#y'all please ignore this

[rosieposey-torturedpoet]

Okay, so this is really random: but I see a lot of like 'inexperienced' Whumpees who are the weakest/youngest out of the group

But like what if the youngest is the one everyone fears, I mean they're in the group for a reason

Picture this very specific scenario: The team is captured by Whumper and they are all taken to the same room, chained up to keep them from running or trying anything: and here comes Whumpee (a teenager that's like half the size of everyone in the room) with these insanely complicated locks, maybe they're wearing a straight jacket, with multiple guards while the rest of the team got one or two

Because if you think about it, younger people would have to work harder to prove their strength and 'worth' to the team. There has to be a reason for them to stay on the team

However my personal favorite of this trope is that the youngest is just so unpredictable; not only are they talented/wise beyond their years but you truly never know what they'll do next with all the talent they harbor

Maybe Whumper hates them because at least he can fall into this rythme with the rest of the team and learn their habits: but he physically can't do that for youngest because there is no routine or habit to fall back onto

Maybe they mastered a rare magic form at a young age, or were trained as a soldier

Then think of the CARETAKING OPPROTUNITIES?? A parental Caretaker that shows Whumpee what it's like to be a kid, who worry about they're little reckless living death wish 24/7, and give them a mom/dad that they deserve

I just love young, anti-hero, vigilante Whumpees who have seen so much and learned so many things at such a young age, to the point where they are constantly on the verge of villain because of their genuine desensitization to it all

Which causes everyone to be at least a little afraid of youngest, in some sense of the word

[mobius-m-mobius]

"Rest assured, our Loki will be with our Mobius, and they will be dealing with the consequences of this first season."

OWEN WILSON and TOM HIDDLESTON behind the scenes of LOKI S2

[fiona-fififi]

You're not saying you're in love with me (but you're going to)

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Summary: Eddie's seeking joy, and he just wants to suck dick about it. Buck might be having a crisis. 8x06 extended scene.

Notes: First buddie smut fic for me. So, uh. I don't know. Enjoy! And mind the tags. Also, please let me know if I forgot any, as I am not accustomed to writing or tagging smut.

Title from Taylor Swift's “Slut!” because it felt appropriate in all the ways.

8x06 Extended Scene, PWP, Getting Together, First Time, Emotional Sex, Playful Sex, Couch Sex, Smut, First Time Blowjobs, Hand Jobs, Come Swallowing, Unsafe Sex, Mentioned Tommy Kinard (though he's really not very important to this beyond being the reason Buck is at Eddie's house)

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Ao3 Link

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“We broke up,” Buck announces, near out of the blue, Eddie's eyes on him too much to bear after a bit. He feels the flat disinterest in his own voice; the way he's maybe jumped too far too fast into acceptance.

Maybe it really was for the best that Tommy had walked out.

“Ah, man,” Eddie says, and it's sincere, Buck knows it is, but there's a hint of something else there that Buck's not sure about—an undertone of happiness that could maybe just be the remnants of whatever he'd walked in on when he'd shown up at Eddie's door or could maybe be a reaction to something else Buck's not ready to examine. 

Buck grunts out an acknowledgment of Eddie's words. His body stiffens a little. At the possibility Eddie will push him to talk about it, Buck's mind insists. He keeps his eyes trained forward, too afraid to look at the man beside him for fear of breaking. How, though, he's not sure.

“I'm sorry, Buck,” Eddie voices, genuine and sincere, and there's something about the way his name lingers on Eddie's lips that has Buck's breath catching. “I know you liked him,” Eddie adds, hand coming down heavy on Buck's thigh.

They haven't moved, though. Not really. So with Eddie leaned back in the cushions and Buck sitting stiff at the edge of the couch, Eddie's palm falls high, so close to the juncture of his thigh that Buck thinks he stops breathing, heart hammering hard in his chest. He expects Eddie to pull away, to sit forward and shift the touch up toward his knee, to clap that spot a couple of times and pretend he hadn't lingered.

But he doesn't.

Instead, his fingers roll, a careful squeeze to the meat of Buck's thigh, dancing there in a lingering massage and shifting just a breath higher, slipping into the dip of his groin.

Buck's breath stutters out, catches with a choked sound, hand gripping too tight around the glass in his palm as he freezes—too afraid to move for fear of breaking the moment, of giving Eddie a reason to draw back and pretend like nothing of substance had happened. Feels his heart hammering in his chest, corner of his gaze caught on the sweet little smirk on Eddie's face that looks some combination of proud and fond, and Buck chokes again, falls back into the cushions behind him in an uncoordinated slouch that has Eddie chuckling aloud, a soft, sweet sound Buck wants to bottle for his own ears only forever.

He blinks hard, eyes focusing on Eddie from the new angle, Eddie's fingers creeping that much closer, and Buck can feel his body reacting—some desperate heat he knows he shouldn't feel licking over every part of his skin, radiating out from that one focal point of Eddie's fingers clasped around his thigh. “Eddie,” he grunts. Intends it to be chastising. Feels the desperation instead.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums in response, and Buck can't tell if it's a question or just an acknowledgment. Can't bring himself to care as Eddie reaches with his free hand to take the near empty bottle from Buck's. Murmurs something about tucking it away before someone gets hurt that Buck doesn't actually hear, not really, as he turns his gaze to the sweet, easy joy that crinkles Eddie's eyes and tugs at his lips in the prettiest picture of happiness Buck has ever seen. 

It's infectious, and suddenly Buck can't quite feel anything other than want. The electric of Eddie's touch leaving him a squirming mess in seconds.

And Buck knows they should talk about it. Thinks, at least, he shouldn't be so eager to give in, considering. But he can't bring himself to care about anything other than the feel of Eddie's fingers burning into his skin.

“God, you're pretty like this,” Eddie breathes, taking in the sight Buck makes against the cushions. And Buck thinks he must make quite the sight—feels wrecked over nothing more than the squeeze of Eddie's fingers and the heat in Eddie's eyes. “Take this off, yeah?” Eddie demands, tugging at the sleeve of Buck's jacket.

