#“i wonder what this button does!”

[s1ck-pupp3t]

I love, Ms Paint. CHEERS!

OK real art dump over. Click MORE for Real dumb stuff

something something They faces killing me why nobody gaf. Its a Transparent .PNg! You can put them any where to Not Care About.

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[stjernec]

Taipei Black Butler Haul Feb 2025 :]

[earl-grey-crow]

someone needs to take coyle to coyle's

[webanglikethat]

#see if remy had enough brain#she would write the angst of devi being resurrected#and her feeling like she lost a part of herself#and she'd cry at this post cause what if the old her was the only good version of her#or worse#what if her now /after literally dying/ is the only good version of her#and what if she feels dead for the rest of her life#ANYWAY#a hot person does not speak ill of deviya.

THE ANGST WE COULD HAVE GOTTEN

[todayisafridaynight]

Religiously i think about one of my twitter mutuals pointing out how aoki's design is subtly asymmetrical while ichiban is more symmetrical

when i think of it, masato's design is fairly symmetrical as well isnt it.....

[kraniumet]

least spirited extortion campaign

[fisticuffs-bee]

if i had a nickel for every rhythm game ive played where the main character uses a (mostly) red and white guitar and has a robotic arm, AND the games both had some fantastic jazz tracks, i would have two nickels. which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice

anyway sadly i cannot play gitaroo man because of the fourth level

[hqmillioncorn]

FFXIVWrite Day twenty-four (free day): Eggy

with @windupnamazu 's Butter and Pancake and Cinnamon and @windupiceheart 's Vertical Height and B'ig Nunh (sorry again)

Babycorn stopped walking when she noticed the seagull perched on a corner of the mansion. Then she noticed that Coco was standing on the front lawn, he was practicing different types of poses with his bow out. Was he trying to look cool or something? “Hey Coco!!” Babycorn called out to him.  “Eeep!” Coco jumped in place, “W-What?!!?” Babycorn pointed up at the bird as it stared back down at Coco. “Your son is here. You should say hi!” The seagull let out a CAW.  “That’s not my son!” Coco couldn’t believe he had to say this every time.  “Didn’t you lay his egg?” “NO! No I didn’t!!!” 

It was an early morning like any other. 

That morning Babycorn had asked Lunya for some help on a dress she was making and then she just never left, as she often did when she hung around her friends lately. Always finding some excuse to stick around or just sitting there until she had to leave and this time was no different. 

Babycorn had finished the work on her dress and was now lying on the floor with Cherrypit next to her. They were both very busy at work, collaborating on a drawing with Babycorn drawing most of it and Cherrypit was coloring what he wanted to with his crayons. 

Meanwhile Lunya was alternating between tidying around her room and making sure that neither Babycorn or Cherrypit bit down on any crayons on her watch. 

So far she had narrowly stopped Babycorn from biting down on a yellow crayon and a blue crayon. Her reasoning had been something along the lines of, ‘But so many tasty things are the same color!’ and Cherrypit nodded his head alongside his sister, a crayon in his mouth. 

Lunya really wondered how the siblings had survived up to when they all met. 

“What color should this be Cherry?” Babycorn pointed at the person she had just finished drawing in. It was pretty hard to tell to anyone that wasn’t her but the scene she was drawing was a dear memory to her.

The day that she learned she was gonna be a big sister. 

The person that Babycorn was pointing at was their papa. Cherrypit still recognized him. “Bu! Bu!” He held up a blue crayon and waved it around before he got to work on coloring. 

Babycorn watched her brother continued to color, then turned her attention to what Lunya was doing. Lunya was sitting on a chair, reading a book with a really long title that Babycorn couldn’t really understand. There were so many things that Lunya could be reading about. After all Lunya knew a lot about a lot of things, at least, that’s what Babycorn thought. 

If there was anything Babycorn ever wanted to know Lunya was one of the first people she ran to for an answer. It had unknowingly been that way for a while.

Babycorn looked back to see that Cherrypit had finished coloring with his blue crayon. “Bu!” He stuck the crayon in his mouth and chewed on it a little.

Right on cue Lunya spoke up, “Cherry take that out of your mouth.” Her eyes never moved from looking at the book she was reading. 

Cherrypit giggled a little and spit the crayon out. “Amama!” he babbled, before falling over backwards into a pillow and lying there for a little bit then sitting back up. He picked up another crayon and held it towards Babycorn. “Daw? Draw!” 

Babycorn grabbed the crayon from her brother and smiled, “You got it!” She laid down on her belly and began to draw once again. As she began to draw her mama, a question popped into Babycorn’s head.  “Hmmm…” Babycorn hummed to herself. She looked to look at Lunya, wondering something to herself. 

“Hmmm?” Cherrypit tilted his head and repeated after his sister. 

“Hey Lunya? Can I ask you a question?” Babycorn asked.

