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#I have no regrets
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Jack is a Cat Dad. Try and change my mind.
Sequell to this post
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wo0zyw3ezer · 6 months
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Anybody up for some Scollace? (please say yes please say yes)
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some uh........................some drawings i did recently since i’ve been in god of war brainrot 
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ruensroad · 7 months
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she do a boop
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angelxd-3303 · 1 year
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Yeah Mr L is cool and all but Imagine a Mr L AND a Mr M being partners in crime, like Mario accidentally gets brainwashed along with Luigi, what would be even funnier is the two trying hard to rizz up Peach and Bowser in they’re brainwashed state, it could be pre-established relationships and it would basically go down like this:
Mr M: Hey there blondey, happy to see that pretty face roll back around here, what finally got the courage to ask for my number?~
Mr L: Do you guys come here just to fight again or did you just wanted to see us?~ I mean we couldn’t blame you, we are sights to behold~
Mr M: Hey maybe if you two decide to play nice and finally join us we could give you the pleasure of taking you out~
Peach/Bowser: FOR THE LAST TIME WE’VE BEEN DATING FOR THE PAST YEAR-
*throws this into the crowd and runs*
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luvrsluv4uuu · 7 months
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Imagine it . Big fight ,rough ,hard and no mercy , make up sex with Jason Todd 👀
IH MY GODDDDD I LOVE THE EAY UR BRAIN WORKS ANONNNNN (≧▽≦)!!
his hips are rutting into yours, he's whispering degrading things in your ear, but he's also whispering he loves you, and your falling for it.
you don't even remember what you said that got him so fired up and frustrated, but all you know is that you got into a big fight and that he's fucking you into oblivion because of it.
the tips of his dick is hitting that spongy spot in your guts hard, his hands are on the back of your knees pushing them up to your shoulders as close as he can, and he's muttering things like "you're not cumming unless I say you can" , "shut up, shut up and stop whining so much" and "iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou".
tears start forming in your eyes and your pleading for him to let you cum "pleasepleaseplease i'll be a good girl—fuck—just please lemme cum!"
"shit, you're a good girl, such a good girl f'me... cum for me, cum f'me r-right now." his voice is shaking, while his heavy balls hit the plump of your ass and his tip hits your cervix harder and faster than a few seconds ago.
with one last, hard and deep thrust, you cum, seeing white with stars hanging around your head like a halo and you feel him cum, too. his hot, thick and big load of cum dumping into your weeping pussy; it feels euphoric.
"you can't leave me. this pussy's mine, and only mine."
☆— luvr's note —★: sorry if it didn't turn out the way you wanted anon, but i hope you enjoyed !!
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Feel free to share this on any social media site you’d like so the world knows of Our Great Suffering.
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cancelforcipe · 1 month
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Nota bene: Sun x Eclipse
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He's listening, I swear. For the most part.
Fan(meme)art for @theinfamousdoctorf 's work.
Original meme under the cut:
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lovefool-null · 29 days
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my finger slipped
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busyheadkeepbreathing · 11 months
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GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY VOL. 3 SPOILER BELOW
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The entire Guardians fandom when not a single one (emphasis on Rocket and Drax) didn't die and everyone had a happy good healthy ending
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dingle-dee · 4 months
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Soo...
Discovered young peppino, and I thought what if he went to my highschool
And he was here
And I could kiss him...
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I'm lonely
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foresttt-png · 6 months
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I'm so sorry for constantly bothering you for lesser restoration but Astarion needs to be fed
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ava-valerie · 7 months
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overkaffeinated · 1 year
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First post ayyyyyy
This is a personal au of mine (that I may or may not write in the future), so enjoy ig?
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infernaleikon · 10 months
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riding the law au aka 50 y/o obi-wan who’s getting divorced and has the hots for 23 y/o law student anakin who is assisting with his case
enjoy!
(3k)
*    *     *
“You could at least try to look happier to be here,” Quinlan says without looking up from studying the desserts as he flips the page of the menu. “It’s not like I’m making you put out after. Although, it might improve your mood.”