Buck obeys. Doesn't even consider denying Eddie as he scrambles forward just enough to dislodge the offending material and drop it over the back of the couch. Eddie's free hand finds its way up under Buck's t-shirt then, making clear his intention to strip Buck down to nothing, even as his other palm remains firmly planted on Buck's thigh. Buck doesn't argue—drags the shirt up over his head and discards it with his jacket, catches Eddie's eye with heat in his own.

“We shouldn't,” Buck breathes, unconvincing, voice catching as he shifts back further into the couch cushions, hips pushing forward as he settles. At the movement, Eddie's fingers brush over the hardness beneath his fly, just a little too firm to pretend it's an accident, and Buck chokes on a whine as his eyes fall closed.

Eddie shifts then—away, away, away—Buck can feel it in the way the couch moves beside him, even as the burning imprint of Eddie's palm remains, and Buck can't help the desperate whimper that bubbles from his lips when Eddie's movement turns into a deliberate caress, fingers playing gently over the bulge of Buck's erection in his jeans, and Buck thinks he might die for it. “Please,” Buck gasps, squirming against the cushions beneath him and pressing up into Eddie's touch.

Eddie shushes him quietly, and Buck forces his eyes open to follow the sound, and when he does, they find Eddie there, kneeling between his legs, eyes transfixed on Buck's as he lets his fingers play, hands splaying over the thick muscle of Buck's thigh. “Why shouldn't we?”

“Eddie ” Buck gasps out again. It's not a sob, but it's a near thing.

“Are you upset over it?” Eddie asks, all honest curiosity, fingers stilling just long enough to make Buck squirm for his touch. “Too much to drink to make sound decisions?”

Buck shakes his head, eyes falling closed again. “You know I've only had one.”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums in agreement, fingers curling to pop the button of Buck's jeans, “broken up, then?”

Buck gives him his best approximation of a glare at that one, finds those warm brown eyes dancing with mirth, even as Buck can feel the pause—the way he's refusing to allow himself to give into the want until he's sure Buck's with him.

Buck wants to be, so desperately. Thinks maybe he is.

Eddie's mouth tilts into a fond smirk, eyes falling to where his fingers work as he drags down the zipper of Buck's jeans.

And he's working slowly—slowly enough to give Buck time to voice a real protest, but Buck would be lying if he pretended not to want everything Eddie's offering.

Still, there's a stinging behind his eyes and a sharp twinge of fear as Eddie shimmies his pants down his legs. A hint of tension settling over him because he wants, but he also doesn't know what he'd do if this all meant losing Eddie, and he can't help but fear exactly that because everyone always leaves, and why would Eddie be different, really? Why would sex make Eddie stay when it's only ever ended badly before?

Eddie clocks him then, Buck too in his head to notice that Eddie's slowed, settled back between his legs, but is gazing up at him with worried eyes, hands sweeping delicate patterns over the skin of Buck's thighs. Less deliberate now in his worry. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, quiet and delicate, and Buck feels stupid, sitting there stripped nearly bare as Eddie shifts so completely from confident sex kitten to concerned best friend. Buck's eyes swell with tears he tries to blink away. “We can stop,” Eddie promises, a sweet sincerity in his tone that makes Buck's heart clench. “Nothing has to happen here if you don't want it to.”

“I don't—I don't think I want to stop,” Buck chokes out, all damp eyes and worry.

“Then what's wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie's voice is so, so quiet and careful, and something swells in Buck's chest and makes him feel like he might break.

He hesitates, sucks in a shaky breath as his eyes roam Eddie's concerned face, a fragile attempt at avoiding Eddie's own eyes. Then, finally, “sex is like a death knell for me,” Buck admits, all quiet vulnerability  “And I don't want to lose you.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes. And it's a quiet, delicate thing that feels like something Buck's not sure he deserves. Reaches up to stroke soothing fingers along Buck's hairline, over the wetness clinging at the corners of his eyes, along the cut of his cheekbones. “Let me show you what it feels like when someone stays.”

It feels like a promise Eddie intends to keep.

Buck lets out a shaky breath, thighs falling open with the gentlest touch of Eddie's fingers as he moves to massage the sensitive skin there. And having Eddie there, beautiful and bright, taking up the space between Buck's spread thighs, settled comfortably on his knees as he takes in the sight before him, has Buck transfixed.

“Eddie,” Buck murmurs, a quiet desperation coloring his tone. He's not sure, really, what he needs, but he knows what he wants, and he can't bring himself to deny Eddie when he's begging Buck to let him have him. 

Buck reaches out, gentle fingers curling around Eddie's neck, thumb petting delicately over the cut of Eddie's jaw. 

Eddie smiles. Fits his fingers around Buck's wrist, thumb pressing gently to the rapid pulse under his touch, and then shifts until he can press a kiss to that same spot. And it feels monumental—it shouldn't; it's just a small gesture, a sweet connection serving to ground them both, but Buck feels like his heart might burst at just how much adoration he finds in Eddie's touch.

“Can I?” Eddie whispers then, soft and sweet and sharp with want, his eyes wide and pleading as his lashes flutter up toward Buck, and Buck can't help the way his hips hitch just a bit—the slightest movement, but enough to tense Buck's thighs and turn Eddie's eyes dark with want. The nervous hope still there, but edged out by a desperate need Buck's never seen on Eddie before.

He thinks he likes it.

“Yeah,” Buck chokes out, eyes transfixed on Eddie, breath heaving as he tries to calm the molten heat running through his veins at the depth of desire in Eddie's eyes.

Eddie's gaze shifts, then, fingers hooking securely into Buck's boxers, giving a little tap with his thumb to get Buck lifting his hips enough for Eddie to drag them down his strong thighs and past his knees. They fumble a little along the way, Buck's too long legs interfering with the angle when Eddie refuses to move from where he's planted, too eager to get his hands on Buck. In the end, they manage, Eddie taking a poorly coordinated kick to the shoulder and Buck nearly rolling himself off the couch in his haste to shimmy out of the offending garment. Eddie grins and maybe giggles a little at the whole ordeal, and Buck does, too, laughter overtaking as Eddie reaches out to steady himself on Buck's bare knees while he resituates between them.

