#i like established relationships

[000bun]

[heynhay]

playing dirty

[goldsnek]

Sins meetings are tiring!

[sincerelybubbles]

"spence?"

"hm?"

"when did you get home?"

a more awake you would be squealing, thoroughly excited he came home early from his trip, but the early hours have hardly begun to bring light and you're struggling to even open your eyes to look at him. your cheeks still widen into a pleased smile though, turning into his warmth and humming, confused, when your hands find the rough fabric of his coat.

"a few hours ago," he says, voice rough, eyes still shut. one arm across his eyes, blocking the minuscule light, the other a vice around your waist. his voice is slow, deep in his chest, caught on the sleep he obviously wishes to keep. but he still turns his face toward the sound of your voice, smile creeping up at the corners of his lips, willing to entertain you despite his fatigue.

"are you still wearing your shoes?" you ask, voice teasing, scooting up in his arm to nudge your nose against the curve of his jaw. you press a kiss there, the point where his bone hits a right angle, lips tingling from the stubble you find.

"no," he says, voice honest, "i know better than that."

"no shoes, but your belt is still on?" you tease, fingers dragging across the leather. you don't care, not beyond a genuine concern for his comfort, but you enjoy teasing him in this way, skimming your lips across the rough skin of his chin in not-quite kisses.

"i took my gun off," he complains in a half-hearted groan, lifting his arm to peek at you out of the corner of one eye. "hi," he says, voice still soft, somehow deeper with affection, dimples the star of the show on his cheeks.

"hi," you say, tilting your head back and lifting your arm to cart your fingers through his mess of hair. "welcome home."

he smiles, reaching around with his other arm to gather you up and drag you across his chest in a bear hug, chuckling at the squeal you let out, sighing against your hair. he presses a firm kiss there, right above your ear.

"we will have to wash the sheets, though. it was really gross for me to not change, i was just exhausted, sorry."

[hurlingdown]

“baby,” zoro manages, and when it doesn’t work, he gently tugs on your hair. 

you look up through your lashes, without unlatching, and nearly forget how to breathe. it’s jarring, almost, the warmth that pours into you at the quiet vulnerability in his gaze, tender and wanting and yours. 

you give his swollen nipple one more wet kiss, before raising your head to meet him with a small, coy smile. teasing, the way that makes your lover glow. “too much?” 

he’s too busy blushing to respond right away. you bring his hand down to your cheek, pressing the burn of his sweaty palm against your face. it makes you want to close your eyes, and you give in to the comfort with a faint sigh. 

zoro lets out a small grunt, turning his head to the side. it’s nothing new, your affection for him, but sometimes, you’re a little too good at making him feel embarrassed. what stays on you, though, is his good eye, molten silver and warm sea bleeding into you. 

he pretends to think about your question, for a bit. like the answer isn’t written all over his face. 

“no,” he denies, quietly. 

“... you’re tired, then.” 

“no.” 

“bored?” 

“never.” 

you blink your eyes open, and zoro’s frowning. it’s not that you don’t get him, he knows this. you just don’t want to act. 

“tell me,” you begin, “tell me what you want.” 

he swallows slowly, throat bobbing. he knows this game you’re playing, has played it before, countless times. but zoro doesn’t want to play. he wants you pinning him down by the neck and taking him apart, wants to sob and keen and thrash under your mercy, crying as you spill inside him again and again and again. 

“baby,” you murmur, your cheek smushed against his chest, and as tender as the word is, it’s a soft-spoken warning. zoro doesn’t think he can handle it if you go back to sucking his nipples. they’re soft and swelling, peppered with red and purple. too sensitive for his liking. “tell me where you want me.” 

this, he can do. 

he’s not the best at directions, zoro supposes. not that good with… locations, in general. his instincts take him where they want to go, and he follows blindly. some of the best decisions he’s made, some of the worst. 

but when he takes your hand, intertwining it with his, it’s steady and warm and full, and he’s never been more sure that this is the right thing. 

he places it on his stomach. “here,” he breathes. “i want you here.” 

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shoto’s been staring at you for a good 5 minutes now.

you’d figured he was zoning out about three minutes in but then you looked up from your homework at him and he smiled at you, that cute little loverboy smile he does that have your legs feeling like jelly and has your heart push against your chest like it wants to escape.

okay so he wasn’t zoning out. then what is it ? did you have something on your face ? was he waiting for you to say something ?

"is there something on my face ?" you blurt out, already wiping at your chin and around your mouth

he blinks, registering your question and his eyebrows furrow lightly “no, there isn’t.” he answers curtly. reaching his colder hand up to pull your hand away from your face. you’re so much more confused now that you fail to realize he held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary.

“so then why are you staring at me ?”

he lightly tilts his head to side at that, looking at you questioningly “ why should i not be looking at you ? does it bother you ?”