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, barely holding back an inelegant snort. “If you made me put out for inviting me to lunch?”
“Baby, you would be begging me for some sweet birthday love before the desserts are served if I turned it on,” Quinlan quips without missing a beat. When Obi-Wan flicks his eyes up to look at him, Quinlan is still studying his menu but the smirk on his face is insufferably cocky.
“Don’t call me baby.” Obi-Wan already regrets agreeing to come out for lunch today. He had very firm plans to avoid his phone or thinking about his current state of affairs by day drinking on his couch while watching wildlife or history documentaries. But in a moment of incandescent insanity he had made the mistake of telling Quinlan as much.
Which had landed him here. At a stupidly fancy restaurant for lunch with his best friend (though he is currently debating that label, really), in a fine suit, and nowhere near the sad state he’d hoped to be in by this time of day (without the option of achieving it either, given the very public and very pretentious setting).
“Sorry, daddy,” Quinlan says, and maybe Obi-Wan doesn’t need to get drunk. Maybe he needs to whack Quinlan. In the very public and very pretentious restaurant. The menu is solid enough to make it sting, at the very least.
Quinlan snaps his menu shut and leans back in his chair. “No objections to the sweet birthday love then?” he drawls. “The big five-oh deserves a formidable…entry, you know.”
“I will enter you,” Obi-Wan answers, reaching for his wine glass, “in a Taylor Swift lookalike contest. After bleaching your hair.”
Quinlan clutches at his chest with wide eyes and a barely concealed grin. “Vicious,” he gasps with faux-terror. “And here I thought you’d lost your edge and turned—” He scrunches his nose. “—vanilla.”
“Compared to you I have always been vanilla,” Obi-Wan says before taking a sip from his wine. At least his day involves day drinking after all.
Quinlan grins, wide and toothy, moving his own glass to make the wine swirl. He hums, eyeing Obi-Wan over the rim as he takes a sip. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, stud.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t deign to answer and instead returns to studying his menu. It’s never a good idea to let himself be goaded by Quinlan, and after years of friendship he does know all of Obi-Wan’s buttons, and even though he’s always insufferable about it, sometimes he pushes them to make Obi-Wan feel better.
“Aren’t you excited to be able to let loose in your prime cougar years?” Quinlan asks. “I distinctly remember you saying you look forward to getting finer.”
“I said older,” Obi-Wan points out without looking up.
“Same thing.” There’s that grin in Quinlan’s voice. He’s clearly not yet given up. “Come on, Kenobi, unclench. Why are you suddenly acting like your life is over?”
Obi-Wan sighs as he puts his menu down. “I’m f—”
“Mr. Kenobi?” a voice cuts in, and Obi-Wan snaps his mouth shut.
There’s an excited flutter in his chest, warm and thrilling, as he turns to face the source of the voice.
Anakin.
Anakin who had told Obi-Wan how excited he is about the opportunity to help out at the firm and with Obi-Wan’s case to gain work experience while studying to become a lawyer himself. Anakin who soaks up Obi-Wan’s attention like he’s been starving for it. Anakin who, in turn, gives Obi-Wan his own undivided attention whenever they talk, focusing on him like a laser and making Obi-Wan sweat from it beneath his shirt.
Anakin who is twenty-three years old.
Anakin who is blinking big, blue eyes at him, a faint but earnest smile playing around the corners of his mouth as Obi-Wan meets his gaze.
Obi-Wan unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” Anakin says as his eyes trail curiously over to Quinlan. “I saw you when I came in, and I thought I’d say hi.”
“No apologies necessary,” Obi-Wan says, waving him off. His mouth feels bone-dry. “Just having lunch with my f—”
“His side piece,” Quinlan cuts in with the sharp grin of a wolf. He’s leaned back in his chair, one arm hung over the backrest and holding his glass in the other hand, and oh, Obi-Wan is going to—
“He’s—you’re not.” Obi-Wan turns from Anakin to Quinlan. It comes out with far more vehemence than he anticipates, carrying a note of urgency and desperation that is entirely unbecoming on someone his age, really, especially regarding this; especially in front of Anakin. “You’re not flexible enough to be my side piece.”
