#sorry this took so long nonny

[keys-hellscape-1020]

I am on my knees begging for Tim Drake content PLEASE-

maybe like funny flirty friends to lovers (where all his family know your destined to get together except you guys are oblivious) and a hint of stoner!tim vibes?

thank you love you xx

Mmmm yes yes yes I love this it’s scrumptious thank you for the ask sorry it took so long 😭

Content warnings: very brief mentions of alcohol, Dick Jason and Damian are little shits, Tim and you are oblivious, cursing, let me know if I missed anything

————

You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to go to these galas as Tim’s date when he shows up late every time. You linger by the buffet that had been arranged for the night, offhandedly sipping a flute of champagne as you wait for Tim to arrive. You’re just lucky that Bruce is the one hosting tonight and Alfred had let you in, otherwise you’re certain that security would make you wait outside for Tim, who was the one who had actually been invited, to arrive.

You’re mind is wandering, thoughts of anything but where you are drifting through your mind when a tap on your shoulder prompts you to turn, a polite smile plastered onto your face that drops the instant you see who tapped you.

“He still hasn’t showed?” Jason questions as he moves to stand next to you.

“Nope.” You pop, sipping your champagne as you survey the crowd with a bored expression. “I swear the next time he tries to drag me to one of these I’m straight up stabbing him.”

“I’ll give you 20 bucks if you actually do it.” Jason quips, looking over at you with a playful look that causes you to give him an unimpressed glare. Jason rolls his eyes and scoffs in response.

“Stop trying to turn them against me.” Tim groans as he suddenly appears next to you, a hand wrapping around your waist as he snatches your champagne from you and downs it.

You deadpan as he hands you your now empty glass and leans half his weight against you, resting his head on your shoulder. “Sorry I’m late, some old ass man wouldn’t stop talking to me.”

“That one CEO who keeps trying to make stupid ass business deals?” Jason asks with a cocked eyebrow, watching as Tim practically glues himself to your side.

“That’s the one.” Tim groans out into the skin of your shoulder, where his face is now hidden.

“You’re not helping the rumors y’know.” Jason teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you as Tim flips him off.

“Fuck off.” Tim groans, Jason pointedly looks between you and Tim before becoming one with the crowd. It never ceases to amaze you how easily everyone in this this family disappears when they wish. You turn your head slightly to look at Tim. It’s clear he hasn’t put much effort into his appearance. The suit he has on is expensive, how could it not be, but wrinkled all the same. His hair is pointing in a million different directions and you swear you see different colored socks on underneath his shoes.

“When’s the last time you slept?” You ask gently as you rake your fingers through his hair, trying to tidy it up.

“Mmm… Thursday.” He slurs, leaning into your touch.

“Tim.” You exclaim, pulling back as much as he’ll let you to look him in the eye. “It’s Saturday evening.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I’ve gone longer with less.” He says offhandedly, attempting to pull you to be flush with him once more.

You resist his attempts by hastily setting your empty glass down and putting your hands on his shoulders to make eye-contact. “That isn’t healthy Tim.” You say firmly. You’re about to continue lecturing him when you’re stopped by the sight of Bruce Wayne making his way towards you.

You pull back suddenly as Bruce’s hand lands on Tim’s shoulder. “Getting scolded?” He teases as his hand goes to ruffle Tim’s hair. Tim makes an indignant noise and bats his hand away to the best of his ability.

“Tim just told me he hasn’t slept since Thursday.” You say bluntly, Tim giving you a betrayed glare as you shamelessly tattle to his dad, who gives you a mildly horrified look.

“Tim, you need to sleep-“ he begins before he gets cut off by Tim rolling his eyes so hard you swear you can hear it.

“Says the man who’ll work for 3 days straight if Alfred doesn’t intervene.” Tim gripes, giving Bruce an unimpressed look.

Bruce opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off by sharply gripping Tim’s elbow and give Bruce a pleading look. “I can take him to the library and try to make him get some sleep if you cover for him?”

Bruce seems to hesitate briefly before nodding. “Okay okay, I’ll tell everyone he wasn’t feeling well and you went with to take care of him but make sure he actually rests.” Bruce says as he gives you a pointed look.

You nod eagerly and start dragging Tim away. “I will! Thank you so much mister Wayne!”

————

You let out a sigh of relief once the doors to the library close behind you. Tim lets out a soft chuckle. “He defiantly knew what you were doing.” He teases, watching fondly as you sit on a nearby couch and take off your shoes with a groan.

“So? He let us leave didn’t he?” You question, moving to lounge against the arm of the couch.

Tim rolls his eyes but sits next to you anyway. “I’m never hearing the end of this.” He groans as he leans his head against the back of the couch.

“Well you can go back to the party if you want but I’m staying right here.” You quip as you stretch out your legs over his lap, he instinctively starts massaging the muscles of your calves gently.

You both rest there in silence, and you almost start to believe that Tim is asleep, his hands have stilled against your legs and his head is tipped back against the couch, his mouth hanging open slightly. You lean forward slightly, just barley tracing your finger along the edge of his jaw, you eyes trail to his lips, you wonder how they would taste-

Your moment is cut off by the loud sound of the solid wood door hitting the wall with a loud bang, causing you to jolt up and Tim to grab your shoulder defensively only to relax slightly when he sees it’s just Dick and Damian.

“Really Drake?” Damian scoffs as he comes to stand in front of you both. “You barely made an appearance for 20 minutes before you ran off-“

“Oh leave them alone D.” Dick chortles from where he stands by the door, making sure it hadn’t been cracked from Damian’s sudden entrance. “Can’t you see the lovebirds just wanted some alone time?” He teases.

You both start speaking in unison, making comments and claims over how you two are certainly not lovebirds only to slowly trail off at Dick’s satisfied expression and Damian’s look of utter disappointment.

“Honestly why do you waste your time on an imbecile such as Drake when there are better men who would properly date you-“ Damian fails to finish giving you his saged love advice as Tim promptly tackles him to the ground, both of them squawking indignantly as Dick struggles to break them up.

You let out a pained groan and lean back against the couch. You listen to the sounds of fighting and yelling for a moment before speaking in a firm voice that’d you found to be effective from prior experience. “I will give you to the count of 10.” You say threateningly, the pinnacle of both pissed off and strangely calm. You can barely get to the count of two before they’re pushing away from each other, mumbled apologies leaving their lips from their respective spots on the floor.

Dick looks between all three of you in amusement before speaking up. “With that kinda talent you’ve gotta marry into this family.” Dick teases. Tim gives him a look of warning.

You let out a sigh as Dick continues to waggle his eyebrows at you, seemingly unbothered by the death glare Tim is shooting at him. “Why would they want to marry Drake when he refuses to date them?” Damian asks, looking between you all in confusion.

Tim clears his throat awkwardly before standing and giving his brothers his best attempt at an unbothered look through the rosy hue on his cheeks. “Why did you two come in here in the first place?”

Dick gives you a knowing look and shrugs. “We wanted to see where you ran off to.” Damian nods in agreement. “Yes. Titus would be very disappointed if you left before greeting him.” Damian says, giving you a pointed look.

Tim cocks an eyebrow. “What about me? You didn’t wonder where I went?” He asks indignantly.

“No.” Damian says bluntly as he grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet. “Come. Titus wishes to see you.”

You can’t help but laugh as Damian begins to lead you through the empty halls of the manor, Tim and Dick following behind you. Damian informs of what Titus, Alfred the cat, and his other animals have been up to as you walk. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard him speak so long without threatening someone.