“wh—no no !” you sputter, he’s flipped the tables on you now “ i was just wondering what was up because you’ve been staring for..a while now” you trail off, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. his eyes widen just a fraction and you think maybe you got it all wrong somehow and he was zoning out, but then he’s lowering his head in shame “i’m sorry, yn. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my staring..” he apologizes.

you’re frantic, shaking your head so hard you fear you’ll twist your neck and waving your hands hurriedly “ no, no, no ! it’s okay, sho ! you didn’t make me uncomfortable or anything !” you feel relieved when the tension on his face dissolves the slightest bit “ i was just curious, that’s all” you sigh, your arms fly back next to you because you feel like your sweating buckets and you really don’t want him seeing pit stains.

he hums like he’s thinking about something then suddenly a small smile breaks onto his face and you feel like you’ve been hit dead on by a semi truck. shoto todoroki’s ability to be so effortlessly pretty is and will forever be an enigma to you. “ i like looking at you” he starts “ whenever you do mundane things like studying, you always have this look on your face. i like it, i think it’s cute.”

okay, so turns he was out to kill you.

“ i-i do ?” he responds with a simple “mhm”. you feel like you’re sweating a lot more.

“oh.” is all you say. it’s all you can say because what the hell were you supposed to say ?!

shoto doesn’t look all that bothered by it, cool as usual, simply opting to keep staring at you. you fiddle with your fingers for a bit before you lift your head up to meet his unwavering stare “ i—uhm—thank you.” you whisper. he shakes his head “don’t thank me, you don’t have to. if you want me to stop, i can try to.”

he can try to. you feel like you’re losing your mind.

you’re way beyond flustered now. todoroki’s not a man of many words but when he does use them it throws you for a complete loop, you feel like you’re on a rollercoaster. “no that’s fine.” you answer meekly.

“you’re sure ?” you nod and he hums. “okay then, if you don’t mind.”

“it’s fine” you confirm, feeling your face heat up. “i like looking at you, too.”

you definitely like looking at the handsome smile that forms on his face from your words.

[samijen]

they're just both mentally unwell lmaooo

this is PURELY SELF INDULGENT and has NO POINT WHATSOEVER

AVERT YOUR EYES AAAA

[coldflasher]

okay but re. that post about elseworlds!barry realizing that oliver woke up in bed with iris... if we coldflashed this, i feel that crossover event would have gone VERY differently because you're not telling me that leonard snart wouldn't have realized there was something wrong the second he woke up in bed with oliver queen

like picture this: you're leonard snart. you have years of trauma, hypervigilance, and experience surviving dangerous men (and, ultimately, being one). and you fall asleep next to barry, the man you love---who, don't get me wrong, IS dangerous, but is in most situations seemingly unaware of it; who appears nonthreatening and harmless unless riled, who, most of the time, just seems like a sweet and normal guy---and you wake up next to... something else. something that looks like barry, and sounds like barry... if you aren't paying attention.

this is a thing that walks without making a sound, like it has years of experience sneaking around and moves that way by default (like len does); it turns into a statue at the slightest sound and doesn't even seem to breathe. barry is always crackling with frenetic, fidgety energy, even when he sleeps; he has nightmares and thrashes until the covers are bunched up around him, but this thing slept stiff as a board, flat on its back without moving a muscle and barely wrinkled the sheets. this thing is wary, and quiet, and it moves like a killer, with a killer's instincts. and it's looking around their bedroom like it's never seen this room in its life

and len would KNOW.

[mermaids-ate-my-dinner]

Hot Take

Heros of Olympus would be so much better if everybody was single.

[bellamysgriffin]

ULTIMATE SHIPS CHALLENGE - Funny Scenes [2/5]

[heynhay]

woe! klance be upon ye

[kentocalls]

laios touden | seven modern!au, established relationship. swf. you're doing your nails and laios is being laios. please get this man out of my head. (pet name : baby)

he stops in his footsteps as he realizes he's been incessantly speaking on the topic of why a highspeed rail would enable real solutions to transit problems without your usual hum or uh huh. you are the most patient listener and he feels tremendously alone in the hallway.

where have you drifted off to?

laios finds himself poking his head through every available doorway. kitchen? spotless, he gets lost in reimagined the meal held hours prior before being reminded, once again, he isn't close to you.

the bathroom is empty, smells vaguely of a grape handwash (purple you claim) he's come to associate with you.

he pads, room to room, so laser focused on finding your bright beaming smile he almost crashes into you, sitting on the ground, concentrating.

nail clippings lay a napkin, he's careful not to accidentally kick it as he ensnares you in a hug. legs caging your form as he stuffs his nose into your collarbone. "careful" you huff, nail paint bottle and brush barely escaping your skin. "baby, ten minutes please."

he groans, squeezes you tighter. mumbling nothings into your neck, his nose tickling, a giggle escapes. "not a baby."

