#or a kitten i guess

[xochimillilili]

Need more of you kinky fucks to talk about how fucking good it is to be mutually subby with someone. The desperate whiny humping, the drooling and moaning into each other's mouths as we dumbly make out, the biting and scratching and needy groping, and making a pretty mess of cum on each other

Really just euphoric to cuddle and hump away, two dumb horny pets moaning and whining please at each other, both being such good fucking pets as we cum at the same time, whining and whispering I love you and falling asleep in each other's arms, all spent and fucked out in each other's cum

[spielzeugkaiser]

I come back for a hot second (and go into hiding pretty much right again) with some redrawn screencaps of what I'm watching currently!! 👀 All I have in me are the sillies-

[boiledcaprisun]

nepeta. From the Comic.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."

[thirstyvampyr]

Frank celebrated for pretending to be gay vs Ian upstairs who just got beat up by his closeted boyfriend full of internalized homophobia

[malaierba]

[creekfiend]

I rewired my brain so that the "ohh idk .. am I really allowed to do that..." thought process is tied directly to "WHO'S GONNA STOP ME" but the thing is that I forgot that I am the oppositional defiant disorder poster child, and in casting my own insecurity as an authority to defy, I may have accidentally rendered myself too powerful

oopsie whoopsie

[bizarrelittlemew]

going down (with the ship)

[ explicit, s1e4 canon-divergent, Ed/Stede, ao3 ]

"It's September 1st, boss." "What's that, mate?" "It's September the 1st." "Dickfuck, no it's not."

Turns out it is. Dickfucking damnit.

And now Ed is lying spread out on the sofa in the captain's cabin, drinking brandy straight from the bottle and waiting for the sea to take him. At least it's some damn smooth brandy. All things considered, not the worst thing to be the last thing to taste on this Earth.

Unless—

Well. Ever since seeing him naked when they switched clothes earlier, Ed had kinda started to hope that he'd get a taste of Stede Bonnet at some point. Hadn't planned on bringing it up this early, though. He hasn't even had time to plan how he'd go about that. And he likes a good plan.

But plans have already betrayed him tonight, and if they're going down with the ship anyway, what's the harm in asking?

Now he just needs a smooth opener.

"Have you ever tried fellatio?"

Or, like, dive right in.

Stede looks up. Looks somewhere between surprised, bemused, and curious, but not horrified. That's something.

"You mean sucking dick?"

"Whuh—" Ed nearly chokes on that, like he'd like to choke on—anyway, he clears his throat. Did not expect that from this fancy man. Promising, though. "I mean, yeah. Yep. Or like, getting your dick sucked."

"Can't say I have, no. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"Unfortunately."

They let that hang in the air for a bit, just looking at each other.

"Well... uhm. Do you wanna?" Real smooth, Teach.

Stede's lips curl into a slightly nervous but mostly excited smile.

"I guess there's no time like the present."

"Not much time at all, mate."

And the nervousness completely dissipates, replaced by sheer eagerness as Stede nearly trips over himself in his haste to get out of his arm chair, falls to the floor, walks on his knees to Ed's side, and starts unbuttoning the fall front on his breeches before Ed can catch up to what is happening.

"Wow, hey, I meant—you know what, never mind." Ed is not going to protest if Stede really wants to suck his dick, even if he imagined it the other way around, and damn, it seems that Stede really, really wants to suck his dick. He wonders if all fancy, rich lads are this hungry for cock. Maybe that's why they're like that.

Maybe not. Ed gets a feeling that Stede is different.

Different from anyone else who has ever touched Ed's dick before, too, and oh god, Stede is touching—licking his dick, sucking the head into his mouth and moaning, going at it as if Ed's cock contains the secret that might save them all if only Stede can suck it out.

Ed groans and buries his fingers into Stede's hair just as he starts bobbing his head, making up for any lack of finesse with pure enthusiasm, and okay, Ed is more than a bit bitter about this being his last night alive, because if this is Stede's baseline, Ed would've liked to be along for the ride while Stede developed his skill to its full potential.

Too bad that it will all be ending too soon—their lives, and the glorious experience of stuffing Stede's face full of his cock, because the way Stede closes his eyes and sucks around him is rapidly drawing Ed closer to the edge.