————

Somewhere in-between arriving at Damian’s room and sitting down with Titus to let him attempt to curl into your lap you realize that Tim and Dick had left. You had assumed that they would be back shortly but after Damian had fallen asleep against your shoulder you realize that perhaps you should go search them out.

You carefully wiggle out from Damian’s hold, gently resting his head on Titus’ side as they both rest peacefully. You crack the door open and slip out, heading down the dark, eerie hallway towards the sliver of light you see peeking out from underneath Tim’s door.

You raise your fist to knock but stop yourself at the sound of voices. You hesitate a moment, not knowing what to do before you gently put your ear up against the door to listen to who he’s speaking to.

“Seriously dude, you’ve just gotta do it. Like ripping off a band-aid.” You’d recognize that distinct grumble anywhere, that’s clearly Jason.

“They even know about your secret identity! You literally have no reason to keep putting it off!” And that chipper tone is without a doubt Dick.

You hear a quiet grumble and press yourself closer to the door, trying to hear who said what. You hear nothing but quiet words that you can’t make out and sighs and then Tim’s door is swinging open, causing you to crash to the floor with a bashful look on your face.

“Ah, oops?” You squirm under the teasing gazes of the two older Wayne brothers who look at each other a moment before casually stepping over you to leave the room. After a moment they disappear into the hallway leaving you to become embarrassed as you attempt to wipe the nonexistent dirt off the fancy outfit you’d worn to the gala. You stand and fiddle with the hem of your sleeve for a moment, Tim looks similarly embarrassed. He’s changed from his suit and is instead in a large sleep shirt and gym shorts, the strings of which he’s picking at incessantly.

“I uh- didn’t really mean to eavesdrop.” You say quietly, scuffing at the wooden floor with your bare foot.

Tim is quiet in response and you worry that you might’ve upset him, just before you can say something that you’d most likely find embarrassing later however Tim is speaking. “I need to tell you something.” He says it so quietly you have to lean in to hear it, and at the anxious expression on his face you approach him cautiously, giving him your best attempt at a comforting look.

“You can always tell me anything.” You say as you take his hands in yours to keep him from picking at his clothes. His hands are chapped and rough against your soft skin and you can’t help but take a brief moment to admire them.

He takes in a deep, shaky breath before the words tumble out of his mouth so quick you can’t understand him. “Ilikeyouandreallywannadateyouandyou’rereallyfuckingprettyand-“ You have to slap one of your hands over his mouth to get him to stop talking.

“Deep breath.” You prompt calmly. “And slow down. I couldn’t understand a word you said.”

He takes a deep breath at your request and gazes down at where you hold his hands tenderly. “I uh- I really like you and was um… wondering if you wanted to date.” This time he says it so quiet you almost can’t hear his words. Almost.

You cup his cheek softly and bring his face level to yours so he has no choice but to make eye-contact with you. “I was wondering when you would ask.” You say softly, eyeing his lips shamelessly.

Tim’s eyes go wide for a moment before he chuckles softly and leans in to kiss you chastely. He pulls back after a moment and gently rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” He whispers against your skin as you hold each other gently in the lamp light of his room.

————

“Oh I’m gonna be fucking rich!” Your moment is cut short by Jason and Dick causing a scene right outside of Tim’s still open door.

“That’s so unfair!” Dick whines. “You read romance novels! You had an unfair advantage!”

Jason thrusts his middle finger in his older brother’s face. “Never underestimate the power of Austen bitch!” Jason chortles as Dick attempts to grab his hand. You sigh tiredly as Tim’s head hits your shoulder with a thump, his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

“Do you still have some of my clothes here?” You ask quietly as you watch the two fight.

“I do.” Tim suggests.” Or, since we’re dating now, you could wear one of my shirts to bed.” You snort when you feel Tim wiggle his eyebrows against your skin.

“I’m not sleeping without pants on around your family.” You tease, running your fingers through his hair as he practically melts into you.

“That’s a good point.” He mumbles as he squeezes his arms around you tightly. “This is for me alone.”

[afewproblems]

agree with steve not forgiving eddie! how do you think it would go when they see each other for the first time after everything? like.. I feel like steve would just tell him it’s over for good but :O

Part one, part two, part three

The record label releases a statement, something to the effect of privacy concerns, not to misconstrue or blow things out of proportion because photos can be manipulated. There is no firm denial, but no confirmation either. It's all wishy washy bullshit.

It's like Steve's heart breaks all over again.

He doesn't speak to the press, despite redoubling their efforts to talk to him, Steve unplugs their home phone permanently, wraps it up in the cord and puts it in the back of the bedroom closet.

Eddie does try calling Steve's cell, but he never leaves a message, as though he knows they would go unheard.

After the initial visit from Wayne he ends up calling his de facto father in-law once a week. It's nice, it's the one good thing that has come out of this whole situation.

And Wayne doesn't seem to mind being their go between, especially since he's a lot less subtle than he thinks, asking pointed questions about how Steve is feeling, how he's handling the LOA.

It's a relief to say the least, talking to Eddie without talking to him, it allows him to breath.

It's quiet for about two weeks, the coverage of the photo and the story has dwindled significantly and the media seem to have moved on from talking about them, finally.

Steve's LOA is almost over, he's confirmed with Liz that he can return to the classroom next week as planned which leaves him in the highest spirits he's been in all month.

But of course it can't last.

The first time Steve sees Eddie is on Conan.

It's a Thursday night, Steve channel surfs absently. He's left the living room dim, the only lights from the television and the Chicago cityscape glowing through the living room window.

He lands on NBC for just a moment and freezes when he hears Gareths familiar voice speaking.

Gareth, Eddie, Jeff, and Grant are all seated on the set couch with Andy Richter. Conan asks a few questions about their tour, their recent resurgence in popularity from the movie, their favorite Marvel characters from the franchise that skyrocketed them back into the public scene.

Its a standard interview, Conan keeps it light, easy-going, not a single mention of the infamous photo.

Logically Steve knows this is most likely a mandate from the band's manager but it doesn't feel that way, it feels like a slap to the face if he's being honest with himself.

Did he imagine it? Had he blown this whole thing out of proportion? Maybe he was overreacting.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table he's left his feet on, Robin's face and 'Thing One', brightens up the room.

Steve moves his feet to sit up properly and he mutes the television with the remote before answering.

"Are you seeing this shit?" she growls on the line.

Steve laughs, "Hello to you too," he leans into the worn cushions of the couch and tries not to think of the second empty divot in the middle next to him, "yeah I'm seeing it".

"And they're not going to talk about it at all? Like what about journalistic integrity and all that shit?"

Steve rolls his eyes and snorts into the receiver, "I don't think Late Night counts as journalism Bobs--"

"Still," she huffs out.

Robin is quiet for a second before she says softly, "you okay?"

"No," he whispers, "but I think I'm the closest I'll be for awhile," he draws a heavy hand through his hair and ignores the cameras which have now panned to Eddie who looks pensive on screen.

He's not speaking, in fact Eddie hasn't said a word the entire interview. He looks tired, his normally pale face has turned sallow and drawn with deep purple bags under his eyes that even the show makeup has not covered.

Steve looks away from the screen and ignores the dull ache in his chest.

"I'm glad that it's not all over the news anymore," he admits after a moment, "but, its almost like it never happened".

Robin hums sympathetically on the line, "Twenty-four hour news cycle, they've probably found some new scandle to follow," she's quiet for another second, "he looks like shit".

Steve barks out a surprised laugh that trails off sharply, he chews his lip for a second, "is it crazy that I'm worried about him? He looks likes he's not sleeping--"

"Steve..."