"ooh, okay, my big strong baby." he pulls back to quip about nicknames and what how would you feel about being called his baby. his. baby. he catches himself blushing. oh, he gets it now.

you turn back to your task at hand. painting the delicate color on your finger tips slowly. going slowly means you'll stay inside your nail lines and won't need to shower to wash off the excess nail paint. laios, precious thing, continues to make himself known. "whatcha doing?"

"being fancy." a smile on your lips, laios tries to hold the nail paint bottle for you, ever so ready to help. "nu uh, i still need this." he pouts, arms encasing your waist, making your task infinitely harder.

he watches the gentle strokes of the brush as it lays a pretty color on your nails. admittingly, he hasn't considered the effort it takes, how delicately your hands move. laios wonders if you'd let him paint one, he thinks he would do a good job. but you're too efficient and quick. poking at his hand to hand him the bottle, "can you put this back in the rack please?"

you have a small collection of nail paints, all organized in a neat tray. laios eyes the open spot for the bottle before asking, "can you paint mine too?"

the palm of your hand feels cold as you attempt a comforting gesture, turning as much as you can, fingers still wide, trying to keep them protected from accidental touch. "of course, i just need to dry these a bit more." your lips form an o and you blow so gently, hand moving in opposite direction of your lips and laios feels hot all over.

you're murmuring about this being the time you won't bite your nails. the color is pretty, isn't it? you'll be good and not get nervous and chew on it. but laios is is still looping how close you are, how tenderly you're treating your hands, his hands. how careful your body is draped over him.

you're pouting as you examine his hands. he's not careful, you've known this, but his hands are pretty. strong, calloused in odd places. your touch is so tender, laios feels his ears burn at the close examination. your thumb runs over each of his nails, feeling for a jagged edge, filer ready in your other hand.

he watches your face with a soft smile, you're being so attentive. he twitches not expecting the coolness of the nail pain, you coo at him, aslk "too cold, baby?" in a manner too sweet, trails after the hand that was on his cheek. and you're back to finish his other fingers.

explaining he has to sit still for ten minutes. he only chuckles in response, he can sit like, with you so close, forever. you undermine how content he feels right now. you bring a hand up to inspect the color, blowing lightly at the wet color.

"you have such nice nail beds." you sigh, voice soft and dreamy. laios is wants to kiss you so badly, you wouldn't be upset right? he doesn't need his hands to kiss you. he shuffles closer but a hand to his chest stops him. "be good for me, sit still."

he's frowning. what's a kiss? but you lean in close, so close and all do that voice he's so weak to, honey laced and serious "laios? be good yeah? sit still."

right right right, he can be good. he can be absolutely good. the best. the bestest damn good ever! sits up straighter, determined, you giggle and shuffle out of the cocoon of his body. surprised how easily he gave in.

his eyes rake over you. he's going to kiss you so hard after these ten minutes. he waves his hands in the hair, blows on them to dry faster. gosh! he feels so helpless as he sits on the ground, hands up as if he's done something wrong, robbed a bank or pushed a child but when he's the victim here! how dare you leave without kissing him, steal all the warmth!

he tries to count the seconds in his head, converts them to minutes and is all but near five hundred and fifty five seconds before he hears a clash from the kitchen. oh no, oh no did he leave the jam jar on the top shelf again? you know better than to tip-toe to grab at it. he's on his feet and moving, breath held tight when he's greeted with a "laios touden!"

he forgets how to speak, you look so pretty. standing in the green kitchen, wooden spatula in one hand, the other on your hip, brows furrowed at the tall man. oh, you're mad-mad at him, and it's probably his fault he's sure, but all of your attention is on him, finally.

greedily he gets closer, stupidly he reaches out as you swat a hand away. the spatula points to the right, perfectly timed meow and your fingers look so pretty gripping that spatula. laios will kiss each one happily--

"we aren't allowed to take another one in." the black cat now brushes against laios leg, supporting the blond as he pulls you close to him. your resolve to stay mad faltering. "my baby," he emphasis, lips getting pouty "winter was waiting for me on a train boxset. it was a sign from the universe, i couldn't say no."

but you can, after you escape the warmth of his hold, why is he so tall and strong. his hold is firm and resolute, "no, no, no i'm not listening this time. we already have three, laios!"

"you know how i feel about odd numbers." you do, of course you do.