Quinlan sniffs. “It’s not like you give me time to stretch.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t groan. He should’ve known better than to engage Quinlan. He does know better. ��You know you don’t have to take every opening I give you,” he points out, and regrets it immediately.
Quinlan’s grin grows impossibly sharper.
“Don’t.” Obi-Wan levels him with a look and watches Quinlan raise his eyebrows, shrugging nonchalantly.
Turning back to Anakin, Obi-Wan finds him looking—Obi-Wan would say intrigued if he didn’t know better. There is a part of him that wants to run wild imagining the things Anakin would find enthralling, the things he’d enjoy, the kind of banter he’d engage in and how he’d react. But Anakin’s gaze sweeps over Quinlan once more before returning to Obi-Wan and it’s—unsurprising and not even quite disappointing. Quinlan has an effortless charm about him that’s hard to compete with.
Not that Obi-Wan is competing. He may be on his last shred of composure and dignity when it comes to Anakin but that one is still holding.
For now.
“Apologies,” Obi-Wan offers. Anakin blinks as if he’s coming back to himself. “Quinlan grew up surrounded by mannequins, with no human interaction, so he doesn’t know what is appropriate in social situations and what is not.”
“Sorry, daddy,” Quinlan chimes in.
Obi-Wan very nearly kicks him under the table.
“Uh,” Anakin says as he drops his eyes to his feet. There’s a flush high on his cheeks: a pretty, dusky pink that draws Obi-Wan’s attention like a beacon. He’s seen Anakin blush before; he actually quite enjoys flustering that boy himself and watching the color spread across his tanned skin. Anakin’s responsiveness is intoxicating. It’s dangerous.
Anakin looks back up and releases his bottom lip, now even plumper than usual and slightly shiny with spit, from between his teeth.
Obi-Wan’s last shred grows precariously thin.
Anakin clears his throat before he says, “Uh, nice to—um—meet you,” as he turns his attention to Quinlan once more.
Obi-Wan is never going out with Quinlan again, no matter how slim the chances are of running into Anaki—people. Who Obi-Wan may or may not be more or less ruinously attracted to.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan starts before Quinlan gets rolling again, “works at the law firm handling m—the divorce. He’s helping with the case.”
Quinlan’s eyebrows rise in interest and so does Obi-Wan’s blood pressure. “Is he?” Quinlan comments, in a tone that is far too casual for Obi-Wan’s liking. He hums, diverting his gaze from Obi-Wan back to Anakin. “And how is that going?”
Anakin ducks his head again and the way his lashes fan out over his cheeks is criminal. Obi-Wan takes a sip of his wine, bemoaning the fact that its quality is too good to burn on the way down his throat to distract him.
“Sorry we couldn’t get you your dog,” Anakin says, looking back up and squarely at Obi-Wan. The earnestness in Anakin’s big, blue eyes makes Obi-Wan’s gut clench with the desire to ravish him.
He smiles mildly instead. “Oh, that is quite alright,” he promises. “It has always been Satine’s dog. I am not a pet person myself. But the dog did get me the beach house in Naboo.” Despite himself, Obi-Wan can’t keep the satisfied glee out of his voice entirely.
Quinlan barks out a laugh and Anakin stares at Obi-Wan as if he’s seeing him for the first time. Which, Obi-Wan supposes, cursing himself for his own arrogance, he does. Leveraging the damn dog to get the beach house had been a dick move but he’d felt petty and vindictive at the time. Satine loves her flea carpet too much to have given it up just to spite Obi-Wan. Of course, Obi-Wan hadn’t told Anakin any of that for fear of losing Anakin’s eager attention.
Good job.
“Oh.” It rushes out of Anakin in an exhale. “That’s—you’re—”
“Such a bitch?” Obi-Wan suggests, choosing to own his gracelessness.
“Yeah,” Anakin says—and immediately colors beautifully. “No! No, of course not.” He clears his throat, hands flexing. “You just—you know how to get what you want.”
There’s an odd quality to his voice, a sort of low, alluring timbre that sounds…obscene.
