#man is but a fool
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
aeroblossom · 1 year ago
Text
my roman empire is archons and their child whom they 'failed'. characters with doomed, dark fates, seeming as if they'd never been looked upon by their god. the ones you read about and wonder why their archon did not protect them or pay attention. venti and rozalyne, ei and kabukimono - quite literally, rukkhadevta or nahida and zandik. arguably, egeria and focalors, considering focalors bore the brunt of egeria's sin.
327 notes · View notes
bees-pees · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“i can’t be around you always, i need time to myself to think” and “i think about you all the time” is certainly an interesting situation to be in
4K notes · View notes
flwrkid14 · 2 months ago
Text
Take My Heart, Take My Name
Listen. Danny is a menace with affectionate nicknames, and Tim is so weak for it.
It starts small, a casual “hey, babe” here, a “thanks, darling” there. Tim thinks he’s fine at first—sure, his heart skips a beat, and yeah, maybe he has to take a moment to compose himself, but he tells himself it’s no big deal.
Except then Danny takes it up a notch, like he’s testing Tim’s self-control.
Honey. Danny calls Tim honey one night and Tim seriously thinks it's game over. He's done for. Finished. Danny could ask him to jump into a Lazarus Pit, and Tim would already be in mid-air. “Hey, honey, can you grab my jacket?” Yes. Yes, he can. He can grab Danny’s jacket, his wallet, his hand in marriage—whatever Danny wants.
And just when Tim thinks he’s adjusted to that, Danny has to go and casually destroy him again.
“Morning, Polaris,” Danny says, voice soft and warm, and Tim nearly drops his coffee mug. Polaris. His chest tightens at the word, at the meaning behind it. The North Star—the one constant in the sky, the guide through uncertainty. That’s how Danny sees him? It’s almost too much. Tim has to physically turn around and pretend to check his phone, hiding the way his face burns and his throat tightens with something dangerously close to tears. Danny doesn’t just say it like it’s some throwaway nickname; he says it like it’s a promise, like he’s quietly reminding Tim just how much he means to him.
But the real killer? The absolute fatality? It’s when Tim overhears Danny talking about him to someone else.
“Oh yeah, Tim’s amazing,” Danny says, casually. “My man’s the smartest guy I know.”
My man.
Tim’s entire world stops. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until he exhales a few seconds later, completely dazed. My man. It’s not just that Danny’s saying it; it’s the way he says it. The pride in his voice, the casual possessiveness, the ease with which he claims Tim like that—like they’re already this unshakable thing. His. And Tim can’t believe it.
It doesn’t matter that they’ve been together for a while; hearing Danny claim him like that still makes him feel like he’s the luckiest person alive. Every time Danny says it, Tim can feel his heart racing, his head spinning.
And how could he not? He wants to give Danny everything. Every inch of himself, every breath, every dream, every fear. Tim wants to live his life wrapped in Danny’s laugh, stitched into the fabric of his love. If Danny wanted proof, Tim would carve his devotion into the stars themselves, would pluck out his own heart and place it in Danny’s hands as an offering. He’d give up anything, anyone, just to keep Danny smiling like that, to hear him say my man again.
Tim’s in a puddle, utterly lost in the warmth of it. His chest tightens, and he can’t stop the little smile that’s spreading across his face. My man. That’s his Danny. And God, if this is what it feels like to be loved by him, then Tim’s never going back.
And the thing is, Danny knows exactly what he’s doing. The way Tim lights up whenever he calls him something sweet? The soft little smile he tries to hide? Danny lives for it.
“Baby, are you okay?” Danny asks one day when Tim is just staring at him, dazed and lovestruck.
“Yeah,” Tim mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I just… like when you call me that.”
Danny grins, leaning closer. “What, baby?”
Tim nods, face bright red.
And from then on, it’s over. Tim is officially a nickname addict. Sweetheart, baby, honey, love—he eats it all up. It’s his lifeline. His kryptonite. And the best part? Danny never holds back.
