#sugar baby Obi wan

[padawansuggest]

Jaro: *walking through the temple with a sleepy Cal on his left arm, hoping they make it to their quarters before Cal wakes up enough for chaos again*

Cal: *wakes up enough for more chaos*

Jaro: Lovely.

Cal: *starts patting Jaro’s arm and pointing off at the next hallway excitedly* There, there!

Jaro: *is a master of a small one, which means he’s weak to that excitement, follows the finger to their next placement*

Obi-Wan: *waiting expectantly for Jaro and Cal with a cheeky grin* Hello there, first baby of mine.

Cal: *is gently set on the floor, only to come flailing into Obi-Wan’s arms* Daddy! Hi Daddy!

Obi-Wan: Oh, my sweet boy. I was hoping to see you today, I got you a present.

Cal: *gremlin mode activated, starts rummaging through his pockets while Jaro pretends he isn’t obsessed with how cute that is*

Jaro: Manners, little one.

Cal: He likes it!

Jaro: That is because your father is a gremlin and a scoundrel himself. For shame.

Obi-Wan: Ahh, you found it!

Cal: *pulls back with a brand new music player in his hands, one of the bulky ones that lasts forever and holds more than you’ll ever need it for* Oh, wow!

Jaro: And what do we say to a nice present, Padawan mine?

Cal: *chirpy chirps that Obi and Jaro both understand as love noises* Thank you, Daddy! *sits down then and there to open it up, leaving the adults to talk over him*

Jaro: Quite an expensive piece of tech, that your first Padawan could probably have made.

Obi-Wan: Heh, yeah, but I was at lunch with his wife and Senator Organa, mentioned I thought Cal could use a more sturdy music player before he starts going on missions, I actually had to talk them down from getting him multiple to see what he likes best. If it works out good, Anakin will no doubt become offended and make him one better. I just wanted something sturdy before he runs off to face the pirates and slavers of the galaxy.

Jaro: Bad luck to assume he’ll end up facing the same things you did as a young one.

Obi-Wan: If he doesn’t have my luck if constantly getting captured by them, he’ll have Quin’s luck of needing to put them in the ground.

Cal: *chirping in question at them both* Reva comes to see me before we leave?

Jaro: *snorts* We don’t even have a mission at time, little one. Your sister can come for a playdate tomorrow.

Cal: Thank you!

[hannibalzero]

thoughts on sugar baby obi-wan ?

Freaking cute.

But I like the set up where Obi-Wan is 32 year old classical musician. He plays harp. He’s been interviewed by an orchestra but it’s a long process. Sometimes he gets weddings but as of late, money wise is getting tight.

At the grocery store, Obi-Wan is counting change at the counter to pay for his ramen noodles. Only for someone to place two large stakes on the belt and lightly nudge Obi-wan away.

“Excuse me-“ Obi-Wan starts.

“Hungry?” Anakin smirks at Obi-Wan paying for the stakes and noddles.

“Errrr yes?”

“I’m making dinner, eat with me?”

Laughs “you don’t know me.”

“Does it matter? Maybe a drink too?”

“….sure why not.”

[tideswept]

i may be cheating going for a second word in the wip game! i may be a roguish internet maverick. choose whichever prompt you will, but my second request is "scream"

! darn. The only scream I have in the WIP mines is one I already posted. :( (and of course it was Obi-Wan screaming in agony, of course.)

but as you've been a very brave maverick, I will choose a new word for you. And that word is--(multiple sources whisper urgently in my ear) bath, because I know you got it, and let's--

Oh. Oh.

From the camboy Obikin AU! (aka, 20 year old Anakin tries to do Only Fans)

---

It was getting late. Do-or-die time.

Anakin twisted the doorknob, making sure it was locked, and tucked a towel around the door gap to muffle as much noise as possible. Ahsoka walking to her room didn't need to hear what he was up to.

The warm glow of a bedside lamp cast hazy shadows on the walls, illuminating but not revealing everything. He thought it made his skin glow, showing off all the sunbathing he’d done over the summer while working outside.

He tugged his shirt off, throwing it to the side. He lifted the laptop from the desk, bringing it over to the bed.

For a moment, he considered the sheets, then tugged them off, letting them flutter to the floor. They were Egyptian cotton, so pricey that he’d protested to Obi-Wan that they’d get ruined just from the piss-poor quality of the water at school, but Obi-Wan had merely promised to buy another set if that happened.

This was the problem with rich people, Anakin groused. They couldn't appreciate things the way someone growing up with nothing but the clothes on his back did. He was not about to ruin his costly sheets by getting them soaked in lube. And other liquids.

But primarily lube.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC

Living Slow by kathkin

“Was that like. For real your mom?”

“Yes, Billy,” said Superman, with unwavering patience. “That was my mom.”

Billy looked at him for a long moment. He said, “Why?”

“Why?” Superman echoed. “What – what do you mean, why?”

Billy shrugged. “It’s a pretty simple question.”

“Well,” said Superman. “Be that as it may, I got no idea how to answer it.”

In the face of an extraterrestrial threat they don't fully understand, with all their usual hide-outs compromised, the Justice League are forced to go to ground. Fortunately Superman has a remote location where they can regroup. Less fortunately, it comes with some baggage.

Genome by JpegDotJpeg

Being Tim Drake-Wayne’s trophy husband and full-time sugar baby was hard work, but not without its benefits. Kon had gotten very used to getting whatever he wanted with Tim around. Clothes, tuition money.

Babies.

BNHA

someone blessed by blueseam

“Would you like to make a bet?”

It’s delivered in the same polite, measured tone Todoroki uses for almost everything, which only makes the offer more unsettling.

“Uh.”

If it will make him go away, Hitoshi might consider it.

__

Todoroki bets Shinsou that he won’t last a week in Class 2A without making at least one friend. He’s pretty confident he’ll get the money.

Too bad Midoriya only knows how to make friends by hurting himself.

ATLA

the dry grass catches fire by Anonymous

"Shoichi," Zuko says quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady. "What happened to Izumi?"

Shoichi is milk-pale. He shuffles on the spot, then opens his mouth. Zuko watches his lips move, hears the sound of his voice, and somehow does not fall apart.

"She was taken, my Lord," Shoichi says, and—

Every torch in the palace goes out.

-

A failed assassination attempt on Zuko results in his daughter being kidnapped instead. Zuko will stop at nothing to get her back.

i'll come crashing by ohmygodwhy

Li's scar is suddenly all Jet can think about. The scar, the scar, the old man’s hot hands warming his tea like he thought he could get away with firebending in the middle of a crowd.

or: After getting to know Li on the ferry, Jet sees Mushi heat his tea. Instead of assuming Li is also a firebender, Jet assess the situation and comes to a rather different conclusion.

House MD

Intensive Care by LadyEliza

Chase is sick. House won't leave him alone. The diagnostics team at PPTH has two cases to solve…

Clone Wars

a river runs through it by vizslasaber

There is a kind of fear that is unique to a Jedi.

(Cody and Obi-Wan. A lesson in attachment.)

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-three of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

So alright, Tim may have made some miscalculations here. Or at least one very serious miscalculation, anyway. Kon is a hopeless flirt who always wants attention and to be the most interesting person in the room, and so perhaps inserting Tim Drake into his life as a person determined to give him attention and treat him like the most interesting person in the room while also flirting back was not, in fact, the best plan.