"I know, I know, I'm am angry with him and I don't think that will go away any time soon, but look at him".

The camera angle switches to a wide shot of the whole group and Eddie stands out so starkly amongst the other band members that are put together, smiling, engaged in the conversation.

Verses the silent, pale ghost that Steve doesn't even recognize.

"Do not let that kicked puppy thing let him off the hook Steve," Robin says, the words are sharp but the tone is still gentle, "he hurt you just because you had a fight--"

"Maybe it wasn't that simple!"

"Steve..."

"I miss my husband Robin, I can't, I fucking hate that he did this but I miss him so much," he says, his voice wobbles slightly as Conan holds up a large version of Corroded Coffin's latest album on the desk before gesturing to the stage area to reveal their setup to start playing.

"I feel like there's something wrong with me," Steve says, giving voice to the smallest parts of himself that have been festering inside of him the last couple of days.

The longer they're apart, the longer he refuses to speak to Eddie to more these thoughts have been creeping in. Maybe he should just let it go, maybe he can eventually forgive him and they can move forward again.

It's countered again and again by the image, the kiss.

Imagining the two of them together, Eddie with this stranger. Did he call them Honeybee, the way he did Steve? Did he hold them after and whisper other sweet nothings, promises into their ears?

It's enough to turn his stomach.

"I don't know what to do, I can't exist like this much longer, the tour is going to be over soon and then what?"

"I don't know Steve, you're the only one that can make that decision, but," he can hear the small reassuring smile on her face as she speaks, "we'll be here for you no matter what you decide, I promise".

"Thank you".

"Anytime Dingus".

***

The second time Steve sees Eddie is a month after the Conan interview.

Steve's back at work and the kids seem happy to see him, though they are sad that the 'easy' sub days are done. He's glad for the routine once more, especially with the end of the tour looming on the horizon.

Steve has spent the last week fretting over what to do, he's talked to Robin and Dustin about it, weighing the pros and cons. He's talked to Wayne about contingency plans for the apartment, if he has space for one of them to go there.

Steve is fairly certain Eddie would go stay with Wayne willingly if he asked him to, but both of their names are on the mortgage and he'd rather be prepared for anything.

It's Gareth that calls him, his name lights up the darkened bedroom while the picture of Gareth and Chrissy and Steve and Eddie at their place for Thanksgiving two years ago flashes on the tiny screen.

It's late, almost two in the morning, but Steve is awake. He hesitates before snatching the device with shaking hands and swipes a hesitant thumb across the screen to answer the call.

"Hey Gar," Steve says quietly.

He sits up, letting the covers pool around his waist and stifles a small yawn with his hand.

"Oh, Steve, I...fuck is it good to hear your voice man," Gareth breathes out, he sounds surprised, nervous, "I wasn't expecting you to actually answer this," he trails off and clears his throat.

"I wasn't asleep," Steve shrugs.

There's a pause on the line, Steve can hear Gareth take a deep breath and the hushed words of someone in the background.

"I, God, Steve, I'm so sorry, I hate that we weren't there for you," he continues, and Steve can't help but agree with that sentiment.

It's certainly felt like the only one of his friends from Eddie's circle in his corner was Wayne, he hasn't heard from any of the band members or Chrissy since this happened and he can't say it hasn't stung.

"And I know you must hate us for this--"

"Gareth, I dont--" Steve tries with a small tired voice but Gareth barrels onward, the words getting faster as he speaks.

"I won't make any excuses, we should have done better by you and the fucking label knew exactly what they were doing," he breathes out again and this time its infinitely more pained, "and I hate to do this Steve, I know you already told him that you needed more time--"

"You're coming back?"

"Yeah, we fly in tomorrow actually," Gareth says softly, "and we just, well we wanted you to know".

Steve feels his heartrate quicken, he swallows harshly against the sudden lump in his throat.

Tomorrow? Tomorrow, with no warning, no notice, and suddenly Eddie would be back. He'd be coming home...

"I want to see him," Steve hears himself say before he can clamp his mouth shut, "I...can you tell him that, I need to talk to him?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, uh," Gareth stammers out, then the sound is muffled for a moment as though a hand has been placed over the receiver, lowered voices murmur in the background and Steve feels himself drag in a sudden breath, as though he had forgotten to breath at some point.

"Okay, Steve?"

"Yeah," he whispers into the darkness of his bedroom.

"He'll be there".

***

The clock ticks slowly by, interrupting the quiet of the apartment and every time Steve looks at the clock face it's still only been forty minutes since Gareth texted to tell him they've landed at O'Hare.

It's like the clock is mocking him, the minute hand holding court over the kitchen where Steve has planted himself with a full cup of, now undrinkable, tepid tea.

He initially debated offering to pick them up from the airport, but the thought of their first meeting being so public, the thought of camera flashes and more people asking questions was enough to turn his stomach.

Even now Steve isn't sure how he'll react when Eddie walks through that door, his hands shake slightly and a flicker of anxiety runs through his chest because what if he's not alone? If he brought Gareth with him, or Jeff as some kind of backup or shield from Steve's anger.

Steve scoffs to himself at the thought, they'd seen a lot of Steve over the years, he's sure this wouldn't phase them. Maybe they'd even stand aside and let Eddie take his verbal lumps.

Steve sighs and grabs the mug from the counter before walking it over to the microwave. He sets it for thirty seconds and waits with his fingers drumming against the door handle. He opens the microwave before it beeps and presses the cancel button to reset the time before he walks back to the counter and stool he had been perched on.

Steve steals another glance at the clock and curses, make that forty-five minutes since Gareths message.

The sudden sound of a key sliding into a lock snatches Steve's attention towards the entryway.

Eddie steps through, wheeling his suitcase in behind him, he lets his backpack fall onto the doormat and softly closes the front door behind him. Eddie looks even more tired than he had during the interview, thinner as well and Steve feels that familiar pang in his chest at the sight.

Neither says anything for a moment. They stare at each other unmoving, and then...

"Hi Honeybee".

That's all it takes for Steve to jump off the stool and stride through the kitchen to the foyer, he stops just in front of Eddie, takes in his shining eyes and the sharp downturn of his normally smiley mouth and Steve's last resolve snaps into pieces.

He launches himself into Eddies arms and tucks his face into his neck, it's the first time he's felt remotely normal in the last two months.

"I'm so fucking angry with you," Steve hisses but the words sound more like a sob than anything else.

"I know, I'm angry with me too," Eddie whispers into his ear, he holds Steve even tighter as he speaks.

"I just, you're the person I talk to, about everything and," Steve bites his lip and curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie's t-shirt, "I couldn't do that, I didn't have you, you’re my person Eddie and you took that from me, and so much shit happened here, you dont even--".

He's fully crying now, so much that it's harder to speak, but Eddie is holding him so tightly he can't catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Eddie says, his voice wobbles and wanes as the words tangle in Steves hair, "if I could take it back I would, I wish I could take it back Stevie believe me".

"It didn't mean anything, it didn't," he continues, raising one hand to card through Steve's hair as he does, "I don't know how to fix this," he admits so quietly its nearly lost in Steve's sniffles and hitching breaths.

"I don't want to lose you," Steve whispers into Eddies shoulder, the material of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot but he raises his face anyway to meet Eddie's own red rimmed eyes.

"Then you won't," Eddie whispers again, he sniffs and moves his hand to cup Steve's cheek, "we'll fight, we'll fight for it and I won't give up, I won't run this time".

"I promise".