Or maybe Obi-Wan is just a dirty old pervert.
Quinlan looks like he’s having the time of his life when Obi-Wan’s gaze lands on him after averting his eyes from Anakin. Oh, he’s never going to hear the end of this. At least Quinlan is keeping his mouth shut for once.
When Obi-Wan chances a glance back at Anakin, Anakin’s eyes are tracking over his suit, and the precise attention of his gaze makes heat rise up within Obi-Wan.
“Special occasion?” Anakin asks when he notices Obi-Wan looking. His eyes flicker to Quinlan for a brief moment.
Obi-Wan is so busy trying to decipher what conclusion Anakin could possibly have come to that he momentarily forgets to answer.
“It’s his birthday.” Quinlan mock-whispers, pressing his right hand to the left corner of his mouth conspiratorially. “He’s being very blushy about turning fifty.”
If Obi-Wan was a lesser man, he might have considered amicicide. As it is, he feels himself brace for something as a wave of dread washes over him and drowns whatever imaginary chance he may have entertained about having with Anakin.
“Fifty?” Anakin says. His eyes track over Obi-Wan like lasers. “Really?”
Quinlan smirks. “Like a fine wine.”
“I’m a very exclusive vintage,” Obi-Wan snaps. He doesn’t chug the rest of his wine but it is a close call, especially when Quinlan’s smirk grows wider, more mischievous.
“An acquired taste,” he offers.
Obi-Wan puts amicicide back on the table.
But then Anakin croaks, “Yeah,” and it sounds like all the air comes rushing out of his lungs. He looks a little faint.
“What?”
Anakin blinks and clears his throat. “I better get going, uh,” he says. Obi-Wan can watch the flush work its way down Anakin’s throat and disappear below the collar of his shirt.
(He wants to follow it all the way down with his tongue.)
“I’m, uh, running late already.” Anakin sucks in a breath. “Happy birthday, Mr. Kenobi.”
Anakin is already retreating when Obi-Wan finds his voice again. “Obi-Wan,” he corrects, without even thinking.
Anakin stops and looks at him. “Obi-Wan,” he repeats, a little wondrous, a little breathless, as if he’s revealing a secret. The sound of it runs through Obi-Wan like molten gold.
Obi-Wan clenches his jaw, imagining what his name would sound like if Anakin moaned it, gasped it, screamed it while writhing in pleasure beneath him.
With a final nod, Anakin turns and walks away. He’s not wearing a suit jacket today, exposing the long lines of his torso. Obi-Wan has wondered more than once how his hands would look on Anakin’s trim waist. As his eyes trail after him, Obi-Wan imagines grabbing it, pulling Anakin back against his body by it and—
He tears his gaze away and makes himself breathe a deep inhale and exhale.
Quinlan is practically noisily vibrating with barely contained glee when Obi-Wan turns back to him.
“Thinking about getting yourself a little birthday treat?” he asks, leaning forward like Obi-Wan is going to tell him a juicy piece of gossip any second.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Obi-Wan says. It’s a pointless battle, he’s aware. “I’m more than twice his age.”
Quinlan kinks an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “So?”
“He could be my—”
“Boy toy?”
He says it just as the waiter arrives at their table to take their dessert orders. Obi-Wan wonders if he can get them to substitute the coffee in their tiramisu with tequila.
He ends up ordering more wine.
“He’s cute,” Quinlan notes as he hands his menu back to the waiter.
“He’s too young for you,” Obi-Wan retorts drily. He’s drunk the last of his wine already which is a shame because he really needs to throw something back.
Quinlan snorts and wiggles his eyebrows. “Oh, he is. We both know I lean more towards…man toys.”
Obi-Wan passes a hand down his face and swallows the groan that threatens to burst out of him. Quinlan cackles as if someone told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. Bastard.
“Are you going to ask out the pretty baby lawyer?” Quinlan asks, nudging Obi-Wan with the tip of his foot under the table. “Bang it out? You deserve a nice rebound screw. I bet he meets your high standard of flexibility.”
Obi-Wan will hear about it until either he dies or Quinlan.