Lunya turned a page in her book. “Is it if you can eat one of the crayons?”  

Babycorn was silent for a suspicious amount of time. “N-No..” Truthfully that had been one of her questions but not the questions she wanted to ask.

“Then what did you want to ask me?”

“Where do babies come from?” 

“HurK?!” 

Lunya almost let the book she was holding drop from her hands. “Where do babies come from? I-Is that it?” She asked to make sure she had heard right. Babycorn nodded over and over at her and Lunya found herself looking around the room in a tizzy.

The easiest answer would be to tell Babycorn the truth but this was the same Babycorn Corn who was known to be a blabbermouth among everyone living in the mansion. There was no doubt in Lunya’s head that as soon as Babycorn learned about ‘this’ she would go and tell literally everyone she ran into.

Lunya looked around the room for anything that would help get her out of this situation. Or to give her a clue on how to answer Babycorn’s question. To her right and spotted her guestbook. That didn’t help much, only reminded her of the time Babycorn stole a burning log from her fireplace and set Himbo’s kitchen on fire.

Eventually Lunya’s eyes landed on a potted plant. The flowers were adorned in such a way that it reminded her of Coco’s poofy and fluffy hair.

“From eggs.” Lunya answered, “They come from eggs.”

“Woah! Really?!” Babycorn could hardly believe it.

“Really.” Lunya turned to another page of her book she was still reading. Parenting your friends for Dummies, a book that had fallen on her head like it was destiny or something. Weirdly enough this had happened just a few weeks before today.

Babycorn watched as Cherrypit went off in his coloring again. This time he was coloring their mama with a purple crayon. “Eggs…Babies come from eggs…” Of course they came from eggs!

Where else would they come from?!

After a bit of being in Lunya’s room Babycorn decided that she was hungry, and rather than risk getting scolded by Lunya for eating more crayons, she decided to go and see if there were any tasty snacks in the kitchen. 

Both siblings said their good-bye’s to Lunya, grabbed their drawing and headed out the door. 

Just as they were going to head down to the kitchen, Babycorn turned her head and noticed that Butter and Pancake were sitting on the staircase heading to the upper floor. They were talking with each other. Cinnamon was there flying over their heads, making those funny ringing noises again. 

“Hi Butts! Hi Pancake! Hi Cinnamon!” Babycorn ran over to and waved at them. Cherrypit was right behind her. They looked just as happy to see her as she was to see them. Babycorn took a seat on the stairs next to Butter. A fact that did not escape the ever observant Pancake and Cinnamon. 

“Ehehehe…” They laughed to themselves. And also Cherrypit, but he was just laughing along because it was fun. 

“What are you guys doing?” Babycorn asked. Something that’s usually asked before you decide to sit down and insert yourself into a conversation. Not that any of them minded though. 

Cinnamon flew over and gestured to the dirty plates that all of them had stacked up while Pancake explained for her tongue-tied brother. “We were eating a pudding Butter made! It was reallyyyyyyyy tasty!!” The pudding was made out of chocolate and vanilla. It was something that Pancake had specifically asked for a couple of days ago and Butter had promised he would make. “We saved some if you want to try some!” 

“Really?!” Babycorn’s eyes were practically sparkling. “I would love to!!!” 

“You gotta promise you’ll leave some for Linnet! I promised her some too!” Pancake urged her.

“Promise!” 

That’s when what Lunya feared would happen, happened. 

“Oh!” Babycorn’s pom stood straight up, “Today Lunya told me where babies come from!” She laughed, kicking her legs in excitement, “Do you want to hear?! I can tell you!” She really had no idea if any of them actually knew where babies came from, it wasn’t something she considered. Babycorn was just always happy to share things she learned. 

Butter and Pancake looked at each other with a knowing look. If Lunya had been the one to tell Babycorn where babies come from they had a feeling what Babycorn would say. She had told them the same thing some time ago. 

It wasn’t until Sirius sat both of them down and sternly explained the entire thing to them. He had even given them a quiz to do at the end of the lesson, that’s just how serious he had been about the whole thing. 

Cinnamon laughed haughtily, “Well of course I know! They’re baked in ovens! Duh!” 

Just like Babycorn, Cinnamon had not been present for Sirius’ lesson. 

“They come from eggs!!” Babycorn raised her arms in the air, “Babies really came from eggs this whole time!!” She felt sooooo smart and normal. 

Butter didn’t know where to start. “A-Actually Babycorn that’s not…” He paused. At that moment he realized he didn’t really want to be the one to explain this to her. He started to wonder if Sirius was busy today. Considering how he was, he probably was out there doing something important. 

“Babies don’t come from eggs!” Pancake protested. Just like Butter however, she didn’t elaborate further. 

“Yeah! They come from the oven!” Cinnamon helpfully added.