There is so much more to talk about now, so much to apologize for, but for now, they hold each other in the foyer, letting the golden Chicago light morph into the bronze orange of sunset wash over them from the kitchen window.

[marvelsswansong]

Imagine corio seeing a woman flirt with r he’s so confused cuz he’s used to disgusting men after her only

no but like seriously 🌞👉👈

Corio isn't oblivious to the fact that there is a price for dating someone as beautiful as you. Namely, that others - doesn't matter if they're complete strangers or close working colleagues - will secretly want you, with some of them even being bold enough to try and entice you.

This is all much to his annoyance, as he tries being very public about the fact that you're his. Think constant arm around your waist, aggressive kisses in public, loudly calling you 'darling' from across the room. But that doesn't seem to deter everyone.

Especially not the types of men in the Capitol.

If he's feeling calmer that day, he might just stop at glaring at the man whilst pulling you away by the waist, or knocking the breath of you by suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you fiercely for the crowd of men to see. If he's in a sour mood, or it's been a hard week, you have to be careful to keep an eye on the blonde in case he flies into a fit of rage and his mind starts to scan the room for whatever is sharp and capable of causing damage.

"Sometimes I feel as if I have to babysit you." you would tease after one particularly harsh night, where you and Corio get thrown out of a house party after he smashed another man's face into the wall and then proceeded to twist the man's arm to the point of almost breaking a bone. Granted, the man had been extremely aggressive towards you and making very inappropriate comments, but it'd been rather awkward to see the stranger be carried onto an ambulance whilst the head of the household ordered the both of you out.

Chest heaving and knuckles still bruised from the impact, he'd just kiss you again, his tongue tasting of copper.

"Can't help it. You're too pretty." he whispers, and all your criticisms of him would fly out the window.

But Coriolanus is always less guarded when it's a woman around you. After all, you have so many best friends who are women, you spend so much time around grandma'am and Tigirs, and so on. He just associates women being around you with platonic love and comfort.

So when you leave him to go get some drinks at the bar, a fancy upper east side bar you've been begging to go to, he's too busy searching the room for potential men who approach you to notice the red haired woman beelining towards you. She bumps into you 'on accident', pink champagne spilling over the tip of the glass just a bit - a light splash on your jeans, but nothing too bad.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry." she quickly says, grabbing a nearby napkin to hand it off to you. Coriolanus watches the interaction from the back of the club, the specifics of your conversation with her unintelligble over the loud music, but he doesn't think anything much of it. Even when the auburn haired woman's fingers brush against yours whilst exchanging the napkin.

He watches as you smile politely at her, probably telling her that it's okay, before turning around to the bartender to make an order. The woman next to you continues to talk to you through out the exchange, which again doesn't raise any red flags to Corio.

After all, women are very friendly by nature. It's normal that someone, especially a stranger who feels bad for spilling a drink on you, wants to continue to talk to you.

You don't think much of it either on your end, other than thinking that she - Clara, she tells you her name after a soft giggle - is very nice.

It's only when the drinks arrive and the woman stops you, lightly sitting you back down and brushing away the hair from your eyes, that Coriolanus starts feeling rather odd. The sudden wide eyes on your face and the red haired woman's smirk, before she slides you a piece of paper from her back pocket and lets you go, raises a lot of questions in his mind.

His top options? Something along the lines of bribery or illegal drugs. Or maybe she's using you to get something from him. Or maybe she wants something from your family.

What he doesn't expect, is for you to come back totally speechless, fingers deftly hanging onto the small piece of paper. You look somewhere between embarrassed and shocked, refusing to meet your boyfriend's eyes as you sit down next to him. He frowns at that, patting his lap instead.

Normally, you'd sit on his legs without a second thought. This time though, you hesitate.

"What'd she want? Drugs? Mone-" he growls, only to be cut off by the stranger.

"So you weren't lying. You do have a boyfriend." the red haired woman cuts into the conversation, now sitting on the velvet chair across from you. Coriolanus swears his jaw almost drops when the woman laughs seductively, winking at you whilst uncrossing her legs.

"You can sit on my lap instead, honey."

"I, you- I just-" Coriolanus starts speaking in an attempt to swear or scare her off, but his mind totally blanks.

You've never seen your boyfriend this flustered. His pale complexion breaks into a dark shade of red, his usually stern gaze darting back and forth between you and the woman, his speech stuttered and jumbled. It's YOU who ends up having the composure to let her down gently, holding out the paper with her phone number out towards her and informing her that you love your boyfriend very much and you're not that interested.

She pouts at that, and it makes your boyfriend's jaw clench so hard his face aches.

"Aw... alright, darling. But keep the paper. You know, just in case you wanna play."

With a wink and a hair flip, she disappears into the dark crowd of sweaty bodies and loud music. It's only then that your boyfriend snaps into action, taking the paper into his hands and shredding it to pieces.

"She called you darling." he snarls, angry. "Only I get to call you darling."

You just giggle, kissing away his sour expression, before tugging at his sleeves.

"Come on, forget about it. Let's just dance." you say, the alcohol in your veins still making you feel buzzed. He complies, never being able to say no to you, but the entire night, he can't help but hold you very close and glare at everyone who approaches you or even looks at you.

Regardless of their gender.

Now, he has to protect you from everyone, he thinks.

BONUS SCENARIO (later in the night)

You've had one too many drinks and yell into Coriolanus' ear that you really need to go to the bathroom. You clutch your handbag and stumble into the corridor, leaving your boyfriend alone by the bar. A stunning blonde woman slides into the empty seat next to him, glossy lips parting to ask a question.

Thinking she's going to hit on him, he raises his right hand, stopping her on the spot.

"I'm not interested, sorry."

The woman scoffs at that, ordering a tequila shot and almost glaring at him.

"Neither am I, genius. I was just wondering if you knew the name of the cutie who just went to the bathroom."

The moment you come back, he practically drags you out of the bar and hails a cab back to the apartment.

He's had enough of women trying to steal you from him. At least for that night.

a/n: hope you guys like this small type of blurbs too in between major fics hehe

[l3viat8an]

Ro!!! What if!! What if!!! Mammon has a dick piercings!!!! But he didn’t tell you so you’re just loooking at his dick in awe!!! Thots⁉️🎤 

Nsfw!

Nonnie I’m so sorry this is from literal months ago- but it’s his birthday (in my timezone) ‘n I wanted to post SOMETHING!!!

Here you are, kneeling on the floor in Mammon’s room. The demon himself sitting on the couch in front of you, pants pushed down to his knees and cock standing at attention, his eyes following your hand as your fingertips skim over the little gold balls of his jacobs ladder piercing. (Link to a pic of a ’pierced’ banana cuz the actual dick pics make me laugh shjshshshsh)

“Did it hurt?” you ask, genuine curiosity in your voice as you start to pull your hand away, only for Mammon to grab it and guide you back to wrap it properly around his dick.

Keeping his hand around yours and setting the pace, urging you to go a little faster, until you’re jerking him off properly-

Mammon bit back a moan, before replying, “Like a fuckin’ bitch.” followed by a low chuckle at the shocked look on your face.

His hand still guiding yours, up and down his cock, your thumb rubbing across the tip to smear his per-cum down the length and making the jewelry shine for another reason-

“If it hurt that bad….why’d you do it?” You didn’t really expect an answer, hand still jerking him off as you moved your mouth closer. Wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock and sucking gently, pushing your tongue flat to rub along the top bar of his piercing before pulling off with a lewd pop.