As their laughter subsides, Eddie's eyes still dance with adoration, and Buck is surprised with it when Eddie leverages himself up with hands firmly planted on Buck's knees, leaning in until Buck gets the picture and ducks down, catching Eddie's lips with his own.

They're not close enough to make it a proper kiss—just a sweet press of their open mouths, Eddie's tongue dipping forward for just the slightest taste before they're separating. But it's the kind of first kiss that leaves Buck trembling all the same. When Eddie pulls back, they're both grinning wide, and Eddie presses one more peck to Buck's lips just as he lets his fingers drag up the length of Buck's cock, delicate and teasing and tentative, and Buck can't help but break the kiss as his head falls back against the couch, desperate whine ripping out of him as Eddie's grin shifts into a joyful smirk, cocky with it as Buck ruts into his touch, seeking a pressure Eddie's not yet ready to give him.

“Shh,” Eddie hushes then, shifting back down to settle between Buck's legs. Buck whimpers again and Eddie shifts his touch to the insides of Buck's thighs, tickling the sensitive skin there with gentle fingers. “I wanna play for a minute, huh? Promise I'll make it worth the wait.”

Buck chokes on something that sounds vaguely like Eddie's name, then. Eyes pressing closed and breath stuttering as he tries to regain some semblance of control. His whole body feels tight, balanced on some precarious peak he's not sure how to navigate, but he wants. Doesn't think he's ever wanted anything as much as Eddie's touch now that he's had a taste of it.

For his part, Eddie's true to his word, fingers playing delicately over Buck's skin, a hint of curiosity beneath the confidence rolling off him. He's fascinated by every move Buck makes, every sounds that falls from his lips. 

Buck reaches out, runs his fingers over Eddie's cheek, just to feel the pull of his smile, and then Eddie's turning into him, pressing a kiss to Buck's fingertips as his hands slip up along the length of Buck's thighs, thumbs caressing the delicate skin closest where Buck needs him most only to skate higher to explore his chest. And Buck hates him a little bit for a moment, whining his displeasure as Eddie's hands splay wide across his ribs, pet over the muscle of his pecs, and then slide back down to skim over his sides, squeezing just enough to pinch when they settle on Buck's hips again, and he pouts—bottom lip protruding in the most obnoxiously childish way—and Eddie can't help but laugh. Can't reach Buck's lips again without more effort than he's willing, so instead, presses a wet kiss to the juncture of Buck's groin, hot breath ghosting over the length of him, and Buck's hips would be hitching up if not for the steady grip Eddie has on him. 

“Fuck,” Buck murmurs, mesmerized by Eddie's playful curiosity. The way he oozes confidence, even though Buck's not sure he's ever done anything like this before, and Buck's own curiosity gets the best of him, finds him forcing his eyes open wide and stuttering out “have you, uh, h-have you ever—” as he reaches to comb careful fingers through the mess of Eddie's hair.

“Never,” Eddie confirms, confidence holding in his tone. A hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

Buck blinks at that, something like awe blooming in his chest as he watches Eddie's eyes. Feels Eddie's fingers slide closer to slip around the length of him,  playing again for just a moment—touch too light to do much more than tease—until he's tightening his grip and stroking slow but firm.

Buck shudders with it, forces a breath through his nose as he tries to breathe through it without losing control. “Are you sure, Eddie?” Buck asks, all quiet concern, even with every nerve ending in his body drawn taught as he pets at Eddie's hair, lets his fingers linger. “I-I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for.”

Eddie smiles at that—something bright and sweet and genuine, and Buck thinks he might die here beneath Eddie's capable hands. Thinks it might be the only way he wants to go when Eddie presses another kiss to the skin of his abs and then murmurs “think I've been ready for you since that first day.”

Buck's breath catches again. Damp tears suddenly clinging along the edges of his lashes. Buck chokes on a sob, lets his head fall back again just as Eddie dips back, that same sweet smile playing across his lips as he goes back to peppering kisses along the dips of Buck's abs and the skin of his belly, firm grip slowing with the distraction but keeping up enough rhythm to have Buck gasping his praise on a broken breath, a quiet “Eddie” forcing its way out of him as Eddie plays.

“I want to taste,” Eddie murmurs then, like he’s talking to himself, before he turns his eyes up at Buck and asks, all confidence and sweet curiosity, “Can I taste?” before dropping a kiss so close to the head of Buck's cock that his cheek drags gentle over the length of him.

Buck sobs. A desperate, drawn out thing, as he chokes out Eddie's name over and over, broken with awe and adoration. “Eddie. Eddie. E-eddie.”

Eddie grins, big and cocky, and Buck hates the way his dick jumps at that predatory smile. “Gotta tell me, bud,” Eddie tsks, fingers teasing along Buck's length. Circling him to stroke firm and steady. Mouth pressing wet kisses to the cut of Buck's groin.

“Y-yes,” Buck chokes, voice failing enough that he nods hard in affirmation, fingers dragging along Eddie's jaw to draw his attention, “please.”

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs, almost to himself, and Buck whimpers. Lifts his hips just a touch, and he feels Eddie grin against his skin. 

Eddie shifts, ghosts his lips over Buck's skin, then presses a delicate kiss just below the head of him. Lifts the heft of Buck's cock away from where it rests on his belly, just enough to get his mouth on him properly, and then he's suckling at the head, tongue dipping into the slit, and Buck can feel the way Eddie's saliva pools around him.

Buck whines at the wet heat of it. Fingers scrambling for something to hold, but he doesn’t dare touch. Tries so hard to keep his hips from hitching. Remembers this is Eddie's first time—can feel it in the curious way Eddie's tongue twists around him, in the careful way he tries to dip lower, taking just the smallest bit at a time, keeping his fist wrapped loosely around Buck's length to help guide him.

But it's so fucking good, and Buck sobs with desperation as he tries to keep himself still. 