Or, more succinctly: Tim is a fucking idiot. 

After the mall, where Tim nearly fell off that bench twice more and Kon showed him everything he’d picked out to try on and Tim bought him literally every single piece of it that fit, some of it in multiple colors, and Kon, the bastard, then decided to wear the strap-covered leather pants and S-shield crop top out into actual public for the rest of their not-date, because he is, again, a bastard who Tim had to eat lunch with in the food court while he was smugly preening and peacocking in his stupid leather pants and crop top–after the mall, Tim realized he had a problem, and that problem was a) everything about Superman and Cadmus but especially actually-claimed-to-be-a-decent-person Superman and also b) Kon might actually like him as a person. Like. Genuinely and actually like him. 

That is definitely not something Tim planned for. Not in one single solitary contingency plan did he ever even consider “Kon actually liking Tim Drake as a person” as being a potential issue. Kon should have better taste than that, for one thing. Tim Drake is a photography nerd and a nerd-nerd and he's not all that interesting or attractive. He has weird taste in video games and only likes the role-playing games that literally nobody actually plays. And he isn't even that good at skateboarding! 

It has occurred to Tim, perhaps, that while Kon definitely is and always has been a flirt, he may have been basing his previous personal assumptions about how "serious" any more focused forms of flirting have been less on Kon himself and more on other people's reactions to said flirting. That it might not be Kon who's getting bored and moving on at the drop of a hat. 

Meaning, for all he knows Kon only really hits on people he's actually interested in and is simultaneously absolutely attention-starved enough to devote himself to anyone who so much as implies any kind of reciprocal interest. 

So that's . . . something to take under consideration, possibly. And be wary of, possibly. 

Except . . . 

It's kind of bad that Tim wants to just lean into it, isn't it. That he wants to–wants to encourage it. 

That he wants to devote himself back to that devotion in turn and see just how far it goes. 

Yeah, that cannot be a healthy thought process to be having, under the circumstances. 

But Tim's having it, all the same. And it wouldn't be that bad, would it? He actually does like Kon, for starters. He's not trying to use him or take advantage of him. Manipulate him a little, yeah, obviously, but Tim is pretty sure he's literally incapable of not manipulating the people he cares about at this point in his life, so . . . 

Possibly he should work on that? Like, come to think. 

But that's a later-problem. Somewhere between now and supervillainy. 

Anyway, Superman decided it was perfectly fucking fine to leave Kon in a literal fucking lab that wasn't even paying or educating him or anything, so Tim feels pretty secure in his current moral high ground. He is the Obi-Wan Kenobi of this situation and he has absolutely no reservations about that fact. 

At least as long as Kon's happy, anyway. 

Tim could maybe make him happy, he's realizing. Like . . . if Kon really does like him like that, he means. He could get him a homey little place in Gotham, like a studio downtown or maybe a small estate in Bristol, and he could take him on dates to actually nice places, and he could hang out with him on the weekends and play whatever video games he's into. They could actually spend time together where Kon doesn't think he has to be either “cool” or just like Superman, and where Tim doesn't have to be professional and emotionally distant. Time where Kon could be a normal guy and Tim wouldn't have to wear a mask. 

It's . . . tempting. 

Really, really tempting. 

Anyway, that's why Tim is currently planning the nicest and least-ethical date of his life while on patrol with Nightwing. Japanese food is still probably his best bet, since neither Gotham nor Metropolis is exactly spoiled for Hawaiian food and actually flying Kon all the way to Hawaii might be coming on a little bit too strong for a first date, and obviously he's not going to make Kon fly him there. He's the one planning this date, and he will not be cheating said planning or skimping on the budget by taking advantage of anyone's superpowers. 

Besides, Kon still doesn't actually have superspeed so it'd probably take like eight hours to get there. At least six, depending on the weather and the headwind. And it wouldn't exactly make for prime small-talk time, either. 

So yeah, Japanese food is sounding better and better. The only Hawaiian food Tim's actually tracked down around here with decent reviews is a food truck, and that's just not “nice first date” vibes. He promised Kon someplace nice for their actual official first date, and he is gonna deliver on said “nice” or die trying. 

Possibly literally, considering. 

“You seem a little distracted, baby bird,” Dick says as he pulls him up out of the filthy waters of the Gotham River. Tim considers explaining Kon's thighs to him, then resolves to never, ever explain Kon's thighs to him. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I have a YJ-related op to plan and I'm having trouble keeping my mind off it.” 

“Understandable,” Dick says, then yanks them both behind a dumpster as Two-Face's latest crop of dichotomous thugs catch up again and bullets start flying. “Maybe right now is not the ideal time for that, though?” 

Tim wonders if Bludhaven has decent Hawaiian food. 

“Valid,” he says. “Hey, do you think a planetarium is a stupid date idea?” 

“That depends entirely on who the date is with,” Dick says, pulling out his escrima sticks. Tim takes the cue to grab and extend his bo. “Nothing’s stupid if it'd make the person you're taking happy. Four o'clock.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says as he whips a birdarang into the gun hand of the guy running up behind them. Dick has a point, really, but unfortunately not a point that is helpful when planning a date with a teammate Tim actually still doesn’t know all that much about the interests and hobbies of. He knows Kon is interested in Krypton, but that doesn’t mean he’s interested in astronomy or space in general. It’s likelier he only cares about Krypton because of Superman, and maybe his own DNA. 

Tim remembers Kon saying he’d never seen anything from Krypton but kryptonite before, which means he is in fact the person who introduced Kon to the first piece of Krypton he ever saw and he did it in an attempt to take him out while Kon was under Poison Ivy’s influence, which is frankly terrible but not as terrible as the fact Superman only just introduced him to anything else about Krypton. 

On that note, Tim needs to work on those plans for weaponized red sunlight this weekend. Maybe after he gets Japanese food with Kon and embarrasses himself by taking him to the planetarium. 

Would he like the aquarium, maybe? It might remind him of Hawaii, and Hawaii probably still feels more like home to him than anywhere else does, so it’s at least a valid hypothesis. Then again, he probably preferred the beach and sky to the marine life. Admittedly, Tim doesn’t actually know that, so it’s still a possibility. 

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Dick says. 

“I’m not,” Tim only technically lies, whipping another series of birdarangs around the corner of the dumpster, along with a few smoke pellets. They take the cover and run for better positions. “I’m theorizing, that’s all.” 

“Theorizing a date you don’t have anyone to take on?” Dick asks in amusement. “Is that a thing you do a lot of, baby bird?” 

“No,” Tim definitely lies. “I was just thinking about when I used to go out with Spoiler and how to translate that to civilian dating. It’s . . . an issue. Especially after how things went with the last civilian I tried to date.” 

Not that Kon’s a civilian, obviously, but he needs to keep thinking Tim Drake is one. Therefore, patrol dates are still out. And really wouldn’t count as taking him anywhere “nice” anyway, really. Tim needs to step up his game. At least, like, undercover at a gala or something. Or maybe on a yacht. 

Actually, maybe Kon would like to go to a yacht party? Does Kon like boats? Did he do boats in Hawaii? Was that a thing? 

Possible option to research, again. Note to self. 

“Not dating civilians helps,” Dick offers helpfully, then leaps into the air with the kind of height most people couldn’t get off a rocket-powered springboard and comes down in the middle of a cluster of disoriented goons with his sticks already electric and crackling. Tim is both incredibly jealous and duly impressed. “Just in my experience, mind!” 