Butter decided it wasn’t worth it to argue with Cinnamon, since Babycorn couldn’t hear her anyway and there was no real harm in Cherrypit probably couldn’t understand what Cinnamon was saying anyway. He looked like he was too busy looking at the drawing in his hands anyway. 

Just then B’ig Nunh wandered into the scene, carrying a large crate full of eggs in his arms. 

Babycorn could hardly believe her eyes. 

Babycorn sprung to her feet and screamed, “Ohmigosh B’ig?! Did you have all those babies?! How many babies are you gonna have?!” 

B’ig stopped in his tracks. “Ex…Excuse me?” What had Babycorn just asked him? 

Before either Butter or Pancake could stop her, Babycorn ran down the stairs and towards B’ig. “You had all these eggs, right? They’re all gonna hatch into babies! Lunya told me that’s where they come from!!” Babycorn clapped for her good friend B’ig Nunh and Cherrypit also clapped besides her, “Congrats on being a mama now B’ig!!” 

“HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH?” B’ig had NO idea what Babycorn was talking about but he didn’t like a single word that Babycorn was telling him. 

“oh damn. really? congrats.” 

“YOU WERE THERE WHEN I BOUGHT THESE??!?!!” For a matter of fact, when had Vertical gotten here?! B’ig took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down in order to calmly explain to Babycorn that he had NOT laid any eggs, let alone a crate full of them and he was also NOT going to have like twenty babies. 

“B-”

“So when are they going to be born?” Babycorn jumped up and hung off the crate to get a better look at the crate. B’ig nearly lost his balance and fell, if it wasn’t for Vertical grabbing him by his shirt collar the foyer would have been one-hundred percent more egg covered. “Do you have names for them yet? Are you gonna put them in a little warm box? Are you gonna give them a little hat to wear?” The questions just kept on coming. 

“you should have told me. i would have gotten you a present.” 

“I’M NOT??? HAVING BABIES???” B’ig was desperate. Vertical had been there when he bought these eggs!!! What in the world was she talking about?! He was going to cry. He was really going to start crying. 

At this point Butter and Pancake knew that they had to step in. Butter walked up to Babycorn and gently moved her away from the crate and back onto the ground. “You okay?” He asked, hoping that he hadn’t hurt her somehow. 

Babycorn was a little confused, “I’m fine! See?” She wiggled her hands around and stomped her feet. 

B’ig Nunh was less than okay. “WHYY WOULD YOU THINK I’M HAVING BABIIIES?!” He wanted to set the record straight. “I’M NOT! I DIDN’T LAY THESE EGGS! I SWEAR!” 

Babycorn’s eyes lit up again. She had another chance to tell someone what Lunya had told her! It never even crossed her mind that B’ig would already know this considering he had ‘laid’ a bunch of eggs already. “Lunya told me where babies come from!” She put her hands on her hips and stood proudly. “She said they come from eggs!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” B’ig was distraught. How could this happen to him? What had he ever done wrong to deserve this? “BABIES DON’T COME FROM EGGS!!” He cried. Some babies did but not the babies Babycorn was thinking of.

“Huhu? Of course they do.” Lunya couldn’t be wrong about this.

Butter nervously (more than usual) stood next to her and coughed, “Actually…Um, B’ig is right. Babies don’t come from eggs…” 

Babycorn looked almost a little disappointed. She knew Butter wouldn't lie to her about anything. He must be telling the truth. “Are you sure…?” She asked. Because, then again, Lunya would never lie either. Would she? Then who was telling the truth? 

“Pretty sure…” Pancake told her. “If it makes you feel better we thought babies came from eggs too! Cause Lunya told us!” In hindsight it was a pretty silly thought that they had believed in that at the time but Pancake could understand how someone could believe in it right away. 

“It made sense to me.” Babycorn was confused, “Me and Cherry were born from eggs.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“HUh??”

“huh.” 

“HUH?!” B’ig nearly dropped the crate full of eggs on the ground.

“What the FUCK?!”

There were a couple of distant steps, quickly getting louder and louder. Until Lunya ran into the room herself. “HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH?!” 

Babycorn smiled, “Yeah! Did I never mention it?” When everyone shook her head at her, she tried to remember if she had ever actually said anything about it. It seemed like the answer was a resounding No. Babycorn gestured over to Cherrypit and he handed over the drawing that they had been working on in Lunya’s room.

“Look see?” Babycorn turned the drawing towards everyone for them to look at. It was just as it was before, a picture of Babycorn’s memory of when she found out she was going to be a big sister. There was her, her papa, her mama and the egg she was holding in her hands. 

Babycorn pointed at the egg her mama was holding. “That’s Cherry! When he wasn’t born yet!” He had been a pretty big egg, or at least big when compared to Babycorn’s size at the time. “My mama also told me that I had looked just like him when I was small too! Cept’ my egg was more smaller.” 

Pretty much everyone there was shocked at how nonchalantly Babycorn was describing all of this. Almost everyone. 