Feels Eddie smirk around his mouthful, and then pull off, pressing a kiss to Buck's belly with wet lips, before resting his chin there, eyes turning up to gaze at Buck, as he strokes his length, grip firm and sure. 

He makes the prettiest contrast—all sweet and quiet in the delicate look he turns up at Buck and absolutely obscene in the way he fists Buck's cock—and Buck can't help the way he chokes out Eddie's name again in a desperate plea, shaking with the effort to keep his hands to himself for fear of pushing.

Eddie's having none of it, though. Sees the tension in the way Buck's holding himself back. 

“You can touch,” Eddie assures him, confident and gentle—a tone he uses so easily with Buck that it makes his heart stutter sometimes.

“Don't—” Buck tries, breaks off on a gasp as Eddie twists his wrist just right “—don't wanna force you.”

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like a chuckle, air ghosting over the most sensitive parts of Buck and making him shiver. “You're not forcing anything, sweetheart.”

Buck shakes his head, tries to regain some semblance of rational thought. “Don't wanna get carried away. Want you to be in control.”

“I'm not gonna break,” Eddie insists.

And Buck blinks hard. Tries to form words. Notices the way Eddie slows his strokes and loosens his grip to give Buck a moment of relief. Buck loves him and hates it all the same. Thrusts carefully into Eddie's fist and notices the fond smile that calls to Eddie's mouth. Like he’s trying not to burst with joy at catching Buck so sweetly vulnerable.

“It's your first time,” Buck pleads, because he wants so badly to touch, but he's also so afraid of pushing Eddie too far too fast.

“You can touch,” Eddie repeats, all gentle voice and delicate smile. “You're not gonna break me, Buck. I trust you. With all of me.”

Buck swallows hard at that. Breathes out through his nose to try to keep his emotion in check. “Yeah?” Buck confirms again, all big eyes he knows Eddie can't resist.

Eddie smiles again, fond and adoring, as he uses his free hand to twine his fingers with Buck's. Drags Buck's hand close and then gives it a squeeze and lets him go. Gets a hand back on his hip and pets at his waist, digs his fingers in just a little to stake his claim, and Buck thinks he might die for it.

Buck, tentative as he is, reaches out to twine his fingers through Eddie's hair. Lets one hand fall to the curve of Eddie's neck, thumb tracing the cut of Eddie's jaw and the swell of his lips. Holds on as Eddie smiles again, a little predatory this time, and then shifts to get his mouth back around Buck. Moans low as the taste of precome that hits his tongue and squeezes Buck's hip in encouragement when Buck lets them lift in desperation. 

Buck doesn't let himself get carried away, but god, he's never felt anything quite like what Eddie's giving him. Tugs just a little at Eddie's hair, an experiment that earns another groan from Eddie and has him forcing himself down a little too far, until his throat spasms and he's pulling back to where he can breathe through it. Eddie keeps the tip in his mouth, suckles at it and keeps his tongue moving even as he recovers.

“God, you're beautiful.” The words slip out, full of a kind of reverence Buck's not sure he's ever felt before, and they have Eddie tilting his eyes up, letting loose a shivering breath that Buck can see is all a response to his words—a moment of vulnerability that maybe shouldn't be so impactful, considering, but it is, and Buck feels a little like he’s flying and also maybe like he’s dying from it. Doesn't understand this feeling or the way it centers around Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. It's not the sex. Not the moments of prolonged pleasure or the heat of their bodies or even the feel of Eddie's mouth around him. It's the delicate look of adoration in those eyes, the sweet way Eddie's taking control and guiding them because he knows Buck can't. It feels something like love in a way Buck's never known it, and he thinks he might die to keep it.

Eddie takes Buck deeper again, moans around Buck's length when Buck's fingers tighten just a hint in his hair at the feel of him. Eddie's a little more careful this time, strokes firmly at what he can't take and swallows around what he can as Buck leaks on his tongue. 

“Eddie,” Buck gasps, tugging a little at his hair, and letting a hand fall lower to grip at Eddie's shoulder just to touch because he's so fucking overwhelmed with it. Eddie hums around him, and Buck's choking on his breath. Warns, “I'm so close, Eddie. Eddie. E-eddie, I'm gonna come. Eddie.”

Buck's orgasm takes Eddie by surprise, even with the warning. He sputters for a moment, pulls back until just the tip of Buck's cock remains closed between his lips, and swallows around him, dragging a desperate groan out of Buck as his fingers scramble out of Eddie's hair, hands drifting to frame his cheeks.

“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck gasps, breath coming hard as he strokes at Eddie's jaw, presses at the hinge of it until Eddie gets the message. Meets Buck's gaze with his own, eyes tearing with the effort as he lets his mouth fall open, just enough that Buck can watch the rest of his release pool across Eddie's tongue. 

Eddie stays still for him. Lets Buck drag exploring fingers over his skin, his hair, his lips. And Buck can't help the way he whimpers when Eddie smiles, open mouthed, kitten licks at the head of Buck's cock, careful not to spill the mess on his tongue, and then closes his lips around the head, suckles gently, and swallows.

Buck moans, low and loud, and squirms at the overstimulation. Tugs gently at Eddie's hair.

Eddie lets him go, strokes gently once, twice more, just to hear the shuddering breath it forces out of Buck, and then lets Buck's softening cock rest against the cut of his groin. Lets his hands stray to massage at Buck's hips and thighs as they come down from the high.

When Eddie looks up at him again, eyes big and sweet and wet, Buck nearly loses his breath all over again. There's a bit of white clinging to the corner of Eddie's mouth, remnants of Buck's release offering a stark reminder that this was anything—everything—but a dream, and Buck can't help the way his breath stutters to a stop as he reaches down to cup Eddie's chin in his palm, Eddie nuzzling into him. Buck's thumb strokes absent-mindedly over Eddie's cheek for a moment as Eddie lets his eyes fall closed, and Buck—still transfixed on that streak of white—finds himself skating his thumb closer, catching the milky substance and pushing it past Eddie's lips. For his part, Eddie opens his eyes, meets Buck's own, a little smirk of mischief dancing in his gaze as he parts his lips just enough to suck Buck's thumb into his mouth, tongue twisting delicately around the soft flesh of Buck's fingertip as he cleans away any remnants of Buck's release, moaning low in his throat as he swallows around him.