“Please explain to me who in the community you think I could possibly date when B won’t even let me tell Young Justice my first name or be seen in public with the team at all,” Tim says dubiously, following the path he’s cleared and sweeping up a few stragglers with his staff as he does. It’s one thing not to tell a civilian you’re a superhero, but to not tell another superhero about your civilian life . . . “Any suggestions. Go right ahead.” 

“. . . maybe you should just go ask Spoiler to take you back, buddy,” Dick says with a bit of a wince, not unsympathetically. 

“That would incredibly stupid of me, seeing as we came to a mutual agreement that we shouldn’t date specifically because B wouldn’t let me tell her my name,” Tim says dryly.

“So anyway, civilians!” Dick says brightly, doing a very complicated and fancy-looking backflip that somehow ends up in a roundhouse kick that takes out three guys at once and then landing feet-first on a fourth’s head, because Nightwing is a terrifying badass like that. Tim, again, is jealously impressed. “I hate to say it but you need to case-by-case basis this, Robin, there’s no ‘one size dates all’, you know?” 

“That’d be a lot more convenient,” Tim sighs, jabbing his staff into a few joints and then tripping one of the more dogged grunts with it. She hits the ground face-first with a yelp and the distinct crunch of a breaking nose. Tim might feel a bit bad about that if she and her whole crew weren’t actively trying to murder them for the crime of inconveniencing an arms deal. That seems like a very disproportionate response to him, honestly. When he’s running the Gotham underworld, he’s going to make it very clear to his foot soldiers that unnecessary escalation is not actually a useful long-term survival strategy. It just doesn’t go well, historically speaking. “What if I just throw money at them? Is throwing money at them a valid strategy?” 

“Not even slightly,” Dick says dryly. 

Tim thinks that’s probably not true under these specific circumstances, though he supposes offering fiscal security isn’t the best first move in flirting. Probably not romantic enough or whatever. 

Tim thinks taking care of someone for the entire rest of their life is perfectly romantic, actually, but fine, he’ll buy some damn aquarium tickets and then do the bank fraud. 

Nobody wants to commit these days.

[astheforcewillsit]

Tbh I wish Dooku stayed a Jedi because whoever his clone commander was (or whatever clone he was in close proximity to) would become the wealthiest sugar baby in the galaxy. and idk why it would be either cody, rex, or fox

might be all three of them.

or maybe even some random member of the 501st he happens to meet because he tags along with obi-wan and anakin.

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 3 - CEO Obi-Wan and Sugar Baby Anakin

For an anon who requested: Hello, for your kinktober prompts, would you consider sugarbaby!Ani? Or maybe CEO!Obi-Wan and intern!Anakin?

Cause I Want It - 4,669 (lol) Rating: E Content: Established Relationship / Explicit Sexual Content / Alternate Universe / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / CEO Obi-Wan Kenobi / Sugar Baby Anakin Skywalke / rAnal Sex / Anal Fingering / Rimming / Come Eating / Desk Sex / Office Sex / Bottom Anakin Skywalker / Top Obi-Wan Kenobi

---

There was something about men in ties that appealed to Anakin.

The way in which the muscles of their hands flexed as they put it on, the sharp tugs and quick movements as it was looped and then tightened, the brush of fabric as it squeezed down ever so around the long cords of a thick neck…

Anakin knew the exact moment he became obsessed with men in suits. His mum loved to watch old movies from back before colour existed on the television, and after a long day’s work she’d lounge in her chair with a bowl of microwave popcorn as the pretty men and women traipsed around on set, love in their eyes and passion in their voices as they revealed years’ long love that had changed the very fabric of their being. Anakin had always found them too sweet for his tastes, preferring movies with a few more explosions and a few less kissing scenes, but when he walked by one night and saw him on the screen, Anakin was enamoured.

Jaastor Kimbhorn.

He was in some film about a woman potentially losing her inheritance after her parents died in a shipwreck. He was supposed to be her lawyer, but ended up becoming too attached to her case and had to recuse himself. Anakin really didn’t care about the plot of the film though, even as his mother caught him up as he stood dumbly in the doorway. All he cared about was how hot Kimbhorn was. Dressed in a three piece suit with a tie that sat snuggly against the knot of his throat, he cut a magnificent image with his slicked back light hair and perfectly trimmed moustache, light eyes twinkling in every scene he was in.

The man was the embodiment of power, of wealth, and ambition.

From then on Anakin realised he had a thing. But it wasn’t anything different to any other attraction he insisted to Padmé when she’d found out his hidden kink, and it wasn’t weird like Ahsoka had said, even as she blushed and sputtered when Anakin pointed out that her obsession with girls’ tan lines was also weird.

Occasionally he’d admire a man in a downtown bar fresh from work and still in his suit, his tie hung inelegantly from his neck as he ordered another whiskey with a chaser. Anakin would toy with the idea of approaching the man; ask who he was, where he worked, show interest until Anakin inevitably panicked and walked away after saying something ridiculous. But they were all just fantasies, Anakin far too shy and awkward to actually approach a stranger in a well tailored suit.

But when Anakin began working for a tech company that developed robotics to aid the medical industry, Anakin’s obsession only increased. Of course the department he worked for in the company was filled with people who bucked and brayed against corporate culture and wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit let alone a tie, but any time one of the higher-ups walked past his office or popped their head into see what was up, or even stopped to chat with Anakin next to the coffee maker in what seemed like a bid to relate to one of ‘common folk’, Anakin was forced to recognize that Jaastor Kimbhorn wasn’t just a phase or a passing interest.

Anakin just really liked men in suits.

One man in particular, in fact.

A man that Anakin really shouldn’t have approached that one day in a bar but did anyways, because it was the one day he was feeling confident and willing enough to at least ask. A man who smelled like expensive cologne and sounded like one of the men from his mum’s old movies, accent crisp and smooth as it danced across Anakin’s jaw and temple as he leaned in to speak. A man who let Anakin tug on his tie as they made out in the back of a cab, hands searching and lips tasting of expensive cocktails while the taxi driver tried to keep his eyes on the road. A man who in the morning made Anakin breakfast and let him paw through his collection of old records as they waited for their teas to steep and bread to toast.

A man who Anakin worked for, apparently.

His stomach sank when he realised that this handsome man who told him to call him ‘Ben’ all night as they sucked each other’s tongues was actually Obi-Wan Kenobi, a self-made billionaire, philanthropist, and the CEO and founder of Kyber Computing.

‘I hope you don’t hold it against me,’ Obi-Wan had said when Anakin saw the framed newspaper article hung on the wall of his office.

‘I hope you don’t fire me,’ was all Anakin could say in turn.

But Obi-Wan didn’t fire him. In fact, he asked for Anakin’s number and to take him out to dinner that Saturday night.

And of course Anakin said yes. And of course Obi-Wan showed up in a magnificent suit that Anakin was sure cost more than his apartment and car combined.

They kept things casual at the start, Obi-Wan busy with work and Anakin still worried about the implications of Obi-Wan technically being his boss, but reality quickly set in for both of them that casual just wasn’t something either of them could make work. Text messages turned into daily calls which turned into daily face-times, Obi-Wan managing to squeeze some time in every day just to see Anakin even if it was through a phone screen. When he did have time Obi-Wan took Anakin out on all sorts of dates, many of them expensive but others still intimate and quiet, the pair sat on the front of Anakin’s car as they ate cheap hot dogs and gazed out at the countryside view, or lay on Obi-Wan’s bed as they listened to his record collection and talked about everything and nothing.