“Ooooh! That’s cool!” Butter looked at the drawing and then to Babycorn, “Was it hard to hatch out of an egg?”

“I don’t remember!” Babycorn grinned. 

Lunya stared right at her son that was three years younger than her. “You two couldn’t be a more perfect match if you tried…” She whispered under her breath. Truly it would be a struggle to find someone that would take all of Babycorn’s Babycorn-isms as carefree as Butter did. 

Lunya couldn't wait to tell Sirius about this.

[fallowtail]

i try not to let it get to me but the knowledge i am always going to be The Stupid One in every situation i’m in just…really, really sucks. sigh. oh well. i stay silly :3c

[bumpscosity]

I don’t think I ever posted abt this but I think it’s funny anyways last time I went to disneyland I went on so many rides that when I got in the car to go home I put my seatbelt on and for a split second I freaked out bc I couldn’t find the yellow strap to pull on 💀

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

YOUVE BEEN ABLE TO CHANGE UR CANVAS SIZE IN IBISPAINT THSI WHOLE FUCKING TIME ?????? im so stupid holy shit

[spurbleu]

i really need johnny with a bird who’s never been eaten out before because I know that man is hungry.

johnny and you have been inseparable since the cradle. a friendship older than his siblings children. which means the both of you are entirely transparent with each other- the skin and bones of your stories is consumed without question. that includes, appropriate or not, sexual encounters.

when you tell him, he’s just shy of appalled. given, you hadn’t been with too many men, but enough that it’s strange none of them have even offered to get their mouth between your legs. especially with how good he knows they’d feel, on his-their shoulders. how sweet you probably taste. how hot it would be to watch you- fuck.

“ah will.”

you throw a confused look over your shoulder as you pour the both of you another cup of tea.

“you’ll what?”

“eat ye out.”

you feel the lavender go up your nose and steam your sinus until it short circuits. you miscalculate where the stove is, and set the pot down with a loud clank. wincing, you look back up at him, searching the blue of his eyes for any sign of humor.

when you come up empty handed you realize he’s entirely serious.

“johnny- i don’t think-“

“donae play coy nae, ah wanna show ye whatcha been missin’.”

your lips flatten into a harsh line. you run your tongue on the backs of your teeth, trying to collect any courage you’ve got in you to respond. friends don’t eat each other out…right?

but he’s doing it to help you. to…show you what you’ve been missing. a favor. a kindness between you and the strong, wide shoulders you’ve cried on.

your mouth is sticky when you respond. “okay.”

his grin is wolfish. “aye, tha’s a girl.”

he guides you to the couch, with enough gentleness to make you flush. kneels between your legs as you rest up against the pillows he set behind the arch of your back. slides your pants off with one hand, the other on your waist, thumb swiping in a soothing rhythm below your belly button.

you feel like syrup, leaning your head back and missing the way he licks his lips when he looks at your damp panties.

“relax, hen. yer gonna enjoy tis, promise.”

he does not eat you out with the same softness he prepped you with. slides your panties to the side and immediately shoves his nose between your mounds, and you gasp, spine arching away from the pillows instinctively. he laughs, but it’s muffled by your soaked lips.

explores every fold until you don’t know if you’re soaked by your own arousal, or his spit. but doesn’t matter, because soon he focuses on your clit, and your hands come to crowd his hair. tugging at his mohawk, rolling your hips forward into his face.

“w-wait…hah..”

he doesn’t, tongue ruthless against you. the sensitivity burns- new sensations flaring up from your core to your belly, legs beginning to shake. he feels it, and hooks them around his shoulders.

he’s messy, too. the sounds echoing off your cunt and against his nose are obscene, but he doesn’t quit it until you’re riding his face and to lost in your bliss to still operate under your usual shyness.

you silently wonder what he’s getting out of this. you’ve been friends forever, and although sometimes your banter feels flirtatiously charged, neither have ever acted on it. something you acknowledge but never name. water it and then shove it back in the closet you played dress up in as kids.

and now he’s eating you out. for fun.

you want to ask him, but you only get as far as, “J-Johnny…Johnny fuck- fff…w-why?”

you moan when he separates from your swollen cunt, only to be yanked from your stupor when he pulls you closer to his mouth by your hips.

“because,” again, eyes uncharacteristically serious, “ah’ve been tryin’ fer years.”

dives back in, and adds his two fingers deep into your hole as he sucks on your clit. at that, you cum over his face, limbs crowding his head with the incoherent curses your orgasms rips out of you.

when he pulls back away from you, he gives your cunt a harsh pat, and pulls your mouth apart with his thumb, before placing his fingers on your tongue.

“taste tha’?” his stare is hungry, like he didn’t swallow everything you had, “tha’s what the bastart’s you’ve been wastin’ yerself on have’bin missin’.”

you nod, like you’ve been taught a lesson. he pulls his fingers away, stands and stretches. when he looks back at you again, whatever beast possessed him is gone, and he smiles at you smugly.