“Fuck, Eddie, come here,” Buck murmurs desperately, tugging gently at Eddie's chin, thumb still trapped between Eddie's lips. 

Buck fumbles a bit hauling Eddie up and over him, shifting until they both fit onto the couch, Buck's leg hiked up against the couch back, other foot planted firmly on the floor, so he can drag Eddie between his spread thighs. Before they're even settled, Eddie's grabbing harshly at Buck's chin, so he can get his lips on Buck's, and Buck is reduced to desperate whimpers that Eddie swallows down around a smile.

It's fucking intoxicating.

“Off,” Buck begs, muffled against Eddie's mouth, as he shoves at Eddie's shirt, tucking one hand up underneath it to get to Eddie's bare skin as the other dips below the waistband of Eddie's underwear, just enough to tease. Eddie grins, desperate and wild, teeth catching Buck's lip as he shoves into Buck's touch, Buck's mouth open and pliant as he groans low and holds tight to Eddie. In answer, Eddie tugs at the material of his shirt one handed, too preoccupied with Buck's mouth to dip back and unbutton properly. He doesn't get far, the buttons refusing to give in his haste, much to Buck's dismay. Buck huffs in frustration, shoving the material up Eddie's chest, another irritated “off” growled out into Eddie's mouth, teeth catching sharp on Eddie's bottom lip. 

Eddie smiles, lets a happy laugh slip as he reaches up to drag a teasing finger down Buck's cheek before pulling his mouth away just long enough to tug the offending fabric up over his head. Buck latches onto Eddie's throat the moment it's bared, purring out his satisfaction at the newly exposed skin as he sucks a mark into a spot that makes Eddie squirm.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, a hot rush of breath tickling Buck's curls as Eddie sinks his fingers in and holds him tight, elbows pressing into Buck's shoulders.

Buck grins against his neck and slides an arm around Eddie's back, the fingers still tucked in Eddie's waistband petting teasingly over the soft skin at his hip. Tugs back and away just far enough to break Eddie's hold and shift up, breath whisper-quiet at Eddie's ear as he murmurs “tell me what you want, Eddie,” all confident swagger, even as his belly fills with butterflies—a delicate mix of nerves and desperation at the thought of getting his hands on Eddie, maybe even a little more eager than he was to have Eddie's hands on him.

Eddie whimpers. A needy little sound that Eddie tucks into Buck's neck, ghosting a delicate kiss there. “Touch me,” he begs, hips shifting just right to have Buck's fingertips slipping just a little lower.

Buck smirks at that, tugging Eddie close enough to feel the hard ridge of him pressed to Buck's belly, and Buck shivers at the all too real reminder that they're actually here. That Eddie's open and willing and wanting Buck. And for a moment it gives him pause—has him catching his breath with the reality of it all.

And when Eddie tilts his chin back, eyes finding Buck's as he smiles—all joy and adoration—and then presses another kiss to the corner of Buck's mouth, murmured devotion lost in its wake, Buck can't help but claim Eddie's mouth for his. Kisses Eddie sweet and slow as he shifts to shimmy Eddie's briefs down, just enough to get a hand on him, and then Eddie's mouth is falling open against Buck's, a sweet whine pitched high as Buck starts to tease, touch featherlight as he drags his fingertips up Eddie's shaft.

“Tease,” Eddie accuses, tugging away from Buck's mouth just the slightest bit, breath harsh as he presses into Buck's touch, begging with all he has when words fail him.

Buck lets a slow smirk slip over his mouth, kisses at Eddie's jaw. “So desperate for me,” almost a whisper, but cocky enough to have Eddie whining in answer again. “You want more, baby?”

Eddie blinks hard, breath stuttering as he tucks his face into Buck's neck and sobs when Buck, instead of waiting for an answer, wraps his fingers tight around Eddie's cock and strokes slow. The pressure just right to have Eddie squirming and thrusting up into Buck's fist, trying to gain some kind of control over Buck's pace. Buck stills him, wrapping his free arm tight around Eddie's waist and pressing him down against Buck's thighs to immobilize him as best he can. Kisses the shell of Eddie's ear when he hears Eddie whimper a quiet “please,” and squeezes at Eddie's hip to calm him.

“Wanna take my time with you,” Buck admits, the cocky swagger in his tone faltering and falling into something a little sweeter and a little softer that gives away the edge of fear that this is all he'll have. 

He hates himself a little bit for letting the facade fall when he feels Eddie still, body shaking with the effort, as he shifts back, hands reaching to frame Buck's face, fingers gentle as they fan over his cheeks. Buck feels his eyes dampen with emotion again as Eddie studies his features, taking in the worried downturn of his mouth and the furrow of his brow.

And then Eddie's leaning in, pressing a delicate kiss to the pink of Buck's birthmark, and Buck can't stop the lone tear that tracks down his cheek. Eddie, breath still calming, gives him another sweet smile and wipes away the evidence with a gentle sweep of his thumb. “Next time,” he murmurs, all full of promise, shifting to peck at Buck's lips, “you can take your time with me next time.”

Buck's breath catches at that, eyes big and hopeful. “Y-yeah?”

Eddie smiles, bright and happy and kisses Buck hard and sweet. “Yeah,” he promises, all fond joy. Buck nods his acceptance, squeezing Eddie's hip and refocusing on the job at hand, giving Eddie another experimental stroke just to tease him, and Eddie shakes in his arms and whimpers, letting his forehead fall against Buck's.

“Yeah?” Buck asks again, tone shifting, cocky smirk finding its way back onto his lips.

“Yes,” Eddie hisses, arms falling back to frame Buck's shoulders, hands sinking up into his curls. “Now, can you please make me come? I'm so fucking close and you're so good. Just. Please. Buck.”