"and you prefer prime numbers, three is good laios. including us that's five inhabitants, another perfect prime number. winter would make six. it's an even number but not a prime number. we already have the per- " the black cat brushes against you, you look down at the beautiful abyss of darkness "no."

you jump at another clash, laios' arms instantly tighten around you but he doesn't seem perplexed. he's trying to distract you with kisses and warm touches. that noise? that came from the bathroom this time didn't it?

your eyes scan the room, melon, cantaloupe and honey look back at you with lazy ease. only winter seems adamant about staying near you and invading your space, meowing, begging for pets and kisses.

if that accounts for all the cats you can see…laios starts to pepper you with kisses. "baby, my baby, listen, you know what my favorite number is? and what's also prime? seven is--" a tortoise cat zips into the kitchen and immediacy back out to the bathroom.

is it bad he finds the way you yell his full name kinda hot?

[waldau-archived]

Hi waldu!! It’s minnieminshi!! I saw that your drabble requests are open and I was wondering if I could request number 11 from the prompt list with Wonwoo?

I know his blind ass without his glasses would be so cute lol

“Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.” + wonwoo

mimi thank you for requesting!!! i wanted to write a honeymoon scene for any one of the members and wonwoo seemed the most perfect one for it.

you don’t know if it’s the magic of the cool italian breeze wafting in through the window that’s slightly ajar, the warm covers that feel a bit too warm right now, or the fact that you’re aware you’re sleeping next to your favourite person in the world, that's keeping you from going back to sleep.

scratch that. you know exactly what’s keeping you up.

you pretend to be asleep, and wonwoo continues his ministrations on your skin. you feel him press a kiss to your forehead, his most favourite place to kiss you. as much as he teases you for being shorter than him, there’s nothing he loves more than having you just in reach so he can kiss you, as a way to greet you when he sees you, or as a way of telling you he’s proud of you, or as a way of telling you he’s there for you when you’re down and that you should know it.

you want to wake up and return the favour, kiss his face silly and relish the fact that he won’t ever tell you to stop even if you go a bit overboard, because he trusts you to know his limits. the thought of it makes your heart clench.

he’s no longer your fiancé. he’s jeon wonwoo, your husband, the man you married two days ago before he whisked you off on a surprise honeymoon to italy to spend a week with you. no friends or family or obligations or commitments. just the two of you, happy, in love, together.

so you keep your eyes shut and just feel as wonwoo moves down to your temple, letting his lips linger there. “i love you,” he whispers, and then he moves to your cheek. “i still can’t believe this is real.”

you can’t hold back any more at that. you turn around with your eyes shut and lean up in the direction of his warmth, willing to kiss whatever part of him you reach first.

he chuckles, his voice deep from not being used this early in the morning, and you realize you’ve hit his chin. you try again, and this time it’s the corner of his mouth.

“not ready to wake up yet?” he asks, hand gently combing through the tangled mess of your hair. you shake your head. the covers rustle under his movement, and you feel a gentle kiss on your lips. you blink your eyes open to see wonwoo looking at you with nothing but love, his eyes looking slightly unfocused without his glasses.

you get to wake up to this for the rest of your life. seems like a pretty good deal. the best, even.

[sandeewithtwoe]

Hello!!! From what I see requests are open and I also saw something you drew with a ship so I was wondering if you would draw Killer/Cross or Killer/Ink?

They are my favorite ships :D Have a nice day!!!

They would look at eachother and ask “this is how love works, right?”

Have a nice day too!!

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Ink belongs to comyet/myebi

[th-th-th-thats-all-folks]

Au where Zoro and Nami like to break up straight couples and sleep with each side; sometimes for fun, sometimes as grifts.

Enter arranged marriage Sanji and Vivi.

[tomurakii]

I like bloodweave. Okay. But I DON'T like the version of them in fanfic where Astarion is a dick and Gale is like. Whining and pleading for him to be emotionally vulnerable (or just. Nice to him) prior to the relationship being established. Because that is just not accurate. Gale needs the player to express interest in him during his weave-teaching scene before he even considers hitting on them properly. Gale is entirely resigned to his fate and needs someone else to pull him away from it. Gale only starts being sweet and romantic and devoted after you accept his love confession and give him hope for the future. Gale says fuck all and then slinks away to cry privately if you break up with him.

Like he isn't chasing after people lmao. He isn't dropping to his knees and crying about anything much less this dickhead he met a week ago. He is overwhelmingly passive about literally everything personal to him up to and including his own death (provided there are no casualties/there is a good reason) until after the player expresses that they care about him. Astarion is not doing that in any of these fics.

Like Gale is friendly and a dork and doesn't wanna get murdered but he fully has a suicide plan. He thought the artefacts would help him survive but he didn't believe he'd ever truly live again. If Gale confessed and Astarion said/did like one (1) mean thing afterward Gale's romance is closed off forever. He's wandering into the forest to cry. He's killing himself immediately. His fragile ego and self worth can't take it. You have to understand that when we joke about him being pathetic it's not bc he's like. Sopping wet and chasing people down and begging for a scrap of attention. It's because he craves affection but would literally rather die than ask or even hope for it until someone else forces that hope back into his serotonin-deficient tadpole brain.