“fun, yeah?”

you lean your head back, spent, “fuck off.”

“aw, c’mon nae, no tank yew? shame on ye, using me like tat.”

you throw your hands in the air. “you offered!”

he laughs, and the air is normal. you almost forget you’re naked. almost forget you came over his face.

almost miss how he pockets your panties before grabbing the cups of tea from the kitchen.

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

DISCORD BOYFRIEND KÖNIG

sfw + nsfw. this is just an amalgamation of all my ideas

könig has never been one for putting his face on social media. even before the scars that pull at the skin of his cheek, reshaping his expression in ways he’s never fully grown used to, the idea of being seen, really seen, has never sat right with him. there’s a certain comfort in anonymity, in keeping the world at arm’s length. easier that way. safer.

that unease, paired with what some might consider his more nerdy interests, means he gravitates toward spaces like discord rather than the highly curated feeds of instagram or facebook. there, he doesn’t have to worry about photos or videos— just a username, and a presence in text.

his handle is simple: king 👑. a nod to the name he’s carried for so long, stripped of rank, stripped of weight.

even in the server where he’s most active, he keeps things vague, blending into discussions about games, military history, or whatever niche interest has caught his attention that week.

every now and then, he’ll let something slip— a mention of deployment, an offhand comment, disappearing for months at a time, only to return with a sudden burst of activity. some put the pieces together. most don’t. and könig prefers it that way. it’s easier to let them think he’s just another guy with spotty internet.

your first interaction is rather simple in retrospect.

he’s back after weeks of recon, shaking off the mission like dirt from his boots, easing into the familiarity of a gaming server he’s called home for years.

it’s not a small server, so new people come and go. he does his usual routine— an automated, slightly impersonal welcome but what he doesn’t expect is the sheer enthusiasm in return.

“hi!!!!”

he stares at the message for a second, counting the exclamation marks. three. four. five? a small smile tugs at his lips before he even realizes it.

it doesn’t take long before you’re at his metaphorical side, sending a friend request before the conversation even shifts from your college courses.

the older members tease him. something about his last deployment scrambling his head enough to take a newbie under his wing. he lets them talk. he doesn’t mind.

soon enough, you’re in his private messages, dramatically lamenting your latest loss in a game he’s only vaguely familiar with. könig listens— well, reads— as you rant, words spilling out at a rapid-fire pace, interspersed with keyboard smashing and increasingly incoherent frustration.

he’s not much for new releases, preferring to sink his teeth into a single game for months on end, grinding away until mastery is muscle memory. still-

one evening, without preamble, he sends you a link. his profile. in your game.

the response is immediate. ‘king!!! 🥺’ you type, followed by an onslaught of keyboard mashing that takes up half his screen.

he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. he wonders if you know how easy it is to make him grin like an idiot.

the calls are… an unexpected development.

könig doesn’t make a habit to join server calls. ever. it’s not even about anxiety, not really, just preference. too many voices, too much noise. he never expected to be comfortable enough with anyone to want to be in a call, let alone initiate one.

but when you start gaming together, it becomes a necessity. typing mid-match isn’t exactly efficient, and you’re the first to point that out.

“okay, listen, king, i am not about to lose another ranked match just because you take five years to type ‘behind you.’” he huffs, amused, but relents.

soon enough, calls become second nature— no longer tied to gaming, no longer requiring an excuse. you always ask first, polite thing that you are, and könig always agrees. sometimes it’s an unspoken invitation, a simple “call?” sent in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he beats you to it, pressing the button before he can think too hard about it.

one time, it’s you who calls. he answers on the first ring.

“are you- wait.” you pause, listening. there’s a distinct, rhythmic thud-thud-thud in the background. not footsteps, but something heavier, more controlled. “are you on a treadmill?”

“mm.” his voice is steady, unaffected. a quiet confirmation.

you gasp, and he can practically hear the amusement brewing in your tone. “oh my god! you actually work out? i thought you were lying.”

he snorts, breath hitching slightly as he adjusts his pace. “why would i lie about that?”

“i don’t know! you just- i mean, you sit at your desk all day, playing the same game for hours, and you’re always online at weird times-”

“you are describing yourself,” he points out.

“shut up.”

there’s a pause, and then, with the kind of mischief that only comes from knowing exactly how to push his buttons, you add, “prove it.”

he slows to a walk, swiping open his phone. a moment later, you receive a picture. him, flexing. the lighting is dim, but you can still make out the cut of his forearm, the solid shape of his bicep. just to humor you, he throws up a peace sign.