Buck doesn't make him wait. Swipes his thumb over the head of Eddie's cock, just to tease, and then picks up a steady rhythm, stroking with a firm grip. Eddie groans, tugs at Buck's hair, and drags Buck's mouth down to the crook of his neck. Buck takes the hint, mouth turning up into a grin against Eddie's skin as he bites gently at the muscle there and then soothes the sting with his tongue. Sucks at Eddie's skin until Eddie's choking on a moan, crushing Buck closer and clutching hard at his curls, a broken “Bu-uck” ripping from his lips as Buck twists his wrist just right.

“Yeah,” Buck mumbles, prying his mouth away against the force of Eddie's grip. Kisses the shell of his ear, the hinge of his jaw, the corner of his lips. “Eddie. Come for me.”

Eddie chokes on a groan, leans in to catch Buck's mouth in a desperate kiss as he loses control, body thrusting up into Buck's touch as his orgasm crashes through him. Leaves him panting and whining against Buck's lips as Buck works him through it, touch shifting from firm to gentle as Eddie shakes in his arms.

As Eddie comes down from the high of it all, he shifts until he's resting against Buck, face tucked into Buck's neck as his breathing evens out and his heartbeat returns to some semblance of normal.

Buck smiles, pressing delicate kisses to Eddie's temple and petting a hand through his hair, gentle touch soothing in the afterglow.

“Made a mess of you,” Eddie murmurs after long moments of quiet, eyes transfixed on the pool of come on Buck's bare chest, fingers reaching to slide through the remnants of his release. Buck's eyes track the movement, watching, transfixed, as Eddie scrapes what he can onto two long fingers.

When Eddie draws his hand away, Buck can't help himself from reaching out to catch his wrist. Draws Eddie’s fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. Leaves Eddie blinking in surprise and breathing a little heavier at the twist of Buck's tongue.

“Fuck,” Eddie murmurs, all awe and heat, as Buck pulls away.

Buck smirks up at him, laves his tongue around the tips of Eddie's fingers one last time. “Needed a taste,” Buck flirts, voice pitched low, “till I can get my mouth on you properly. Next time.”

Eddie can't hold back the laugh that bursts from his chest at that, joy overflowing as he dips down to lick the taste of himself from Buck's mouth, Buck smiling against his lips the whole way.

“Keep it up,” Eddie threatens, all sexy playful swagger as he draws back just a breath, “and next time might come sooner than you think.”

“Mmm,” Buck hums, pressing another sweet kiss to Eddie's lips, drawing Eddie down tighter against his chest, “promises, promises.”

Eddie's eyes soften, take on that sweet quality Buck's seen for years but never really noticed like he is in this moment. Feels his breath catch as Eddie reaches up to push the sweaty curls back away from Buck's eyes and holds his gaze.

“Have lots of promises for you,” Eddie entrusts, delicate smile betraying an adoration Buck's not sure he's worthy of. “Plan to keep ‘em all.”

Buck's breath catches again, eyes shining with emotion at just how big all of this feels. At just how deep his feelings for Eddie run.

He nods. A quiet affirmation that he plans to let Eddie offer them all. That he understands the weight of everything they are and everything he thinks they will be.

But he can't speak the words yet—everything too deep and too raw and too fresh. His mind a mess of adoration and joy, but also a tangle of confusion and fear alongside the hope.

So he doesn't speak it yet.

Instead, tucks Eddie against his chest. Takes his weight. Wraps him tight in his arms and holds on.

Eddie clings just as tight.

—

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

온유 ONEW 3RD EP [FLOW] jacket behind

[scrumpylikesthings]

For WIP Wednesday, here's my word count cloak!

It's like a temperature blanket, but tracking my daily word count instead. I did a wc blankie last year and wanted to make something I could wear this year.

I love how you can clearly see my procrastination and then mad scramble to make word count every month _(:'3

I'm using (a heavily modified) Umma Cape by Aegyoknit. I really like how the cross over is done, it's so clever. And always love doing short rows.

[jakehoon]

· ˚ ˖ IT GIRL * a character template

this is a free character template to celebrate a character's birthday. this template is made with png and requires basic ps knowledge. the fonts used are spicy rise, poppins & elychalk by tzxico. click the source to download. credit is not necessary but please give a like or reblog to support.

[cyanocophrenic]

Obsession

I'm not a complicated woman, I swear.

I'm so boring.

I'm quiet. I live alone. I drink decaf. I file my taxes in January. I majored in art history.

I crochet, goddammit! I crochet cardigans, the most boring kind of sweater! And then I wear them! Like Mister Rogers, aka the plainest person to ever exist.

No one could possibly suspect how deeply weird I am.

I've been perfect. I've never left a browser history. I've never worn blue and red together. I've kept myself as trim as my mom's genes let me. No one's ever caught me watching the movie.

You know... the movie?

You know the movie.

Well, I mean, I guess it's "movies" now, but... I know which one left a violet stain on my soul.

You can't blame me.

Well... you certainly can't, anyway.

If you were me, maxed out on good karma, toeing every line you've ever met, perfectly alone in all the universe... what would you have done differently? What other choice was there?

Never mind how I got the chance. As soon as I found out about it, there was nothing else I could do. Everything I thought I knew about myself fell away. All the safe choices and good behavior just gone, poof, like they never existed. This is my fate, it was made for me.

I was always going to be the one chewing this stick of gum.

In the end, it was like they wanted me to find it.

Dodging through an unlocked door, stealing through low-lit corridors, drawn to it like the heartbeat of the universe.

It's so silly. I know it is. Some stray neutrino passed through my brain as a child, and I watched the wrong movie, and I twisted into whatever it is that I am. All I've wanted is to become something else, and that something is big, and round, and draped in the shreds of the last clothes she'll ever wear.

That last part is really important for reasons I just can't explain. All that matters is that I literally get too big for my britches. I just need to hear that little "pop". That's it.

I can never seem to imagine past that. Regardless, I'm putting the gum to my lips, completely, defiantly unaware of how this will end. It's on my tongue, and the flavor is unreal. I guess they didn't bother with the roast beef or anything. It's just violently fruity. Juicy, and warm, and way too sweet.