Anakin was gifted with all sorts of things, many of which he loathed to accept but Obi-Wan insisted on. His busted up watch he’d bought from a chain store for twenty credits was replaced with a gold watch that sat heavy on Anakin’s wrist; his lumpy mattress became a pillow-y soft one that didn’t make either he or Obi-Wan wheeze when they stood up from it; tires on his beat-up old car were replaced, followed by the cracked windshield, then the battery, then the spark plugs, followed by the whole car.

Anakin had never envisioned he would end up dating a man whose riches were only exceeded by his generosity, but then again, Anakin had never envisioned he would end up finding anyone in general, let alone the CEO of the company he worked for.

And it was all because Anakin liked a well-tailored suit and silk ties.

That, and the fact that Obi-Wan seemed to be into whatever brand of crazy Anakin was peddling. Which maybe spoke more to Obi-Wan than Anakin, but Anakin wasn’t going to complain.

XXX

They agreed to keep their personal lives separate from their work ones, which had been easy at the start. Anakin worked in a completely separate building from Obi-Wan, his work station a desk piled high with wires and tubing and schematics, the windows looking out across a parking lot, the walls covered in all sorts of clippings and photographs that made Anakin look like a detective trying to solve the murder of a robot. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan worked from the top floor of the company’s downtown office tower, his desk covered in papers, empty tea cups, and scattered pens, the windows looking out across the entirety of the downtown core, his walls covered in accolades and fine art.

But occasionally their respective roles would cross, and the promises they made to keep things professional went out the window. Mostly it was Obi-Wan visiting Anakin. He would come to see what they were up to at the factory and Anakin would pretend to give a shit about his projects before he’d drag Obi-Wan into an abandoned closet and demand to be fucked against the shelf of cleaning supplies, or in the back of Obi-Wan’s expensive car, or under Anakin’s desk with the scent of plastics and soldered wiring thick in his nose.

But every once in a while Anakin would get to go and see Obi-Wan in his little castle in the sky.

“How much longer?”

“He will be finished when he’s finished, Mr. Skywalker.”

“But it’s been twenty minutes and the food is getting cold—”

“Mr. Skywalker…”

Obi-Wan’s assistant sent Anakin a glare as he sat back down. Next to him the take-out he’d brought continued to cool, the steam that had billowed out long since dissipated. He could still smell the curry though, and his stomach growled obnoxiously.

That earned himself another glare.

Tilting his head back he stared up at the ceiling, his feet kicked out in front of him. A part of him wanted to interrupt Obi-Wan’s call and demand that he give him all the attention he wanted, but the sensible part - the part that Ahsoka said he lacked - told him to continue to wait. Obi-Wan would appreciate his patience and in various ways, if Anakin was lucky.

Another five minutes passed before Anakin tossed his head back up to the upright position and sat up a little straighter in his chair. He caught sight of Obi-Wan’s assistant daintily eating her lunch while she watched something on her phone.

“What are you watching?” he asked.

She looked up from her phone and stared at Anakin. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who else would I be asking?”

She sniffed and glanced back down at her phone, a sudden blush appearing on her cheeks before she spoke. “Love Planet.”

“Is that the reality show where they stick a bunch of singles on a planet and see who fucks who?”

“No,” she said quickly, “it’s to see who falls in love.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Sure, okay.”

Just before he was about to get an earful from the assistant about how the show was clearly about love and not hot people hooking up, the system on her desk lit up and a familiar voice travelled through.

“Is Anakin still there?” Obi-Wan asked.

“He is,” the assistant replied as she glared at Anakin.

Standing, Anakin grabbed the curry just as Obi-Wan asked her to send him in, and he swiftly went through the door and into Obi-Wan’s office. Without asking he locked the door and turned around to look at Obi-Wan. He was sitting back in his chair, copper locks of hair draped across his bangs in an uncharacteristically dishevelled state, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to expose his forearms, tie slightly loose around his neck with the top buttons of the collar popped open.

If Anakin hadn’t trusted Obi-Wan more, he’d have said he looked like he’d just been fucked.

“You look like you’ve just been fucked,” Anakin said aloud.

Obi-Wan snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps not in the literal sense, but definitely in the figurative.”

“Bad call?”

“Potentially. Hopefully I can put the fire out before it burns too much.” Obi-Wan smiled tensely, but it was soon swept away when Anakin held the food up. “Lunch?”

Stepping further into the office, Anakin dropped the take-out bags down onto Obi-Wan’s desk. “I didn’t get us drinks - figured your mini-fridge would be stocked full of all sorts of fancy water that hurts to drink.”

“It’s no different from pop,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

Anakin rolled his eyes and stepped around the desk. Sitting on the edge he spread his legs slightly and smiled when Obi-Wan rested his hand on his knee. Obi-Wan squeezed slightly before sliding his hand further up, fingertips pressed into the inner-seam of Anakin’s jeans.

“Water should be still,” Anakin continued.

“It tastes no different from normal water, Anakin.”

“It tastes spicy.”

Obi-Wan chuckled and closed his eyes. Exhaustion slipped across his features then, the sight of it making Anakin’s chest squeeze a little. Reaching out he brushed Obi-Wan’s bangs back from his forehead and smiled when Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open.

“The curry is a bit cold now, but I can go heat it up somewhere if you want.”

“In a moment. Right now I’d rather just be with you.”

Anakin tilted his head to the side and chewed his bottom lip, watching as Obi-Wan’s pupils expanded ever so. “Be with me…” Anakin repeated, voice soft. He took Obi-Wan’s hand and guided it up further, the tips of his fingers almost touching his groin. “Or be in me?”

Obi-Wan’s startled laughter made Anakin laugh as well. It eased the tension in the room, and Anakin slipped off the desk only to straddle Obi-Wan in his chair. It groaned slightly with the combined weight, but Anakin paid it no mind.

“You wanna talk about your call?” Anakin asked. He moaned softly as Obi-Wan cupped his ass and kneaded the muscles.

“Not particularly,” Obi-Wan mumbled. He tilted his head up to look at Anakin, adoration visible just beneath the haze of arousal. “Are you able to take a slightly longer lunch today? Your boss won’t miss your presence terribly like I will?”

Grabbing Obi-Wan’s tie, Anakin tugged at the soft silk, making Obi-Wan’s neck arch slightly, the knot on his throat bobbing after a thick swallow. “I mean, you’re my boss’ boss so you tell me. Can I stay a little while longer?”

Obi-Wan caught the back of Anakin’s neck in a tight grip and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. Anakin sighed into the embrace, his lips parting to allow Obi-Wan to sweep his tongue inside, their tongues rubbing in lazy motions. It wasn’t often that Obi-Wan allowed himself the impropriety of fooling around with Anakin in his office. Though he was prone to bouts of insanity commonly brought on by a hard-on, he still tried to withhold when it came to basic decency such as not shoving his tongue down Anakin’s throat and his hand down the front of his jeans in the middle of the work day.

But every once in a while Anakin caught him in a good mood, or a bad mood, or just a mood in which he let his walls crumble and his hands wander.