“Youth does not equal flexibility,” Obi-Wan points out.
“But you have fantasized about bending him in half,” Quinlan states. He states. Like it’s a fact. Like he knows it to be a proven truth.
The worst part is that he’s right. Which Obi-Wan can’t admit to his face because Quinlan might pop a gleeful aneurysm.
(…maybe Obi-Wan should admit to it.)
He’s spared the embarrassment of answering because the waiter returns with their desserts. It’s not like there is anything he can say to convince Quinlan otherwise anyway and Obi-Wan doesn’t feel like arguing about it.
“Seriously, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan starts as he generously piles his dessert’s whipped cream onto his spoon. “What’s the big deal?”
Sometimes he feels like Quinlan is being deliberately obtuse and it’s one of his most irritating qualities. “Because I am fifty, getting divorced from my wife of twenty-three years, which is, coincidentally, also how old Anakin is, and I am starting petty arguments with her just to get the things I want out of this divorce even though this split is mutual. I think I’m having enough of a midlife crisis as it is,” Obi-Wan points out through gritted teeth. He doesn’t need to add fucking a twenty-something to the list pathetic things men his age do. “Besides, Anakin is just being friendly. He saw a client, he said hello. It’s called ‘being polite’. You should add that to your behavioral repertoire.”
Quinlan looks entirely unimpressed. He scoops up more whipped cream. “A divorce isn’t a midlife crisis. Turning fifty isn’t either,” he says with a shrug before spooning the cream into his mouth. “And from where I’m sitting, Anakin was very politely turned on, so you know, that boy is DTF—down to frolic, to explain it with your elderly vocabulary, and he’s young enough to know all the tricks in the book to help you relieve all that stress and tension.”
Before Obi-Wan can respond, the waiter reappears at their table carrying a tray with two empty wine glasses and a bottle.
“We didn’t order this,” Obi-Wan explains when the waiter puts down the glasses in front of them.
“This is courtesy of Organa and Amidala,” the waiter answers with a small smile as he starts pouring the wine. “Happy birthday, Mr. Kenobi.”
Quinlan picks up the bottle once the waiter leaves and reads the label, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “Courtesy of Organa and Amidala, huh?” Raising his glass to his nose to smell the bouquet, his grin widens. “A very nice vintage. Bet he really enjoys these old grapes himself.”
Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut and draws his fingers over his beard, trying to will himself away. He can feel heat rising into his face. The truth is if he allows himself to entertain any thought of actually…engaging Anakin, there is now way he’ll be able to stop. The thought of pursuing Anakin ignites an excited flutter in his stomach, a wildfire of desire that licks up his spine and dries out his mouth. Anakin entices him in a way nothing has in a long time.
It would be inappropriate to take advantage of Anakin’s interest, especially since Obi-Wan’s own stems from the selfish wish of distracting himself from his current situation and to satisfy his own desires. Anakin deserves better than that.
And yet the thought of peeling Anakin out of his suit piece by piece and spreading him out on his bed doesn’t leave Obi-Wan’s mind.
Obi-Wan surrenders his own dessert to Quinlan and decidedly does not think about having one that is way better. In return, he gets a dozen more innuendos that get progressively worse and worse but somehow still manage to make him bite back exasperated laughs.
“Your lunch has already been paid for, another courtesy by Organa and Amidala,” the waiter explains after Quinlan’s ordered the bill. He places the check presenter on the table in front of Quinlan.
Quinlan scowls. “Then what is this?”
The waiter smiles politely. “Mr. Skywalker covered Mr. Kenobi’s bill.”
Obi-Wan has rarely seen Quinlan this flabbergasted. His gaze drops from the waiter to Obi-Wan and he narrows his eyes at Obi-Wan’s barely contained smirk.
“You deserve each other,” he hisses as he puts his credit card into the presenter and hands it back over.
Obi-Wan starts to believe that that may be true.
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anakin, explaining the 600 dollar bottle of wine on the bill: it’s mr. kenobi’s birthday 👉👈
padme:
anakin: it’s his fiftieth birthday 🥺 👉👈
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stephsageek · 7 months
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