A door creaks open. I was so sure I wouldn't be found, but joke's on them. It's too late.

It's a mousy woman woman with huge glasses, wearing a lab coat. She peeks around the door before she enters, like she doesn't want to offend me.

"Oh-" she says.

"Um," I say around a mouthful of juice. "I-"

And then I think, hey, wait, I've made my choice. It doesn't matter how this ends! What's she going to do, save me? I'm in control here! Kind of!

"... um." I say again. Actually, it's hard to talk. I'm swallowing a lot of juice.

She steps all the way into the room.

"Uh, hi," she says, fiddling with her glasses. She looks at me, and then down at her clipboard, and then back to me. "Are you-"

"I'm not spitting it out," I say, before gulping down another burst of juice. I'm starting to feel kinda bloated.

"No, I mean. Um," she says, "sorry, I'm new here, um."

I'm tired of my mouth working so hard, so I make a show of swallowing the gum.

"Oh!" she says, "that was fast," and she makes some sort of mark on her clipboard.

What.

"Um, could you follow me this way, please?" she asks, gesturing toward another door I hadn't noticed. One of those big ones like they have on loading docks that roll upward.

"What?" I ask, reflexively.

She walks over and pushes a big red button on the wall. The door starts lifting.

"Oh, sorry, we can wait if you want," she says, "you'll fit, don't worry."

I start to have a thought, but then my stomach gurgles and I feel like I'm on an elevator going down. I clutch my sides and double over, but... it's getting hard to bend.

"Don't worry," she says again, "it just feels weird, but you'll be okay."

The thought comes back. Someone was expecting this. They're prepared for this.

I look back at the pedestal the gum was resting on. It's already been replaced with another piece.

The worst feeling in the world is thinking you're making a defiant last stand, only to find out that the hill you chose to die on was ready-made for your dramatic exit, and that you'll be asked to leave through the gift shop and pay way too much for the photos they take of you. You know, figuratively.

I have to do something they won't see coming.

I turn around and lunge for the new piece of gum. Or, at least, I try to lunge, but my thighs are filling up and it's getting difficult to move dramatically. Still, I grab it and cram it in my mouth. Might as well be a brat.

"Oh!" she chirps again, and makes another mark on her clipboard. "Wow! So-"

God, I'm feeling so full. I can feel every inch of my clothes pulling taut against my skin. I gave in to temptation and wore a blue top, blue jeans, and a red belt. I couldn't help myself. Now, that belt is starting to dig in, trying to squeeze me in half.

I swallow the new gum, too, and look down at myself. I'm getting pretty big, bulging out around the belt. My shirt is riding up, exposing my swelling blue belly to the cool air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her make another mark.

I try to touch my growing midsection, but it's getting hard to move my arms. They're filling up too. I feel warm all over now.

"You're blowing up so fast!" she says.

She opens her mouth to say something else, and that's when my belt snaps apart. My equator surges outward, jiggling and sloshing from the violent release.

It feels so, so strange, becoming something completely alien to what you use to be.

That said, it also feels amazing. Swelling bigger and bigger with gushing blueberry juice, bursting out of- wait.

I'm still growing, but besides the belt, everything's still on.

I try to look down again, but all I can see is the blue horizon of my belly. I flap my hands in frustration.

The lady speaks up again. "Since you're likely unable to move by yourself now, may I have your permission to roll you?"

"Um," I say, trying to think. I'm freaking out a little right now. "Uh."

I need this. It's all I've ever really needed. I just need need need to blow up and burst out of my clothes, that's it, and who cares what happens to the blueberry that used to be me.

All I need is to burst one little button and I'm done. I'll have won. Good day, miss.

The problems is, I'm perfectly round now, and my jeans are so, so tight but haven't so much as snapped a stray thread.

"Miss?" she says, "may I roll you away?"

I try to think of something to say, just to stall for a little more time. I'm so close, so so close.

Instead, I break down.

"Please," I beg her, "I'm going to lose my mind if I can't pop this button."

"Hey-" she starts, but I'm in a full-on panic right now.

"I have to, I have to, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to be a blueberry, and like what if you roll me away and I never get juiced and I'm just stuck like this forever which would be hot but still or like what if this is as big as I can get and it's just impossible like what the fuck who even makes clothes that fit spherical women I knew I should have worn the red ones-"

"-but-"

"And I know what you're thinking! She broke the rules, it doesn't matter what she wants, she's just a blueberry now, blueberries don't want things, they're not even people! She had her chance and she blew it except she couldn't even blow it-"

"Miss! Please," she snaps, and she walks over, reaches up, and pinches my lips closed.

We lock eyes, because where else can I look, and for a moment, I just cry silent blue tears down my puffy cheeks, pouting all the while.

Then she smiles, and says, "I'm a trained professional, Miss. I can help you with that." She lets go, brushes her frizzy hair out of her eyes, and disappears behind me.

I feel her warm little hands on either side of me, like she's trying to give me a weird hug. Then I feel her squeeze into me. It feels startling, she must be way stronger than she looks. The pressure builds more and more, and I can hear her making an adorable little straining noise.

Then, there's a pop, and immediately a sense of relief. I hear a little zipping noise as the fly on my jeans explodes open. I gasp at the sensation.

Finally.

I give a little shudder, releasing the tension I hadn't realized was building the whole time. How Freudian of me, I guess. The oral stage ain't got nothing on this.

"Now then," she says, appearing in front of me again, smiling wider, making yet another mark. "May I please roll you away, Miss?"

[stood-onthecliffside]

album cover

title + track names release via billboards

website (better quality under cut)

concert ticket

the secret of us by @gracieabrams : an experience reimagined

[haiisx]

MUSICIAN AU??? EYES EYES EYES. SHARE. how did toshinori get his injury?? did him and nighteye split up and why?? what is his preferred style of music?? how does he meet izuku?? EYES EYES EYES. sooo curious <333

!!!! I'm so glad you asked!!! Get prepared for a lot of rambling because this has been consuming my every waking thought for a WHILE

How did Toshinori get his injury?