Shifting his hips forward Anakin started grinding down on Obi-Wan as they continued to kiss, open mouthed and messy as they groped one another. Keeping a tight hold on Obi-Wan’s tie, Anakin tugged slightly on the material, pulling Obi-Wan closer while Obi-Wan’s hands slid down his back to cup his ass, kneading and pulling at the muscles. With a gasp Anakin pulled away and rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, his hips still grinding down while Obi-Wan responded in kind, the familiar thick swell of his cock pressing against Anakin’s underside.

“Want a blowjob?” Anakin asked.

“With you beneath my desk? How cliche.”

“You want one or not?”

“I’d rather fuck you,” Obi-Wan said. He caught Anakin’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. “Unless you’re not still loose from last night…”

“You think I’m always loose for you?”

“Aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan reached between them and undid Anakin’s belt, popping the button on his jeans before pulling the zipper down. Without wasting a second Obi-Wan slipped his hands beneath Anakin’s jeans to touch him in full, his warm, broad palms sliding along Anakin’s skin before thick fingers slid between his cheeks to press against his hole. Anakin gasped and bucked backward, desperate for more stimulation.

“See?” Obi-Wan mumbled against Anakin’s lips. “Your greedy little hole is still ready for me…”

Anakin groaned and kissed Obi-Wan again, messy and uncoordinated as Obi-Wan kept pressure against his hole, teasing him with the simple thought of being filled. Anakin had never been much of a size-queen when he’d started seeing Obi-Wan, but the second Obi-Wan pulled himself out to present his thick, fat cock to Anakin, suddenly Anakin could think of nothing but the satisfying ache of being stretched.

Letting out desperate moans Anakin gripped Obi-Wan’s collar with one hand, the other sliding up his neck and along his jaw before tangling in his silken locks, tugging them further out of their styled hold. Eventually Obi-Wan snapped and his grip tightened, his muscles tensing as he quickly hefted Anakin up and dumped him unceremoniously onto the desk. Anakin narrowly missed the take-out food, and with less care than was needed he pushed it to the side, sending piles of papers on Obi-Wan’s desk to fall to the floor.

“You’re making a mess of my office,” Obi-Wan chided as he undid his belt and pulled his tailored slacks down.

“I’ll be making a mess of you too, when all is said and done.” Anakin grinned and teased the tip of his tongue out from between his teeth as he too pulled his jeans down to his thighs, the fabric catching on him.

But before he could get frustrated Obi-Wan grabbed at them as well, pulling them down until they caught on the tops of his shoes. Batting Obi-Wan away for a moment, Anakin sat up and awkwardly kicked his shoes off before collapsing back on the desk, letting Obi-Wan undress him the rest of the way. He hissed as the cold air from the air conditioner hit his cock and balls, but didn’t have time to complain before Obi-Wan began warming him up, his palm hot across his length.

Bucking up into Obi-Wan’s touch Anakin stretched out across the desk, moaning loudly as Obi-Wan pushed into the slit of his cock and played with the ridging along the glands. He stared up at Obi-Wan through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring the lock of hair that draped across his brow, the collar of his shirt mussed and open, exposing the undershirt he always wore beneath. His watch jingled with each thorough tug he gave Anakin’s cock, the sound of it oddly erotic as it mixed with their pants and the slick sound of precome across smooth skin.

“I’ll still need a bit of prep,” Anakin said. Spreading his legs a little, he braced his hand at the base of his cock while Obi-Wan continued to touch him, fingers pressing against the seam of his balls, causing him to let out another loud moan. “I know you’ve got lube in your desk drawer.”

“I never used to keep a bottle there,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin detected a hint of another sort of blush beneath his already pink cheeks. “I used to be quite professional, you know that?”

“Liar,” Anakin said. He hissed slightly when Obi-Wan wrapped his hand around his own and squeezed, forcing Anakin to squeeze down on the base of his cock, denying him further pleasure. “A professional man doesn’t go home with some stranger he met at a bar after only two drinks.”

Obi-Wan’s grip lessened, and his eyes softened slightly as his attention wandered down between Anakin’s legs. He stroked Anakin’s thigh with his free hand, petting him gently. “Not a stranger,” he said softly as his gaze came to rest between Anakin’s legs. “More like a soul that I felt an instant connection to. Why waste any pretences when we both knew the steps of the dance?”

Anakin’s chest squeezed a little, but he brushed away the intimacy with a soft laugh. “Fancy way of saying you really wanted to see what my cock looked like.”

Obi-Wan smiled - a quick little quirk of his lips that always made Anakin feel special - before he pulled away and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Shuffling around a bit, he took out the bottle of lube and presented it to Anakin.

“Knew you had some,” Anakin said.

Bending his knees, Anakin rested his feet on the edge of Obi-Wan’s desk and presented himself, his hands sliding up beneath his shirt to expose the plains of his stomach. He preened under Obi-Wan’s hungry gaze, loving how Obi-Wan practically fucked him with his eyes before touching him in any way, his cock pulsing with each admiring look. His grin only grew wider when Obi-Wan hovered above him, his heat and the scent of him enveloping Anakin as Obi-Wan pressed two thick fingers against his hole.

He relaxed immediately into the intrusion, groaning as he was once again filled. They’d fucked the night before, Anakin riding Obi-Wan until his knees and low back ached. Afterward Obi-Wan had given him a massage and prattled on about a trip they could take together once Obi-Wan found the time to get away for a bit. Both knew it probably wouldn’t happen, but Anakin had to believe.

Tugging Obi-Wan down by his tie, Anakin kissed him deeply again. He tasted like cinnamon gum and his own unique taste, Anakin swallowing it up as he was stretched further when Obi-Wan slipped in a third finger. He probably didn’t need to be prepared, but Anakin enjoyed it all the same. Obi-Wan was always so careful and yet demanding in his touch, never giving Anakin more than he could handle but also not holding back.

He gasped into their kiss when Obi-Wan found his prostate, blunted fingertips pushing into the bundle of nerves. Pleasure hummed throughout his body, pooling in his groin before fanning out to lick and lap through his limbs up to the top of his skull. Sucking on Obi-Wan’s tongue, Anakin tugged him closer until they were hugging, not an inch of space between them as Obi-Wan continued to finger him.

“You’ll come just from this,” Obi-Wan whispered against Anakin’s lips when they broke for air.

“No I won’t,” Anakin huffed, “I can control myself.”

“You always say that right before you come.”

Anakin felt heat crawl along his cheeks and chest, and he pushed Obi-Wan away gently. “Then get to it.”

Obi-Wan slipped his hand out, the weight and stretch of them immediately missed by Anakin. Sitting up on his elbows Anakin watched as Obi-Wan pushed his shirt up to expose his cock as it swung between his legs, thick and heavy and leaking. Biting the inside of his cheek, Anakin admired the flex of Obi-Wan’s wrist as he stroked himself, slicking his cock with lube and his own seed.

He wiggled his knees a little when Obi-Wan looked at him, tongue once again teased between his teeth. “Will I get paid overtime for this?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Positioning himself between Anakin’s legs, he braced the base of his cock and locked eyes with Anakin before he pushed inside. Immediately the familiar stretched overwhelmed, and Anakin dropped back down onto the desk, eyes squeezing shut as Obi-Wan’s girth stretched him open. The familiar satisfying ache returned, Anakin’s own cock pulsing against his belly, and he tugged at it a few times as Obi-Wan settled deep within.