He only just manages to warn Stede before he comes, tries tugging at his hair to let him know he might want to pull off, but Stede just hums with encouragement and takes him deeper.

If this is to be his last orgasm, he might have found peace with his fate.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Ed slumps, staring up at the ceiling, then takes a swig of the bottle still in the hand he isn't using to pet Stede's head. He is just about ready for the sea to swallow him up like Stede just swallowed him down.

And yet.

Ed got a good look at Stede's equipment earlier, and he's still determined to get the close-up experience. Also, there is a sizeable bulge at the front of Stede's—Ed's—pants, and if Stede comes in his leathers, it will sort of suck to clean them up later. In case there is a 'later', if they somehow miraculously escape this.

"Alright, c'mere." Ed pats his chest.

"What?"

"Come up here, fuck my face."

"Are you—what?" Stede looks like one big question mark, but despite that, he is already climbing onto the sofa above Ed, knees on either side of his shoulders.

"C'mon, we don't have much time."

Stede opens the fall front, letting his cock spring free. Ed licks his lips.

"Maybe I can choke to death on cock before the Spanish get me."

"Let's try to avoid that, shall we?"

Ed is not sure he agrees, and shows it by grabbing Stede's hips and shoving him forward, taking in as much as he can of it in one go, which turns out to be half of it. Stede's yelp turns into a groan, and he quickly gets the picture, soon thrusting into Ed's mouth with rough abandon. He turns out to be even more of a natural at face-fucking than cock-sucking.

Yup, this is a much better last thing to taste (and fill his throat). Only surpassed by the last last thing, the taste of Stede as he coats his tongue with come. Ed doesn't even get emotional over the sweet things Stede babbles as he comes, all while stroking Ed's cheek with his thumb.

Okay, maybe he gets a little emotional. Mostly sad that he doesn't have time to do this, like, five hundred times more. At least.

As Stede sits heavily on Ed's chest, catching his breath, still mumbling something, Ed blinks and turns his head to the side. Catches sight of the thing Stede had been sitting with in the chair, the thing he dropped in his rush to get on his knees by Ed's side.

"What's that painting?"

[silentwalrus1]

the Benevolent Dictator/Utopian Fascism Universal Fix-It is a super popular fantasy all over, not just on ao3, but it’s in fanfiction that i’ve most commonly encountered the rather hilarious variety which

A) does not seem to realize it’s building a dictatorial fascist state as their glorious utopia

B) nonetheless expends near-constant screentime to trying to convince specifically the audience that no no, here’s why THIS authoritarianism is good really!

which is not a difficult contradiction to parse, given overall fandom desires. Of course you want your blorbo to live in a world that caters to them, and of COURSE any character that has hurt your blorbo SHOULD suffer state-sanctioned torture and capital punishment. In this essay, i will demonstrate that thus there is no need for fic authors to build out all these fantasy monarchies and galactic empires with all their tiresome complex social problems, they just need to make their fic a modern coffeeshop au set in Saudi Arabia -

[bigboobyhalo]

q!tinaaa !!

[lavend3r-stardust]

This could be us, you know

[royalarchivist]

Etoiles: What is thi– what is this one?

Ellum: I pray– I pray it's a thirst-trap, I pray it's a thirst-trap. 😩🙏

Etoiles: What is this? I don't remember this moment. [Laughing] Oh, it's the best one!

Tina: Wait, you look so good! That was incredible.

Foolish: That turn-around was awesome!

Etoiles: The French athlete!

Etoiles reacts to his fancam introduction! 📸

[xochimillilili]

Woahs you're so cool and niceys and so easy to love with my whole heart :3 !!! *starts kneading my paws and makin biscuits on your tummy*

[kleefkruid]

Did you know a cat can get pregnant two weeks after giving birth? Anyways, our little mother came with another surprise and this time I managed to catch her in time

[gravedigg]

He looked so cute when I was playing earlier I had to paint him <3

[kaleidoru]

The Cat o Nine Tails getting supplies for the rest of the crew, with The Kitten o Singular Tail (Sadie) along for the ride. It's not easy being involved with a Criminal Gang whilst also being a Parent, but they make it work.