hope to squirm away. Your breath was hot and coming out in huffs around his finger and you shiver in the threads around you as the pleasure was making your legs shake.

“ ‘Offy, ‘lease.” You mumble around his finger.

“Mmm, no.” He answers, finger leaving your clit just as you were certain you were going to cum. He cleans his finger off by wiping it on your shirt before he rips the garment away from you. Threads slip between you and the rest of your clothes, ripping them to pieces and leaving the tattered bits to hang from the other threads that held you.

“Not a word.” He growls, taking his finger out of your mouth and walking away. You can hear the shift of cloth from behind you. You aren’t surprised when his strings move you, to see him seated on the edge of your bed, nothing on except his feather coat.

He brings you between his knees, his hand pushing your head to his semi-hard cock. “Welcome me home.” He commands.

You’re already on thin ice, but you’re also still irritated with him, so you give his shaft a few licks and a kiss before you look up at him and stick your tongue out. The devilish grin on his face doesn’t have the throbbing vein to go with it and he laughs.

“I do love that about you,” he admits, grabbing your hair roughly and shoving himself into your mouth. “But it was not a request, my love.”

You do your best to adjust quickly to the assault. His dry cock stuck to your lips a few times until you were able to get everything nice and wet. The discomfort gave way to a more comfortable set up, and Doffy let go of his grip on your hair as you began to suck and lick him properly on your own.

“Much better.” He muses, shifting his hips every now and then to drive himself a little deeper into your throat. “That’s how you greet me properly, slut. I was too kind to request a simple kiss, it seems.”

You lean back to say something, but before you can even squeak, his hand is in your hair again, pushing you back down.

“I said, ‘not a word’, and I meant it, my sweet bird.” He hums, shoving his hard cock down your throat until you’re gagging and crying from the actions. He moves in long enough strokes to allow you to breathe, even giving you a moment to cough and sputter a few times before continuing. He never allows you enough time to speak, and after a few moments he pushes almost painfully deep, forcing your nose into his pubes and forcing stars across your vision.

He pulls out to you sputtering and coughing, tears and snot and drool sliding down your face before he adds his cum to the mess. He smears the mess around your face and down to your chest, pinching your nipples roughly and forcing a yelp from you before he stops.

“Speak, brat, what do you say?” He asks, leaning back and glaring down at you.

“Th-thank you, sir.” You gasp, coughing once more to clear your throat. “Wel… welcome home.” You add quietly, heat flushing through your body.

Strings lift you up, forcing you to straddle his large waist, spreading your legs wide. You can feel his dick twitching against your slit.

“Better,” he muses, pulling a larger scrap of your ruined clothes free and using it to clean up your face. “Now, my sweet little bird, prove you missed me and kiss me accordingly.” He commands.

You can feel some of the threads go slack and you’re able to move your arms again. You reach out, cupping his face in your hands and bringing the two of you together.

“I missed you, Doffy, you bastard.” You say with a genuine smile, closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Softly at first, peppering him with a few brief kisses before parting your lips and urging him to devour you in return.

He held you in place, kissing you sweetly, as you felt the tip of his hard cock prodding your slick folds, pushing slowly into your pussy. You gasped and moaned into the kiss, welcoming the dangerously thick intrusion that promised to properly apologize to you for his extended absence.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

first teaser for chapter 12 of my itafushi fic and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it

[sorrygotthesesacks]

I tried really hard to have this done yesterday but it’s finished now.

[spicymotte]

got possessed and wrote 5k today for whatever reason