Mammon’s other hand moves to grab a handful of your hair, guidelines you back down towards his cock, your mouth falling open again as you take him in again, deeper this time.

Hearing the demon above you, moaning freely when your tongue starts sliding across the ladder and his dick twitches in your mouth, “Keep fuckin’ suckin’ me like that, and I promise I’ll show ya.”

[theysangastheyslew]

if there’s inspiration or anything, is it possible to have a LH “In another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you." Art 😭

Hi anon! I’m sorry I didn’t know if this meant showing them desiring that life w/ each other, or if you wanted to see them actually living it but! since it’s Hange’s birthday I went with the latter bc they deserve it and breakfast in bed is a far better present than the one Isayama gave to them :')

[stunie]

I’m an Umemiya girlie (and Togame) through and through but I’ve recently started to see Sakura’s appeal. Do you have any recs handy for good Sakura fics?

-🍒

HIIIII CHERRY WELCOME BACK !! hope ur doing awesome!!! (: 🤍 sakura appeal is so real. here is a list that i split into sfw / nsfw for you <33 uhh but they’re not all fics !! i put the long ones at the top tho xx

also so sorry . i read so many that i can’t remember them all :’) i didn’t include very many but these r some of the recent ones ive read !! make sure to read their rules before interacting as always!! (also amazing taste. ume girlies <333 yes .)

NSFW STUFF:

exposure therapy (ft. suo). this fic ! the one where i maxxed my tags ? yes this one. the characterization is unreal. it’s a must read. a MUST READ.

you fuck in ume’s bed (🥲) i’m not gonna link eve’s entire masterlist here but head straight to her account if u need sakura!! there’s like three other fics i can see rn >///<

phone sex . god . i’m not gonna say anything else. just read the first paragraph and you’ll understand.

raw for the first time !!!!!!!! this made me fall to my knees btw. i actually squatted down against the floor bc i wasn’t gonna read this standing .

SFW STUFF:

miscommunication : i haven’t read the full fic version yet wtf ??? i read the short version. i will be reblogging this one soon. it was so. so. cute.

CUTENESS AGGRESSSSSIONN : u BITE sakura and it’s cute.

decorating his room! : this made me soft … he needs this love fr

he gets jealous : HE GOT JEALOUS OF SUO .

realizes he has a crush on u : all of bibi’s works for sakura r just ..

patching him up after a fight : CUTE. CUTIE . YEAH !

he visits the bakery u work at : he’s trying his best here !!!

calling him by his first name : sakura ko’d by this btw

you feed him veggies : now how did u manage to do that ??

there’s only one bed .. : oh dear .

[mellowwillowy]

I love Yulian, my silly lawyer<3 anyways I was thinking if you could write something with Yulian, darling and eve since eve wants to marry Yulian(?)

Nonnie you just dropped down a nuclear bomb to a peaceful archive, I'll sue you for that.

(Update: I can't, my brain froze so have this old art of Eve in Uphill Daisies ft. Yulian)

[pinkmirth]

What do you think Reiner and his s/o would argue about in a relationship? I can't imagine it would last long

BACK TALK, reiner braun !

SYNOPSIS — just a fluffy lil drabble about reiner wanting to take care of you. he doesn’t want to argue, but you’re just so stubborn…

CONTAINS — 1k words of . . . fluff, fem!reader (black coded), “girly-girl” reader, reiner feeds you, lowercase intended, just sappy stuff with this caring gentleman <3 (kinda sorta self indulgent!)

this is a tough one, nonnie…. only because maturity is reiner’s best attribute! picking a problem with you is the last thing this man wants to do, and he’s very slow to anger. you’re right about any disputes not lasting long! even if he tried, reiner can’t stay mad at you.

the most that could happen between you and him are petty squabbles about preferences, something dumb like waffles over pancakes! the pair of you ultimately laugh it off and end up cuddling once all is said and done. It’s hard to envision a topic that could stir such a reaction from him to the point where he’s arguing with you. i think the only thing that would get him going back and forth in an “argument” is if he’s worried about you, but you decide to be stubborn with him.

for instance, you’re tired and have been studying all day, and he just wants you to allow yourself to relax. but! you’re persistent on finishing up your assignments. he’d probably grow upset and insist that you deserve a break . . . (veryyy self indulgent ‘cause i’ve been studying for a gajillion tests lately!)

dull thuds of reiner’s heavy footsteps upon carpet announce his entrance into your room. he strolls around your cozy little home-desk, the one he helped you build a couple months back when the school semester first began. it’s adorned in sanrio stickers galore and polaroid pictures of you and him, nostalgic square photos secured with baby-pink thumbtacks. reiner circles you with a brooding silence, flitting his eyes from the slideshow on your laptop screen to your scribbled notes. you feel him linger behind your chair, but opt on saying nothing.

“baby, c’mon…” reiner calls out, his tone borderline pleading, “you’ve been here for hours.” from behind your seat, he inches in until he’s close enough to rest his weighty hands on your stiffened shoulders. reiner’s warm palms rub along the junction of your neck. it’s helping— he can see it in the way your body slackens in your swivel chair.

“i gotta prep for tomorrow’s test,” his touch brings you to release a lax hum, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on it for long. the fleeting moment of bliss he provides ends too soon, as you smooth out your oversized baby-pink tee-shirt and begin to refocus on your work.

“have you eaten?” he asks. the shake of your head brings about his frown. you could surely get your work done without depriving yourself of basic needs… all he wants is for you to be well taken care of. “no, not yet.” you spare him a glance before looking back over your laptop.

reiner’s hand shoots out, grabbing your chair and turning you halfway-round to face him. the closeness of his face to yours makes it seem like the perfect opportunity to press your lips to his and linger there for a while. instead, you remain still, choosing a safer route by stealing glances of his handsome attributes. your eyes run across his prominent collarbone peeking through his low-neck sweatshirt, the slight clench of his firm jaw, most especially the raw concern swimming in his honey-golden eyes. “why not?” reiner questions, with his brows drawn tight in worry. you whirl back around, for the sake of your own resolve.

“because i’m studying, reiner.”

“no, you’re cramming.” he corrects. reiner can read you like a damn storybook; it’s almost as though he knows you more than his very own self. “at least i’m drinking water,” you raise a bottle from your desk for emphasis. water sloshes in the cylindrical confines as you set it back down, “happy?”

reiner rolls his tongue and prods at his inner cheek. he decides to pay no mind to your little attitude. “water’s fine, but you need food.”

“a meal would be too heavy for me... i’d probably end up falling asleep.” you haphazardly shoo his suggestion, scribbling bullet points onto your notebook.

“so a snack would be better, then? your favorite fruit is in the fridge downstairs.” reiner turns on his heel, intent on coming back with a bowl of nicely-cut strawberries and mangoes. you reach out, clasping onto him forearm before he zips out of your room and descends the flight of stairs. “it’s okay, reiner.” you assure. the ends of your manicured nails ghost his wrist.

“is it really? ‘cause it’s hard to believe that you don’t want me to get anything at all.” he quirks up a thin brow as he says it. reiner knows just how much you need his support— you’re simply choosing to act like you don’t.

“i’ll get somethin’ to eat later, i promise.” with the twirl of your ballpoint-pen, you’re back to writing. this is his third time checking up on you, and you give him the same answer with every visit. all this stubbornness has gone on long enough.