Opening his eyes as soon as Obi-Wan had pressed in all the way, Anakin stared up at him. He’d closed his eyes, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched as he restrained himself, tension and pleasure flickering across his handsome features. His tie hung inelegantly from his throat, knocking against Anakin’s jaw, and he grabbed it and wrapped it once around his hand, locking Obi-Wan in place.

Curling his hips slightly, Anakin wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan’s waist and dragged him in further, causing them both to moan.

“Your secretary is gonna hate me even more,” Anakin murmured.

Obi-Wan’s laughter started and then immediately stopped the second Anakin tightened his walls. Adjusting to the pressure, Anakin kept a firm hold on Obi-Wan’s tie before Obi-Wan’s eyes finally opened. Gazes locked, Anakin leapt into the ocean blues of Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Move,” Anakin whispered.

Hands braced on the desk, Obi-Wan began fucking Anakin with a quick pace, pulling out before snapped back in. Anakin let out another cry and held on to Obi-Wan’s tie even tighter, tugging him down to crush their lips together. The pace quickly became brutal, Obi-Wan’s cock stretching Anakin open, striking him deep in his core, as if he was being hollowed out and then stitched back together with each hit. The desk began to rock with the motion, the wood groaning beneath the weight, the sound of it mixing with the sharp slap of flesh against flesh and the needy moans that slipped between locked lips.

Wrapping his free arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders Anakin held on for dear life, his low back curved, hips angled, ankles locked together as he pulled Obi-Wan in as far as he could go. Pleasure coursed through him, his cock pulsing between them, thick streams of precome coating his exposed stomach and messing up Obi-Wan’s tailored dress shirt.

The thought of reducing Obi-Wan’s perfect suit to ruin turned Anakin on more than he knew it should have.

Maybe Ahsoka was right; maybe his kink was weird.

“C’mon, darling,” Obi-Wan huffed against Anakin’s lips, their breath hot as it bellowed between them. “C’mon, that’s a good boy. Give me everything you have… c’mon, love.”

Anakin came then. Gripping Obi-Wan’s shoulder Anakin threw his head back and arched, his walls tightening as he locked Obi-Wan in place, hips rocking slightly as he ground upward, milking Obi-Wan for everything he had. Another spasm ripped through him and he let out a loud groan, body tightening and then relaxing as his orgasm rushed through him. Again and again he spilled as Obi-Wan continued to push into him as he too rode through his own pleasures, little grunts and words of praise spilling from his lips as he filled Anakin up.

Once done Anakin collapsed back on the desk. His entire body felt like jello as the afterglow sunk in, relaxing him until he thought he’d slip off the desk and melt into the carpet. He tried to hold on to Obi-Wan but was denied the simple pleasure as Obi-Wan pulled out, his cock slipping from Anakin. But as soon as Anakin was about to complain Obi-Wan dropped down to his knees, and Anakin felt his tongue slide along his sensitive, puffy hole. Anakin let out another moan and bit his knuckles as Obi-Wan began licking him open, cleaning him up with broad strokes of his tongue and the soft suction of his lips. Anakin relished in the sensation of Obi-Wan’s tongue on him and the soft sounds he was making, little groans mixed with the lap of his tongue and the huff of his breath as he ate his own come from Anakin’s loose hole.

But soon this too ended, and Anakin opened his eyes to see Obi-Wan stood over top of him. Dropping his legs down, Anakin lay like a limp fish on Obi-Wan’s desk, trying to catch his breath.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hullo,” Obi-Wan mumbled. He pet Anakin’s thighs.

Sitting up Anakin groaned as his afterglow gave way to the familiar ache of muscle and bone. He sighed as Obi-Wan collected him into a hug, and rested his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Thank you for lunch,” Obi-Wan said, voice soft along Anakin’s temple, his hands soothing as he stroked his back.

Anakin snorted and pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck. “Anytime.”

[tennessoui]

For the fake fic title “One for the Money Two For the Show (I was never ready so I watch you go)” because Star Wars is just in my opinion so Taylor Swift coded

Jedi Knight Anakin has been attending the opera with Palpatine since he first came to Coruscant. He really, really hates the opera, but it’s made significantly better when there’s an accidental shortage of seats and the Chancellor’s box gets an unexpected (and unwelcome, if you ask Palpatine) guest in the form of visiting dignitary/king from Stewjon, Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin is absolutely enthralled. He’s in love. He has forgotten Palpatine even exists. He wants to be in King Kenobi’s lap by the second act. He has stars in his eyes. His hand is still warm from when they shook hands. Kenobi asks which has been his favorite opera. Anakin can’t remember the name of a single opera but bullshits his way through an impressive answer.

Palpatine is gagging in the background. His hard work over the years trying to get anakin to fall is being ruined before his eyes. Anakin has never seemed so Light. It’s disgusting. Palpatine needs to sabotage this now. He remarks that he never thought anakin truly appreciated the coruscanti opera. Anakin blushes all red. Kenobi tells him he would be welcome to come to Stewjon to see their own performers, as he’s quite fond of them—of course, Kenobi’s palace is in Colsteph, the capital city, and the cultural hub of Stewjon is really Olijon, further south, but if Anakin ever found his way to the planet, perhaps he could do a trip around their biggest cities and countrysides…..

anyway anakin is in love by the end of the night when they go their separate ways, and King Kenobi requests his presence on and off for the entire week he is on Coruscant, except neither of them acts on their attraction because Kenobi thinks Jedi are celibate and Anakin thinks Kenobi isn’t interested

Kenobi goes back to Stewjon and Palpatine at least is relieved, until he is faced with a sulking Anakin who doesn’t want to go to the opera or fancy restaurants or hang out with him at all because it’s too painful and reminds him of King Kenobi too much

(which means, with great reluctance, Palpatine has to engineer a situation where the king and Anakin meet again — after he informs King Kenobi that actually, yes. Jedi fuck. Galaxy’s most painful conversation. King Kenobi now thinks Palpatine knows Jedi fuck because anakin is his sugar baby or something. King kenobi is displeased and believes this to be rather predatory and quietly gets his friends in the Senate to open an investigation into Palpatine’s behavior)

context: people sent me made-up fic titles and I’m telling them what I would write to go with the title

[rebecca-lotto]

in which i write about the corrie boys

when paired up with the extremely over-caffeinated , overworked & underpaid bunch of college students that is the corrie boys , anakin -human disaster , and senator amidala's husband + sugar baby'- skywalker looks like he has shit together. like obi-wan without the whore energy

if R2 had a credit for every time he's seen anakin force-scruff Fox, he'd haven enough cash to afford obi-wan's therapy bills.

there's a betting pool on what palpatine will do that'll cause fox to snap & kill him .

the highest odds are on 'makes a shiny cry in front of fox' and " drinks fox's venti espresso by mistake"

and anakin would finally start picking up Mando'a by hanging otu with these red menaces (affectionate)

also the corrie boys def made the star wars equivalent to death wish coffee.

although the corrie boys' version has at least twice as much caffeine compared to our world's version of it.

the corrie boys are definitely regulars at the local starbucks.

fox has most certainly spooked quite a few baristas by asking how much is it to fill a venti cup with nothing but espresso.

[padawansuggest]

Mace: Can you just, like, tell me again?