So the injury itself is unrelated to AFO, even though I toyed with that idea for a bit when I was coming up with this AU. The two ideas that I'm considering as of right now are: Toshinori is involved in a car accident (which results in the AFO-style injury from canon, and also causing nerve damage in his hands which makes it difficult to play or compose) or Toshinori comes down with an illness, and because he doesn't take breaks to take care of himself like, EVER, it progressed and got worse (which doesn't result in the big huge scar from canon, but it does shorten his time that he's ablet to perform without worsening his health even further). Even if it's cliche, I'm a bigger fan of the first option.

Did he and Nighteye split up and why?

Yes!! They did!!! Pre-injury, Nighteye and Toshinori were partners, so they wrote music together (which, for any non-musician readers, is a big deal. You don't write music with just ANYBODY). That was until Toshinori got his injury, and proceeded to overwork himself despite Nighteye's protests. Just like canon, some things are said, and the two of them split because Nighteye can't watch Toshinori work himself into the ground and Toshinori can't just give up on music because his body isn't holding up. (And yes, Nighteye still takes Mirio under his wing to be Toshinori's successor).

What is his preferred style of music?

Classical/orchestral!! His symphonies are grand and powerful and rallying. When it's just him and a piano (as it mostly was back in his Prime), he can make it sound like he has a whole orchestra behind him. Post-injury, he transitions into conducting an orchestra rather than performing himself (although, he did do some conducting in his Prime for the symphonies he composed).

The titles of his pieces are references to events within canon. For example, his song "Symbol of Peace" (Or, symphony no. 8) is his most famous song, alongside "I Am Here" (symphony no. 1), and "Final Act" (symphony no. 94, and a reference to what Gran Torino says about All Might during the fight at Kamino Ward).

I'll also explain how One For All ties into everything since it has to do with his style of music. So One For All is actually the title of a piece that is currently unfinished. The song was passed down from his mentor, Nana Shimura, which was passed down to her from her mentor, and so on. Each generation of musician added about a minute or so to the piece (with Hikage Shinomori, the fourth artist, adding two to three minutes to mirror the fact that he held OFA the second longest in canon), and it is still unfinished. Toshinori hands the sheet music down to Midoriya, who eventually finishes the piece and completes One For All.

How does he meet Izuku?

So far, I'm thinking that Izuku sneaks into one of All Might's concerts and bumps into him after the show, at which point Izuku fanboys, freaks out, and trips over himself for an autograph. i'm a little unsure about the specifics, but I want this to parallel canon, so Toshinori gets the chance to hear something Izuku composed, which is so full of emotion that Toshinori is moved and inspired, thus taking Izuku under his wing.

Izuku is still a big ol' nerd, so his notebook is FULL of analysises of a plethora of artists' trademarks, of the progressions they use in their pieces, the lyricism, the time signatures, etc etc. He also has an arc where he has to stop just mirroring All Might's musical style and branch out into developing his own.

And now time for everyone's favorite part: facts you didn't ask for but I'm going to share anyway!!! can I get a drum roll?

Stain is a critic, and he's known for killing musicians' careers with his scalding responses. The only musician he's ever given positive feedback to is All Might.

All For One and Toshinori new each other when they were younger and they both got into music at around the same time. They're rivals because the messages that AFO promotes in his pieces (despair, surrender, hopelessness) are diametric opposites to the messages All Might promotes (hope, unity, strength) in his music. Also, AFO straight up steals music from other artists (reference to the quirk-stealing) and has been trying to steal the sheet music for One For All from All Might since they were in school. AFO derives joy from being the only one to make All Might's constant smile twitch or falter. All For One is also a classical/orchestral artist, and the names of his songs are references to canon as well. His most famous piece is "Demon Lord," which incorporates haunting choral vocals.

Present Mic owns a record label.

Aizawa still becomes a caretaker for Eri, and 1-A still put on the concert she attends w/ Mirio.

everything has a much lighter tone than canon considering that nobody's lives are on the line, and the biggest "conflicts" are just rivalries between musicians.

Alrighty, I think i've rambled long enough. If you have any more questions please feel free to ask them!! Feel free to make any additions as well!! I plan on drawing some more for this AU, so stay tuned. Thank you so so much for the ask!!

[annoying--moth]

Drew the cuties~

I used one of those Pinterest bases as a reference but I couldn't for the life of me find the artist so I just put it under the cut

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[cakesmelons]

I've come to make an announcement: Kai @elizakai is a bitch-ass motherfucker. He pissed on my fucking Dream sans. That's right. He took his hedgehog fuckin' quilly dick out and he pissed on my FUCKING Dream sans, and he said his dick was THIS BIG, and I said that's disgusting. So I'm making a callout post on my Tumblr.com. Kai @elizakai, you got a small dick. It's the size of this walnut except WAY smaller. And guess what? Here's what my dong looks like. That's right, baby. Tall points, no quills, no pillows, look at that, it looks like two balls and a bong. He fucked my Dream sans, so guess what, I'm gonna fuck the earth. That's right, this is what you get! My SUPER LASER PISS! Except I'm not gonna piss on the earth. I'm gonna go higher. I'm pissing on the MOOOON! How do you like that, OBAMA? I PISSED ON THE MOON, YOU IDIOT! You have twenty-three hours before the piss DROPLETS hit the fucking earth, now get out of my fucking sight before I piss on you too!

[cinamun]

No because they really got y'all thinking that at 29 you need a 10 step face care regimine and a stanley cup when in reality, you just need some sunlight, black soap, a couple orgasms, activity that centers yourself and to stay hydrated (in a regular ass cup).

[fiona-fififi]

...

[cipher26]

Literally who tf cares what ship has more fics on AO3. it's about expressing your ideas and sharing stories, not a contest of wE hAvE MoRe ThAn YoU!! Jfc.

[waywardwizzard]

So, uh, this happened...

Now the big question is, should I go traditional and do it with oil/acrylic paint, or should I go digital?