“you may be busy, but you’re also tired.” he's quick to snatch the pen from your hands, right in the middle of you scrawling a sentence onto lined paper. “hey! reiner, give it—”

“nuh-uh. stop bein’ difficult about it.” he plants a large hand onto the back of your macbook and shuts it closed. you do an over-exaggerated huff, make a pout, throw in a bratty eye roll— he doesn’t care for it. what you need is to allow him take care of you. he can’t let his darling work herself to death, now can he? not in a literal sense, but he wouldn’t forgive himself for allowing this to continue.

“i’ll be right back, okay? and for the love of god, don’t open that goddamn laptop.” he makes his leave. you hear the faint hum of a microwave. it doesn’t take long for him to return, with a steaming plate of food in hand. reiner takes joy in replacing that stupid notebook of yours with the reheated dinner that he cooked up for you over an hour ago.

he pulls up a seat, scoots in close, and brings a hot forkful up to your mouth. “don’t argue. just eat, baby.”

this sly man knows that it’s your favorite food. you have no energy left to brush him off. finally, you give in. with a soft ‘ah’, you allow reiner to feed you. there’s a satisfied gleam in his eye as he stuffs your mouth with bite after bite.

“it’s good?” he softly asks. you cover your mouth while chewing, giving him a sheepish nod. “mm-hm.”

“you feel better, don’t you?” reiner nudges your shoulder with his broader one. you don’t try to fight the smile overtaking your lips. “i do…” you relent, looping your arms around his neck. he firmly hugs you in one arm, and uses his unoccupied hand to hold onto the ceramic plate. over half of the food’s gone.

he hears your quiet, sincere ‘thank you’ murmured into his chest, feels your frame relax against his. “good.” reiner sighs into your hair. he wants you to put yourself first, every single time. “that’s good.”

[bonnieisaway]

Hi Bonnie, do you have any thoughts about Dai Bo?

do you guys know the sheer dopamine hit i get everytime i'm asked shit like this. like just the fact people want to hear my thoughts enough that people go out of their way to unprompted ask me about it. drugs could not simulate this emotion

i love dai bo :3 certified hardest character to explain to any person i'm introducing to the show fr

ok but fr though i feel like his appearance lets a lot of people forget about how deep his character is and how well written he is. because he's written fucking gloriously and he is shaped by his tramua perfectly. a lot of characters in this show have to confront this sort of cycle of violence and dai bo's is more familial and generational than most other character's. he only fought for his friend's son. and he fought so hard to break the cycle. like he's the most beautiful example of breaking the cycle of violence.

SPECIFICALLY with the scene with king pheasant where he's ready to straight up kill that bitch until he looks over and sees xiao fei. and he realizes that xiao fei does not need to see this. xiao fei will not be shaped the way dai bo was, and the cycle WILL stop with dai bo. and this scene is mirrored when xiao fei and seven are going to hurt king pheasant, where dai bo tells them to leave him alone. where dai bo fights to stop the cycle.

and the way his hatred for humans is shaped by seven. how seven is the perfect person for dai bo to have ever met. the best way to prove to dai bo that humanity has good, has beauty in it; this is a man who remembers NOTHING. not even his own name. if you're watching the show in chinese, he doesn't even speak the same dialect as everybody else around him. and this factory-reset, lump of clay of a person with nothing but his own instincts is so kind and trusting. that's how dai bo learns humans can be good so quickly. not just because seven was so kind and forgiving, but because dai bo realizes seven was inherently BUILT that way. that it was his NATURE itself.

and i love the way he clings to this, too; not even just this version of seven but seven himself. because it's subtle at first, because dai bo is not the kind of person who confronts emotions, but it's noticeable. i have an old post where i pointed it out before he confirmed it in season four; when seven is so amazed and stricken by the view of xuanwu, dai bo instantly dismisses and diminishes it, dai bo is constantly upset when seven leaves without him, dai bo is desperately clinging to the seven he knows and is terrified of seven being forced to return to that cycle of violence that he escaped from.

because like, of course he is! dai bo fought for his friend's son to escape that cycle. so to see this man, who he absolutely sees as his own son, have to return to the cycle of violence, let alone for dai bo's sake, of course it destroys him. of course he wants to cling to him and try and dissuade him; who cares about everybody else, as long as you're home and safe. xuanwu not only symbolizes a home far disconnected from dai bo to seven but in dai bo's eyes it's another massive perpetuator of a violent war. i mean he makes that clear when he explains xuanwu and stan - they are the ones fighting the war, we are the normal, smaller, common folk caught in the middle; shelter yourselves and enjoy your small life here.

but violence is neverending, isn't it? even when dai bo destroyed the chicken farm and the fighting ring, what happened? king pheasant found another perpetuator for his vice in stan. another hamster wheel of violence to spin, a super solider of propoganda and murder. something so much bigger than both of them. but dai bo has to accept that seven is an integral part of this 'bigger than them' bit when it comes to xuanwu. that he has to let go of this idea of an obedient, normal, casual seven. just like accepting your son isn't your little boy anymore, that's a grown man. and aside from the metaphor itself seven is actually at the perfect age for this. seven meets dai bo when he's about 19 and fairly skinny and small, and it's mentioned/implied he's grown a bit since meeting dai bo and we know he's 21 in season four.

anyways i love dai bo. i feel like he's underrated and we need to talk about him more. although sometimes i wanna ask the director like, why specifically dai bo and xiao fei were chickens. was there a meaning or a reason or do you think it was just cause they thought it was funny and also what does this implicate about chickens and pidgeons as a whole in this universe

[wilchur]

Arthur with all of his boyfriends

They take good care of him 😌

[valeriianz]

I really liked your facial hair! Dream, if u wanted, could there be a part 2?

part 1!

While Hob was in a losing battle when it came to Dream’s facial hair, the Nightmare King-turned-human didn’t appear to have any qualms over the accumulated hair… elsewhere, on his person.

Not to say that Dream was completely hairless, before. He always had a thatch of hair on his pelvis, perhaps understanding that’s what Hob preferred? Or maybe Dream liked it? Hob never questioned it. But that would explain why Dream appeared so nonchalant about the additional hair currently growing on his body.

For starters, Dream seemed to enjoy the leg hair, curling up with Hob in bed and tangling their limbs, wrapping his ankle around Hob’s and sliding their bodies together, enjoying the friction.

The chest hair had been fun– Hob combing his fingers in wiry black strands in blind fascination– he’d never seen anything but smooth, pore-free skin on Dream before and didn’t know what to do with it. (He’d broken out of that trance real fast to nuzzle into it like a cat before fucking Dream and then coming all over his newly furred chest).

It was the stripe of hair, below Dream’s belly button, that was currently giving Hob pause.

Hob sat at his kitchen island, sipping on his morning coffee, and listening to Dream speak. 

Or, trying to. 

Dream wore a black tank top and a stolen pair of Hob’s flannel pajama bottoms, which were fighting for their life to stay on Dream’s narrow hips. Slunk low and exposing Dream’s Adonis belt and sharp hip bones that Hob loved tracing with his fingers and teeth.

Dream was saying something about the show they were seeing tonight as he stretched up on tiptoes to reach a box of cereal on the top shelf. Hob’s eyes traveled up from Dream’s gloriously firm abdomen to the tension in his bicep, resting his gaze on the flash of jet black armpit hair. Hob remembers how he’d been stunned silent, as always, by the underarm hair. Perhaps it was the transformation of Dream’s physical form, however minuscule, that got Hob all riled up. Hob was a strange person in that, he liked change. Reveled in it. If everything had stayed the same forever, he’s not sure he’d enjoy his immortal life. But that’s what made humanity so fun and fascinating… things were constantly changing.

And now Dream was, too.