2K notes · View notes
dawnarrii · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
I am just a fool to keep on chasing after nothing great You are just a fool to keep pretending that you're loving me
2K notes · View notes
elizakai · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
tumblr sexyman privledges
4K notes · View notes
scurvyboy · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
miscellaneous fiddlestans because i got many requests to draw them and also they are my favorite
2K notes · View notes
aiai-cafe · 8 months ago
Text
the thing about kabru is that he thinks he's some kind of cold, calculating, manipulative mastermind who will do anything, kill and seduce and lie, to achieve his own personal goals. but actually at his core he is an incredibly kind and selfless person with a really big heart and high morals and altruistic outlook who just wants to save everyone even if it costs him his own life and happiness. like @ kabru you're the nicest mf here. chill
2K notes · View notes
chronovus · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
SUBLIME
2K notes · View notes
ghostatservice · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
The fool - Reversed Keywords
"Reckless, careless, distracted, naive, foolish, gullible, stale, dull"
(non Reversed version 🔽)
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
xayspancakeee · 6 months ago
Text
mhmm, a real danger to society.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(≖_≖ ) if dangerous, why so soft?
3K notes · View notes
wobubling · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
fitzloved !!
1K notes · View notes
hannahelatham · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Blue Morning (commission for my lovely patron bimblyedits!)
1K notes · View notes
sunsburns · 29 days ago
Text
clark kent, who just loves to stare at you (18+)
he just thinks you’re so pretty. a view worth risking everything for.
and you think he’s pretty too—especially like this. his lashes flutter, eyes lidded but never closing, even as they well up, clouded with heat and desperation. his brows knit together, a deep crease forming between them, like he’s struggling to make sense of the pleasure, to keep himself tethered when all he really wants is to fall apart for you. his lips part on soft, shuddering moans, the kind he doesn’t bother holding back, doesn’t want to—he wants you to hear him, to know exactly what you’re doing to him.
his fingers thread into your hair, holding you there, tugging just a little whenever you take him deeper. you can feel the tension in his grip, the barely-there restraint as he fights the urge to pull you down, to chase the wet heat of your mouth. and then—
he whimpers.
a grown man, six-foot-whatever, broad and powerful in every sense of the word, whimpers at the sight of you gagging around his cock. and fuck, it makes something in you tighten, makes heat pool low in your stomach. you let him slip from your mouth, just enough to catch your breath, and watch how his eyes go wide, unfocused, his chest rising and falling like he’s forgetting how to breathe. you press a kiss to the flushed, sensitive tip, slow and deliberate, and he shudders—actually shudders—his grip tightening in your hair.
your lips trail down, tracing every thick vein along his length, your tongue flicking out to taste him before you work your way back up. never breaking eye contact. never letting him look away.
shit, you’re so pretty like this. he doesn’t want to look away.
and you don’t want him to, either. but you do love those fleeting moments when the pleasure overtakes him—when his head tips back suddenly, baring the length of his neck and throat, every muscle tensing under his flushed skin. you see the mess of bruises you’d left there, dark and blooming against his fair complexion. his jaw clenches, stomach going tight as his hips jerk forward, uncontrolled, needy.
yeah, you love to see him like that. that split-second loss of control before he drags his head back down again, like he physically can’t stand not looking at you.
there’s a tear slipping down his cheek now, his glasses fogged and slipping down his nose. his bottom lip trembles, wet and kiss-swollen, and then he’s muttering your name, voice thick with devotion and wrecked with pleasure. soft, sweet nothings spill from his mouth, each one punctuated by a moan, a whimper, a stuttered plea—
and then, breathless, ruined, he warns you he’s close.
955 notes · View notes
bibbysstuff · 18 days ago
Text
🐇
Tumblr media Tumblr media
508 notes · View notes
chialattea · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Oh so YOU GUYS can monologue for hours but my man yorick tries to have a nice conversation after regaining his ability to speak AND YOU GANG UP ON HIM???? I see how it is!!! The double standards are crazy!!!
659 notes · View notes
outislovescomics · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
oh ,,,,
952 notes · View notes