“not stolen from pinterest.”

you burst into laughter so sudden and bright that he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.

you learn what it means to miss könig pretty early on.

it happens suddenly. one day, he’s there, active as usual, sending the occasional meme, idling in voice chat even if he’s not talking. the next? radio silence. not even a ‘typing…’ indicator.

at first, you don’t think much of it. maybe he’s sleeping in. maybe he’s busy. time zones are weird. it’s fine.

but then a whole day passes. then another. you check his status— nothing. not offline, not do not disturb, just… gone.

curiosity turns into concern, and before you can think better of it, you ask in the server.

“hey, anyone heard from king?”

the response is casual. unbothered. “oh, dude’s probably deployed again.”

you blink. reread the message. “deployed?”

“yeah, king’s military.”

there’s no warning for the way that statement knocks the air from your lungs.

military? as in, real-life combat? as in, war zones and danger and actual life-or-death situations?

you stare at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to even say to that.

he doesn’t resurface for weeks.

you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until it’s gone. his absence is loud in the quiet moments of your day, in the spaces where a message from him would normally be.

you check the server out of habit, catching yourself before you can search his username. it’s stupid, you think. you barely know him. he’s just some guy from a discord server.

but the worry lingers.

and then, one day, just like that— he’s back.

his return is as unceremonious as his disappearance.

no dramatic entrance, no fanfare. just a simple “hello.”

you see it the moment he sends it. your stomach flips.

before you can stop yourself, you send a private message. “you’re alive.”

a moment passes. then— “yes.”

you frown. “you were gone for weeks.”

“i know.”

frustration bubbles up. “you could’ve said something.”

“i couldn’t.”

you hesitate, fingers tightening around your phone. you don’t know what you were expecting. an explanation? reassurance? but it’s clear you’re not getting one.

but then, a follow-up message. one that feels heavier, more careful. “i’m sorry.”

and just like that, the irritation dissolves.

it’s strange, the way things slip back into place after that.

he doesn’t talk about it, and you don’t ask. but something shifts. after that deployment, könig starts telling you when he’ll be gone. nothing in detail, really. just a simple, “i’ll be away for a bit.”

(it means everything.)

slowly, you get used to it. the rhythm of his presence and absence, the way your conversations pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed at all.

it goes on for months. this… thing between the two of you. könig doesn’t hesitate to call it friendship, though he knows, knows, it’s something else entirely.

something with edges softer than companionship, something that lingers in the pauses between conversation, in the way you had whispered his real name under your breath when he revealed it to you.

he doesn’t rush to name it. doesn’t push. he lets it simmer until it feels inevitable.

in the end, it’s you who breaks first. technically. not that he’s keeping score. not that he would ever rub it in your face, especially when he was a mere day away from asking the very same thing.

it starts with a message. no preamble, no buildup. just a simple: hey, what are we?

könig sees it and reacts before thinking. presses the call button so fast his thumb practically smashes the screen. it rings once, twice—

“you didn’t even ask.” your voice comes through, half exasperated, half amused.

“didn’t want to give you time to unsend.” his own voice is steady, but his heart is anything but.

you huff. “bold assumption.”

“not really.”

a pause. he hears you shift, fabric rustling, the sound of you settling in. something warm and slow uncoils in his chest at the familiarity of it.

“so,” you start, hesitant. “what’s your answer?”

könig exhales, tipping his head back against his pillow. “do you want the truth?”

“obviously.”

he hums, considering. in reality, he’s known the truth for a while now. probably before you even realized it yourself.

“i like you,” he says, simple, sure. then, because he knows you, because he knows your deflections, your habit of teasing when you get nervous, he adds, “and i’m very aware you like me back.”

you sputter. “that’s a bold assumption-”

“not really,” he repeats, smug this time.

you groan, but you’re laughing, and it sends something bright flickering through him.

könig doesn’t ask for nudes. not once. he flirts, he teases, but never pushes. he knows your boundaries, respects them, never even hints at wanting more. if anything, he’s careful. too careful, sometimes. like he’s afraid of crossing a line you haven’t even drawn.

so when you finally send something, it’s your choice.

the first picture is tame. barely anything. it's a shot of your thighs, soft and warm in the low light of your room. nothing scandalous. nothing too revealing. but the second you hit send, your stomach twists with nerves.

könig sees it immediately. you watch the typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. and then— “fuck.”

you grin. “good?”

“you have no idea.”

it only escalates from there.

könig never requests more. but when you send it, when you want to send it, his reaction is worth it. he worships you through the screen, tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wishes he could touch you.

“pretty,” he texts once, attached to a voice message.

you press play. his breath is ragged, like he’s just run a mile. “pretty thing,” he repeats, voice tinged with something almost reverent. “you’re going to ruin me, love.”

the first time he sends you something, it takes him forever to work up to it.

you don’t ask for it. wouldn’t dream of pushing him into something he’s not comfortable with. könig isn’t shy, necessarily, but he’s private. you know that by now.

so when, out of nowhere, a picture pops up on your screen, your brain short-circuits.

it’s cropped carefully, but there’s no mistaking what you’re looking at— bare skin, broad shoulders, his stomach flexed just slightly.