Hob’s gaze shamelessly followed Dream as he moved, setting the box down on the counter and reaching up now for a bowl. Hob felt heat simmering in his belly as he took in his fill, the familiar coil of arousal beginning. He knew how Dream’s skin would taste; salty from sweat, but alkaline somehow, like seawater. It’s sweet too, cloyingly, like Dream was a delicacy to be sipped and nibbled upon, savored slowly and mulled over.

“Hob? Did you hear me?”

Hob hums distractedly as he blinks up at Dream from under his lashes.

The blue of Dream’s eyes seem to sparkle as he takes in Hob, gaze falling to the mug of coffee Hob still has his hand around, stuck to the countertop.

After a moment where Hob forgets that Dream asked him a question, he speaks up again, a knowing smile pulling up the corner of his lips.

“What are you so preoccupied with?”

“You,” Hob spoke at once, honestly. “I know I’ve said this before but humanity really does become you.”

Dream looked down at the bowl cupped in his hands and huffed quietly.

“How so?”

“Do you want me to tell you?” Hob managed to remember he had legs and hopped out of his chair, stepping around the island and into Dream’s personal space, grinning at the surprised, pleasant gasp that he made. He took the bowl out of Dream’s hands and set it on the counter. 

“Or, I could show you.” Hob finished, settling his hands on Dream’s waist, swiping his thumbs up and under the tank top, pulling him forward slightly.

“Mm…” Dream hummed, his eyes lowering in consideration. His own hands came up and set them on Hob’s– unfortunately– clothed chest, fingers twitching like he was making his mind up about something.

“Perhaps after breakfast.”

Hob swallowed a groan, pressing their foreheads together. He took another step forward, selfishly bringing attention to the semi in his pants and delighting in the sharp intake of breath from Dream.

“You love making me wait,” Hob grumbled, feeling a little pathetic but enjoying it nonetheless; how Dream seemed to preen under Hob’s impatience.

“I need sustenance, Hob.” Dream slipped his hands slowly up Hob’s shoulders and around, tangling his fingers lightly in his hair. He leaned in, lips brushing Hob’s ear as he spoke again, his low voice coupled with the words spoken making Hob’s spine vibrate. 

“My body is ravenous after the events of last night.”

“Christ, Dream–” Hob’s hips jerked forward of their own accord, viciously trying to hold himself back from crushing Dream against the counter and kissing him stupid. “You really do test my patience.”

Dream pulled back and smiled, sly, like a cat, before tilting his head and speaking again, tone light.

“I’m also quite sore.”

Something dark and possessive creeps up Hob’s spine at the words, spoken so casually with an air of pleasure. Because Hob knew Dream enjoyed it, liked the evidence of their love-making, being able to feel it the next day. He’d said so early on, when he was still Endless… that he would make it so Hob’s presence, his touch, would last, until Dream had Hob again. 

“I’ll go nice and slow then,” Hob murmured, sliding his hands around to Dream’s front and feeling that trail of hair below his belly button, following it up his sternum and combing his fingers through chest hair. 

Dream purred under the attention, lolling his head back and arching toward Hob’s touch.

“I’ll be so gentle…” Hob mouthed along Dream’s throat, peppering kisses along the line of his jaw– the stubble there scratching Hob’s chin and making him smirk, wondering when indeed Dream would allow the hair there to grow fully.

“I’ll open you up and take my time. I’ll be so careful…” Hob nipped Dream’s earlobe and felt the other man shudder, his very human heart thrumming under his skin. “You’ll be begging for it.”

That seemed to bring Dream back. Hob felt him swallow and chuckle lightly.

“Beg…” Dream said the word with a sour expression, getting his hands back on Hob’s chest and pushing gently, enough for Hob to lean back, but not enough to take his hands out from under Dream’s shirt. “You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me.”

Hob smiled so wide his teeth showed. He loved getting caught.

“You know, if you’re hungry–”

“Don’t say it–”

“-- I got something you could eat,” Hob finished anyway, laughing at the way Dream rolled his eyes, hard enough to take his head with it.

After a moment, Dream took Hob’s wrists and pulled his hands down, tangling their fingers together. 

“Will it pacify you for 10 minutes so I can resume breaking my fast?”

Hob hummed in mock consideration, biting down the all too satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Perhaps.”

“Ah…” Dream grinned, and there was a sharp edge to it.

“Perhaps then,” he continued, turning away from Hob and back to his mission that was cereal. “... you can wait.”

Hob lowered his head to the nape of Dream’s neck in defeat, laughing.

“Tease,” he said without venom, nuzzling his nose briefly in the smattering of wiry hairs there as well.

“You love it.”

Hob hummed, winding his arms around Dream’s waist and nudged his crotch comfortably into his ass, smirking in victory as Dream accepted it, pushing back to meet him.

Hob exhaled a content sigh into Dream’s hair, lazily rolling his hips while Dream fixed his breakfast, pouring cereal into the bowl and following it up with milk.

“I do.” Hob conceded, watching and waiting until Dream ate the last bite of cereal before grabbing his arm and pulling him back into bed.

[smoosey]

Unseasonable, for your prompts. <3

"It wasn't supposed to rain today," Obi-Wan comments, but in truth it's lovely, lovely, the midsummer rain light and cool and misty where they walk under the wide sweep of the stars, belly full, warm and tipsy and flushed and alive.

"We've had worse surprises," Cody says from beside him, and Obi-Wan laughs, because the Force is singing all around him, and Cody is beautiful in the rain, and there's something buoyant in his chest that makes him feel young again and quite in love with every star and raindrop, the wide galaxy and every soul that shines in the Light of the Force.

Cody's watching him laugh, eyes warm and dark, and then he's taking his hand, leading him into an alcove where Obi-Wan lets himself be sheltered by his heat. Obi-Wan raises his robe over them, and kisses him in a hallowed space, alone with Cody's smiling lips and reverent hands and his good, good heart.

(AKA: I saw this gif and lost by entire mind...)

[intheorangebedroom]

What kind of kinks do we think Frankie has? 🤔

Hey Nonnie! Again, I'm glad you asked!

But first thing first: 

🧡HAPPY ❤️‍🔥FRANKIE❤️‍🔥 FRIDAY🧡

@frannyzooey and I actually discuss this on a regular basis, and if you haven't yet, you should run over to her blog and read her entire Frankie masterlist (especially Taste, very relevant in this context). Because it’s all there, and it’s so much better than anything I could ever dream of achieving. 

This said, please do stay here a little longer 😬

Explicit thoughts below the cut 🔞

​I know it’s a general fandom consensus that Frankie is an avid and thorough pussy eater, and yes, I’m sure he is. But’s there is so much more to him.

Frankie’s a confident man. Quietly so, but definitely assertive. 

Discreet, calm, collected, he can be commanding, even threatening when he needs to. 

Possessive, but not jealous, he strives above all to protect, provide and care for you. Because this man loves you with everything he’s got, and because Frankie’s ultimate kink is… you. 

Anything and everything, from the fire in your eyes when you discuss something you’re passionate about, to the needy tuck of your body into his side when you get mean Sunday scaries. From the scent of your hair lingering on his pillow to the tangy taste of your skin at the end of the day. From your out-of-tune singing when a song you love comes up on the truck's radio, to the low thrumming and soft quiver of your pulse between his lips.

He loves you self-confident or vulnerable. He loves you standing tall or feeling small.

So I think what truly gets Frankie off, more than anything, is when his love has fostered enough sense of safety in you that you'll ask him for what it is that you truly want. Or better yet, when you take it from him. 