Obi-Wan: Master Windu, I’ve said it three times already.

Mace: I know. I wasn’t recording before. Proceed.

Obi-Wan: …Knight Vos and I were going to Starbucks but he didn’t wanna talk to the workers so he pulled backwards into the drive through so I could talk for him and we got our order and then got a ticket for ‘reckless’ driving.

Mace: Uh-huh. And that’s why we have to pay your ticket?

Obi-Wan: Quinlan can probably afford it. I can’t. I have a reputation to uphold! I can’t be caught /paying/ for things as if I’m not a high class sugar baby!

Mace: Amazing, on camera even. Go get a Senator to pay it? Organa likes you well enough.

Obi-Wan: *whining, makes sad groaning noises and stomps out of the room* I ain’t doin shit and it’s all his fault! Make his crackhead ass pay it!

[kingdomvel]

WIP Wednesday

Extra from Welcome to our castle

Anakin and Obi-Wan go for some tea in Stewjon's Capital

(Read the snippet under the cut)

Anakin sighs as he sits down on the chair. They have spent the whole day walking around, visiting places. The capital is as lovely as Anakin thought it would be, but there is also a lot of people. That is why he, even if he is not tired, welcomes the peace of the place they are in now. Obi-Wan had insisted they had some afternoon tea, and Anakin had let himself be led to a building just in the heart of the old town, to a big library with tall columns, a wide central hall surrounded by smaller nooks between the bookshelves.

They are sitting in one of those alcoves, the rest of the library hidden in a way that makes them almost feel like they are alone. The window at the other side lets them see the groups of tourists, but it is soundproof enough that they are not bothered by the noise.

Anakin pulls out his phone as soon as the woman that led them to their table leaves.

“What are you looking for?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice genuinely curious.

“I’m looking up this place to see a menu, she didn’t leave one with us.” Anakin answers. He opens the first search result, the library’s website.

“There is no menu,” Obi-Wan answers, “the menu is pre-set, they will bring the savouries in a minute.”

“Yeah but they must have some menu here.” Anakin says, scrolling through the page. “Like to at least know what they are going to serve and how much is it.” Obi-Wan reaches out for his phone then, but Anakin stops his hand before he can take it from him. He pauses. He has found the menu. “Sixty pounds?!” he exclaims, and immediately realizes he probably spoke too loudly. “Obi-Wan, your afternoon tea is sixty pounds per person.”

“I know Anakin.” Obi-Wan answers, infuriatingly calm as always.

“That is almost how much I wanted to spend on food in out two days here.” Anakin says. Obi-Wan must know that sixty pounds for some tea and sandwiches is not normal.

“For the two days?” Obi-Wan asks, with a frown. Anakin nods. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I insisted we came here, you are obviously not going to pay.”

Anakin doesn’t answer, not immediately. Of course Obi-Wan would insist on paying, But they are already staying at his house and not at an hotel, he had already insisted on paying for the breakfast too. Anakin was always aware of the differences between them, Obi-Wan was the owner of a castle, for fucks sake. Anakin would be lying if he said he didn’t find it hot, the difference between them, but…

“I am not your sugar baby.” Anakin says. Obi-Wan looks at him with wide eyes, surprised, at the same time as there is a thud on the table. Anakin looks to the side. The waitress has just left a silver tiered tray on the side of the table. She looks slightly blushed, embarrassed about what she has just heard.

“I-“ she starts, and clears her throat, “can I bring you some kind of tea?” she asks.

“Just normal black tea for now, thank you.” Obi-Wan answers. The woman nods before she turns around and leaves. Once she is no longer within earshot, Obi-Wan turns back to Anakin and leans forward on the table to be closer to him. “Anakin I know you are not my sugar baby.” He says, his voice low, soft. “I never once thought like that about you. I like to think that our-“ he frowns, struggling to find a word, “arrangement is deeper than that. If I decide to spend some money on you, to make use of my… patrimony, it’s not because I think you want it as some kind of compensation. Trust me a bit here, will you?”

Anakin doesn’t answer, thinking it over.

“You can pay tomorrow for some normal what, five pounds tea?” Obi-wan says, and it makes Anakin smile.

“Okay,” Anakin agrees. The waitress brings them their tea then. As soon as she leaves, Anakin reaches out for the teapot, but he is stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Anakin we’ve talked about this, let it sit for at least three minutes before you pour it.”

“What? Sixty pounds and they can’t bring the tea ready to drink?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, but there is a small smile playing on his lips.

“At least pour the milk first.”

“I strongly believe that the order does not influence the final product.” Anakin says, just to tease Obi-Wan, because he has very strong opinions on tea and Anakin loves to reel him up about them.

“You should be banished from this country.”

[ricky-tiki-tah]

If you're still looking for Ego prompts, maybe Wilford? 👀

Yes! I’ve had an idea for him banging around for a little bit.

—Story Time—

Mornings were always a quiet affair. Most of the other egos figured that Wilford needed his coffee to wake up in the morning, as any attempt to interact with him before then was largely unsuccessful. Only a few of the older egos knew the truth.

“Good morning, Wil.”

William hummed a quiet greeting to Dark, nodding towards the Jims at the kitchen table as he grabbed his mug, once again thankful that Dark gets up early enough to make coffee before everyone else is awake.

“Morning Not-so-Pink Jim!” One of the two Jim’s currently at the table spoke up.

“Mornin’ CJ.” William responded, turning around to lean against the counter and sipping his coffee.

Dark turned to grab the sugar and whipped cream, in preparation for Wilford’s memories to slot into place. “Any plans today, love?”

William shrugged, closing his eyes to just enjoy the quiet. “Got a meeting with Kathryn later. Think I’ll work on new interview questions til then.”

At this point the pink was returning to his hair and mustache, so Dark passed him the sugar. “Tell Kathryn I said hello, would you?”

Wilford nodded, reaching for the whipped cream and digging through a cabinet for the rainbow sprinkles. “Oh sure! Here’s to hoping she doesn’t mention the mess that happened yesterday!”

Wilford clinked his overly sugary mug with Dark’s, pressing a kiss to the other’s cheek before turning to head towards his studio. “Later Jims! I’ll look over your footage after my meeting.”

“Later Pink Jim!” The duo chorused.

AJ turned to look at Dark, who raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Reporter Jim wants to interview William.” CJ spoke up.

Dark shook his head, finishing off his own coffee. “That’s not advisable, Jim. Wilford doesn’t know about his lapsing into William, and I would rather not find out what would happen if he were to find out.”

“Permission to interview Wilford, Demon Jim?” AJ asked.

“If you don’t ask about William, I don’t care AJ. Goodness knows what you four will do otherwise.” Dark replied. They had long since given up arguing with the Jims that they weren’t a demon.

—

“Wil, I can’t find Roosevelt!” Artie ran up to the pink journalist.

“Well then I’ll help you look! She’s bound to be around here somewhere.” Wilford pat the boys head reassuringly before turning towards his manager. “Excuse me Kathryn, this is of upmost importance. Roosevelt is expecting and Artie here has been busy making her a comfy little nest.”

Kathryn sighed but nodded. “Well we were nearly done already. I’ll leave the notes on your desk. Nice to see you Artie.”

“Nice to see you Kathryn!” Artie waved, tugging on Wilford’s hand. “Let’s go Wil!”