“you like?” he texts after a minute.

you swallow hard. “yes.”

“good.” and then— “more?”

you bite your lip. “please.”

könig gets bolder after that.

he sends more. never too much, always teasing, always just enough to leave you wanting. sometimes it’s his hands, sometimes it’s his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones, the waistband of his sweatpants hanging just low enough to make your mouth water.

one night, he sends a voice message instead. you press play.

at first, all you hear is his breathing. then, slowly, softly— your name, whispered through a noise that makes heat bloom low in your stomach.

“wish you were here,” he murmurs. “wish you could see what you do to me.”

the actual nudes don’t take long. not ar all. you’re both desperate. buzzing. könig’s the one who caves first.

it starts with your text. 10 p.m., the hour where inhibitions slip through grasping fingers like sand.

“wanna see your cock so bad, könig…” you murmur to your propped phone, cheek pressed to your pillow, another one stuffed against your chest like it might replace the hollow ache between your ribs. a distraction. a poor substitute.

on the other side of the screen, he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. fingers tensing, then flexing, like he needs something to hold onto. “love-” your whine cuts through before he can even think. instinctive. needy. his stomach clenches. “okay, okay. as long as you're sure.”

his heart pounds as he opens his photos. he doesn’t exactly collect dick pics, but there are a few kept locked away, private albums, a passcode he suddenly fumbles to enter.

three minutes. that’s how long it takes to choose the best one. the right angle. the right lighting. enough to make your breath hitch when you see it.

he hits send before he can overthink it, then leans back, phone balanced on his thigh, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

your phone buzzes. the photo pops up. you blink, breath hitching sharp in your throat.

“oh my god.” the words spill out of you before you can even think to stop them. “könig…” you stare at the screen, gaze locked on the thick, heavy length of him. the way it curves slightly, resting against his thigh like it’s weighed down by its own sheer mass. your breath stutters.

“you're so fucking big.” it barely registers that you've said it aloud.

“yeah? you like it?

“like it?” you shoot back. “i want it inside me.”

his breath leaves him in one harsh exhale. he shifts, hips rolling involuntarily like he can feel your words on his skin.

“can i see you too?” he sounds so polite. and then, as if that wasn’t enough to twist the knife deeper— “please?”

your stomach flips. you bite your lip, already reaching for your phone camera, the need to show him everything burning through you like wildfire.

your breath comes shallow as you slip your hand lower, phone steady in the other. the need is a pulse under your skin, throbbing, insistent. you pull the covers back just enough, the cool air prickling against the heat between your thighs.

the camera catches everything. your slightly parted thighs, your swollen clit, the wetness gushing out of your hole. it feels like baring a secret you’ve never told anyone. you hesitate for half a second, heart racing, then hit send.

the second the message disappears from your screen, it hits you— you just sent that to him.

on his end, könig freezes. the photo loads slow, torturous, and when it finally pops up, he feels his whole body tense, blood rushing south so fast it’s dizzying. “f-fuck, i need to be inside of you-”

sex with könig, if you can even call it that, at first, sneaks up on you. you never thought you’d be the kind of person who got into this. sending texts that made your face burn, leaving voice messages you could barely listen back to without cringing. but with him, it’s different. easier. less embarrassing because it’s him.

still, going from nudes to actual phone sex takes some time.

“gonna sleep,” könig texts you once, attached to a blurry photo of his bed.

“alone?” you send back, teasing.

the typing bubble appears. then disappears. then— “obviously.”

you grin at your phone, satisfied. but then— “but i could use some company.”

you stare at the message longer than you’d like to admit.

in the past, you hadn't told him how many times you’d dreamt of him because you thought you'd scare him off, kept your mouth shut about the images that haunted you at night, of his hands pinning you down, his mouth at your throat.

didn't tell him that you had woken up panting, arousal between your thighs, könig’s name on your lips too many times. didn't tell him that you had pressed your hand against your clit during your calls, to the sound of his voice, to his laugh, to the quiet, wrecked groans he sometimes lets out when he stretches after a workout.

but you wanted to.

and tonight, you would.

the conversation turns slow. lazy. heavy with something unspoken.

“you sound tired,” könig murmurs, voice warm. he’s always like this late at night. soft, unhurried, like he’s sinking into the sound of you.

you swallow hard. your skin feels too hot, too tight. “i’m not.”

a pause. then, lower— “what is it, love?”

you hesitate, pressing your lips together. it’s too much. too embarrassing. but he knows something is different.

“talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.”

you let out a shaky breath. “i had a dream about you.”

the silence stretches.

you can hear him inhale. you bite your lip. force yourself to continue. “i think about you. when i-” you stop. you can’t say it. can’t admit it.

könig exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to steady himself. “when you what?”

your stomach is a knot of nerves. but you want this. want him. so you take a breath, close your eyes. “when i touch myself.”

his breath stutters.