When you want it slow, silent and breathy, locked eyes and a press of your sweat-damp foreheads, calloused hands surprisingly soft in their span of your skin. 

When you want to be crushed underneath him and have him set the pace. 

When you need it rough, relentless, unforgiving. When you want him to curl his thick fingers around your nape and sink your mouth down on his hard length. When you want him to lick the makeup-stained tears off your cheekbone. When you need his grip on the swell of your ass to turn painful. When you want his teeth on your neck, his spit in your mouth, his come on your face.

When you ride his face without shame with a sharp tug of his hair until he bands his arms around your thighs hard enough to bruise. 

When you straddle him, your gorgeous tits bouncing in your frantic sway over him, for a while, at least, before he cups them to knead and pinch, when you writhe and whine because “it’s too much.” 

Just like Frankie knows his worth, he knows his size. And that too is a kink, it’s all about what it can do to you, for you.

He likes to thicken between your fingers, your eyes growing wide because you’re not sure, even after all this time, if you’ll be able to take it. 

Loves to rub his cock onto your stomach to show you just how deep he’s gonna reach. 

Loves to inch into you slowly and see sweat beading over your pinched brow with the effort, loves the sound of your tight cunt parting around him, he knows how it tastes too, eyes strained on your entrance catching along the girth of him, the music of your strained moans, loves to talk you through it, alright baby, come on now, you know you can take it.

When you’re burning with want and with need, when you’re pliant under his hands or rigid around his hips, chasing your release, sweat and slick and sticky, when you’re liquid inside, a rope pulled taut between your core and your heart that rips your inside out, when you’re blooming in shades of orange, when you plant your hands on his chest and demand "Make me come Francisco," that's his greatest kink.

[purrmoon]

Pregnancy headcanons for omegas w/o their baby daddy?

ooo!

so, generally the way i do aob, omegas don’t necessarily need their pup’s sire with them, but they DO need a trusted pack member. that pack member can be a sibling, friend, parent, or partner, just, someone they trust to take care of them / the pup.

just a clarification for how i’ve worded some of these xD

their anxiety is much higher, which leaves them jumpy and even paranoid. they’re much warier people touching them.

extremely defensive of their dens/nest.

also extremely picky about their dens/nests. they’ll make and remake their nest until it satisfies them—and sometimes it will only satisfy them for a short time before they start all over again.

hormones have their emotions running high, and without a partner to help soothe them/regulate them their mood swings can be pretty bad.

sleep in short fits, waking at the slightest change in sound.

the closer they get to birth, the less they tend to leave their homes / dens.

they eat more!! again, an increase in appetite is to be expected, but it increases just a little bit more for them.

lots of purring to self-soothe / soothe the pup.

the pup is a little extra restless, moving more and pushing at the ribs / stomach / bladder / etc.

i tried to keep most / all of these symptoms unpleasant but not totally debilitating; while i love leaning on the “needs pack” aspect of omegaverse, i didn’t want to make anything TOO life-threatening xD

if anyone wants to add anything please feel free <3

[stunie]

so i just started watching a sign of affection AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT HOW FURIN WILL CARE FOR THEIR HEARING IMPAIRED S/O (IF YOUR REQS IS OPEN)

HIHI OHHH MY GOD anon !! anon !! i love this. i’ve only watched a couple episodes so far but i feel the same way nshsh i just think that anime is sooo cute 😭😭 so many furin guys could fit in it !! shishitoren too.. no. actually. almost the entire cast tbh bahaha they’re all so sweet!! my reqs are closed (but also i feel like i’m not the right person to write for hearing impaired s/o > <)

MMMMMMM . if i ever did a series, it’d be inspired by a cute anime like that i think !! or a game. hehehheehh

[wannabepapa]

thinking about working in this little shop, maybe a bakery or small diner, where part of your contract to work there is to go through a full term magical pregnancy. but they aren't going paying you when you're outside of work, so for reasons to do with labor laws or whatever, your pregnancy gets paused. you only grow when you're clocked in for work, meaning that a full nine months of pregnancy takes over two years to complete even when you're working full time (and most of the employees are only part-time). imagine coming right up on the end of a pregnancy, maybe overdue, and ready to be done, and you get a few weeks off for the holidays. Last year maybe you were at the end of the second trimester, big but not massive. Just a little inconvenient. this year you have to get all the way to the New Year with this cumbersome belly, stretched and exhausted, just waiting to go back to work and throw that little apron on so you can be unburdened.

The bakery is definitely the strangest place I have ever worked for. The pay was fantastic—more than I could have ever imagined getting in my entire lifetime! Really, there shouldn't be a reason why I was overcompensated for such an easy job. That was until I had finished with my training and officially hired.

The owner was a wizard—very old, very powerful being—that had only one condition for me to even be considered as a worker. They had a fruitful side hustle as surrogacy business (the place was merely a façade to keep the magickal government off their tail) and in order to be brought into the fold you would need to fulfill pregnancy contracts for the customers. Not only had the background check been meticulous in its contents but my medical history had been gone over with a fine toothed comb. If I were honest hearing that I was still being considered with my medical problems it blew my mind. Raising that concern the owner explained magical remedies that would heal any ailments that would otherwise cause pregnancy complications, meaning I would be the perfect surrogate for the babies. I didn't hesitate a moment while white knuckling the pen to sign the dotted lines.

I should have read the fine print.

———

There clearly was nothing standard about this operation. To quell any magickal suspicions these pregnancies were enhanced in very special ways. The fetuses were perfectly healthy and safe, the pregnancies were as normal as possible given one big circumstance. The pregnancies were elongated and you only progressed while you were on the clock.

As terrible as it sounds to an outsiders prospective, this is easier to handle. With the slow growth I was able to go about life normally for much longer without worrying that my secret would be revealed. Though the nausea and overall discomfort were murderous in the beginning my first trimester took six and a half months—I barely looked any different! Every scan I had showed a perfectly healthy pregnancy which meant more money being added onto my already cushy check. It all felt like a fever dream.

As the weeks turned into months of growth I had begun to realize I was enjoying this. As much as I had felt anxiety over passing nine months I was able to get into the groove of this magickal pregnancy. It was easier with my coworkers in the same predicament in so many different stages for us to all bond together. Though taking the mandatory holidays for Thanksgiving and Christmas were difficult—there was no extra growing and it felt like my skin was burning with power that was ready to burst forward. Stepping back into the bakery I swore up and down that I grew about four inches around the middle from this surge of pregnancy magick.

Now that I'm nearing the end of this pregnancy a whole two years later, I am more than ready to pop. The babe is very happy in here having parties every day of the week and even midnight (let's be honest here it's more like three am) dance battles to show off their moves. As much as this little nugget has brought happiness, excitement, and joy into these long years carrying I clearly need a break. My skin is stretched tightly across my womb with no trace of skin unmarred by red stretchmarks. I'm not angry about it since most were there before I got pregnant. What I will miss is having someone this close to me when I needed them and experience the craziness of pregnancy over an extended period of time.

What I really truly hate is that I'm stuck at home now until the fifth of January. It wouldn't be terrible if I wasn't on the cusp of labor with false contractions for the last three weeks or the equivalent of a bowling ball sitting heavily on my pelvis. The baby shows no signs of being ready to leave their warm home but I'm very certain that there will be a visit to the birthing center in the coming days after I start work again. I don't think I'll be the only one either. My one coworker has twins and he is very ready for those buns to be delivered as soon as possible.

Even with this bump in the road I can see myself doing this all over again. Possibly requesting to go part time for that pregnancy—to really relish in my slow growth and see how different it feels