“Later!” Wilford waved. “Oh, Bim was wanting to talk to you too.”

“Alright. Good luck Artie.”

“Thanks!” Artie was finally able to pull Wilford away and towards his room.

“Have you looked in your treehouse yet, King?” Wilford asked, watching Artie tug him along with amusement.

“Yeah, she’s not actually missing though. I just had to think of something to get you out of the meeting.” Artie admitted, opening his door and making a beeline to his window.

“Oh really, whatever for?”

“Roosevelt had her babies!!” Artie explained, leading the way across the rope bridge to his treehouse.

“Oh did she now! That’s wonderful!” Wilford laughed, following the boy’s lead in staying quiet and moving slowly.

“Look!” Artie pointed towards one of the nest holes. “They’re so tiny!”

“Indeed! What do you plan to name them?”

Artie hummed deep in thought, milling it over as he studied the squirrel kits. Wilford smiled fondly, petting another squirrel while he waited.

“I think I’ll call that one Sherbet, that one Rocky, that little one Obi-Wan, and that one Moose.” Artie finally decided, pointing to each kit as he named them.

Wilford laughed. “Lovely names, I’m sure they’ll grow right into them!”

Artie beamed. “Oh they will! I’m the best King of the Squirrels ever and I’ll make sure they grow up to be big and strong little squirrels! Oh, the Jims want to interview you again, by the way.”

“Of course, they’ve only done so twice this week, I was waiting for them to come looking for me again.”

—

“There you are, Darkling!” Dark looked up as the pink ego appeared in their room.

“Hello Wilford, how was your day?”

“Oh it was great!” Wilford started, sprawling across Dark’s lap. “I scheduled another interview, and that meeting with Kathryn went splendidly! Oh say, did King tell you about his baby squirrels? They’re so adorable and tiny! And of course the Jims interviewed me again. This time they wanted to know how some of my hair is pink and I told them ‘well how should I know? It just is!’”

Dark smiled, setting his book aside and carding softly through said pink hair while he listened to Wilford ramble on about his day.

[hannibalzero]

Are there any omegaverse ideas tickling your brain lately? Preferably for Obikin but any ship is fine <3

I always have something going around my mind. Most of the time they are just scenes. Like these don’t fit in any of the stories I have going on or not strong enough for a stand alone story or something out of my writing capability.

1. Omega Obi-Wan has decided on having a baby. But with no lover. He’s been looking for a donor, notebook in hand. He’s been making notes of potential fathers. Only the best to make the best babies! Anakin takes the notebook and writes across the pages big red ink…Anakin Skywalker. Over and over and over again. Obi-wan gets the hint.

2. Padawan (18) obi believes he is broken. He’s an adult and has never had a heat or felt sexual attraction. Not a bad combo for a Jedi but he feels like he is missing something. Quigonjinn brings home his new Padawan Anakin Skywalker (18) much to old to begin training but throws Obiwan into one monster of a heat just by meeting the young alpha…….Quigonjinn instantly regrets all of this……

3. Arthur Morgan, playing poker with the other men of the Van der Linde gang. While nursing his newborn babies like nothing has changed. “Jesus Morgan! I can’t play with you no more!” “Whys that Bill? Not feeling lucky?” “No because ya are nursin’ two babies! Ain’t right to be motherin’ while gambling!” “What the fuck you want ma to do? Babies gotta eat!” Bill throws down his cards.

4. Heat drunk and regular drunk. Omega Arthur Morgan meets alpha Charles Smith in a bar. This is before Charles joins the gang. “I like you, I know I do….smell good and have that handsome little smile.” Arthur slurred pushed up on the less drunk alpha. Charles laughed shaking his head. “I’m flattered but I’m sure your alphaaaaa.” Charles almost cried out when Arthur picks him up like a child starts marching up the stairs. “Your ma alpha sugar!”

Aka Arthur picked up Charles the only way Arthur could. My physically picking him up and taking him to a room.

(Not to worry if Charles really said no he would stop. Arthur is a lot of things but wouldn’t hurt anyone like that.)

[sarcastic-sketches]

Do Echo and Fives recrut Kitsune!Anakin for their shenanigans? Does he agree? How many headaches does Cody get from these three?

Bold of you to assume Echo and Fives recruit Anakin, rather then the pair of them recruiting themselves to Anakin's mischief. Especially when they notice that the most common target is Captain Rex - it's fine if their General started it right? - but if he wants to fuck around and find out with General Kenobi he's on his own. They are not getting between two Jedi... they will absolutely cover for him though because the 501st are stupidly loyal.

They also know better than to try and cajole Anakin into joining them for their pranks since they usually try and target Rex which would not go down well with their Kitsune General. Anakin playing with Rex is fine, and the twins can support him in that, but if they instigate shenanigans against the poor man, not so much.

This is also a good moment to say that in this AU Echo still gets blown up at the Citadel but is retrieved (by being caught mid flight by a set of Kitsune jaws) and gets some prosthetic legs and a forearm. He and Anakin are now metal arm twinsies!

There's a brief period of tension where the work needed for Echo to be able to go back onto the frontlines (which he was adamant about thank you very much) was considered to be more effort than it was worth. Afterall, clones don't exactly get benched...

The Kaminoan's argument was that a new clone would not be as 'defective' and would be more cost/time effective then supplying Echo with prosthetics. This is met with Plo Koon weighing in to point out that Commander Wolffe has an artificial eye and his work is exemplary, Obi-Wan pointing out that Echo's field experience is invaluable this deep into the war, and Anakin giving the Kaminoans the middle finger with his own prosthetic hand.

So, Echo gets some basic durasteel limbs which Anakin immediately starts buffing up because he has contacts to get the good materials (he is dangerously close to becoming Padme’s sugar baby at this point). Echo may or may not ask for the casing to be in 501st blue and white.

[somethingsteff]

Fic Rec!!

Just finished reading this sweet au with sugar baby!Obi-Wan, and I didn't realize that I needed him in my life until I got him. So cute and sweet and fluffy, and of course I'm not mad at reading a Christmas fic any time of the year.

Summary: Obi-Wan had never had any desire to be spoiled. Except, well, Anakin was really very good at spoiling Obi-Wan, and, very surprisingly, Obi-Wan was good at being spoiled by Anakin.

[renlyslittlerose]

Hey guys! I have five (5) more slots open for kinktober 2024! If you've any ideas, please send them in and I'll see what I can do!

Here is a list of what I have already written. I'm totally cool with repeats from what I wrote last year, as well:

Piss kink

Coming untouched

Sexting

Lactation

Handcuffs

Touch starved

First Time Rimming

Chastity / Priest AU

Beard burn

Glory hole

Force Sex

Sugar Baby Anakin / CEO Obi-Wan

Public sex

Pillow Humping /Voyeurism / Getting caught

Praise Kink (Obi-Wan has it this time!)

Sex Party / Made to watch

Piercing

Obi-Wan helps sooth Anakin with his dick (I don't know how to summarize better than that lol)

Tickling

Obi-Wan tries to seduce an oblivious Anakin

Daddy kink / pillow princess Obi-Wan

Sharing a sex toy

Face sitting / 69

Tramp stamp

Body worship / Small penis

Arranged marriage / Age gap

Reminder of what I will not write: omegaverse, genderbend, role reversal, non-con, scat, emetophilia, threesomes or more (too much work lol)