“fuck.” the word is almost a groan. your pulse hammers, blood rushing through your ear as heat pools in your stomach.

“könig,” you whisper.

he exhales, whispers his next words like a beg, “say it again.”

you swallow. “i touch myself to you.”

“i do too.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

“i-” he cuts himself off with a quiet curse, like he's frustrated with himself for hesitating. “i touch myself to you too.”

your breath catches. heat blooms in your chest, spreading down your spine. “könig-”

“all the time.” his voice is lower now, raw, like he's aching with it. “when i can't sleep. when you're on call with me, laughing, teasing me. when i wake up hard in the middle of the night and can’t stop thinking about stuffing you full.”

your body is burning again, despite the aftershocks still rolling through you. you're about to choke out a reply when you hear it— the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of bedsprings, the wet slide of skin on skin.

“are you-”

a sharp inhale. “yes.”

“let me hear you,” you whisper, thinking about his pretty, pretty cock. uncut, soft skin stretched over the flushed head, the way it would slide back when he’s fully hard, revealing the deep pink of his leaking tip. the veins that wind down the length, standing out against the pale skin

there's a pause, a hitch in his breath. then, slowly— “okay.”

there's a small rustle, könig adjusting himself on the bed. the faint sound of him pumping lotion on his hand. a quiet sigh. and then, a low grunt as the warmth of his palm wraps around his cock.

könig looks down at his hand, eyes half-lidded, hips bucking up in small thrusts. he imagines your pussy instead of his fist, hot and tight and so fucking warm, fluttering around his length as he pushes in, spearing you open with a cock too big for your little cunny.

he knows you’d cry for him, little gasps and hiccupped moans, squirming beneath him as he bullies his cock deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the slick, warm clutch of your cunt.

“a-ah- fuck, ah-”

your breath stutters at the sounds, hips grinding against your palm. “wish i could see you.”

“on cam?”

you groan, squeezing your thighs around the pillow in-between your legs, grinding your clit against the material softly. “yes, please..”

fuck, you're so polite.

[merakidoll]

armin was the type of friend your boyfriend thought he would never have to worry about. armin was pretty, a pretty boy with pretty feminine features! red puffy cheeks, fat pink lips, doe eyes, and long blond lashes to tie everything in. he liked cropped shirts showing off his bling belly button ring, and abs. he liked tight things that showed his perfect figure, and armin loved having bling on his nails. bows, flowers, hello kitty, with a pretty light pink or blue color.

your boyfriend thought armin was harmless; in fact he thought he knew armin’s sexual orientation well. but was he so wrong, he began to be question why you no longer craved intimacy form him - to which he would be blown off with a simple “i’m busy.” you began to spend more and more time with armin, canceling plans with him to tend to armin but still he thought nothing of it. one night you wouldn’t answer him after yet again, leaving him for armin. he took that as an opportunity to show up. blending in with the darkness as he peeked through your window heart aching at the sight. while he thought armin didn’t like women - he didn’t, he loved them. there you were naked in the plush of your bed, your toes that were light blue in the same man he was so sure he didn’t have to worry about mouth.

he could hear your moans and the words you two shared the window doing nothing to hinder him from the sight. “m-minni please!” you begged. the suction around your toes making your pussy ache. “hold on baby” he spread your thick brown legs watching the wetness that stuck to your fat cunt and inner thighs. armin pushed your legs open, knees to your chest spiting on your clenching hole, and letting two fingers rub your clit, the gold bows shining. “y-yess” your eyes were low and burning to close. tears brimming at your water line as you bucked into his fingers bitting your lip. armin had a small smirk on his lip, moving his fingers and slapping your pussy making a little squirt dribble out of you.

his gripped his long skinny cock and tapped it against you making you both groan in unison. “you gonna do it mama?” your boyfriend’s ears perked, wondering what did he want you to do. his chest beat rapidly watching armin slid himself into you while he pinched your brown nipple. his own cock jerking in his pants at how fucked out you looked. he watched armin work his hips leaning down and kissing your lips. “say i-it baby” armin moved back to hovering over you and gripped your hips, fucking himself in you harder. “tell your minni what he wants to hear” your legs shook, your hand moving against his stomach to take some the pleasure away. “m-minnn ohmygod” squirt shot out of you again, but armin knew you could give him more.

one hand left your hips and started back rubbing your clit again making your mouth go into an o shape a silent scream falling from you. “tell me baby, then you can make a fuckin mess” your breath got caught in your throat as your pussy pulsed clenching down on him. “m’breakinggg up with himmm” squirt shot out going all over armin and your pink cover. armin smiled in victory, moving his cock to plunge into you softly. “g-gonna be mine forever” he stuttered out, quickly pulling out of you and jerking his pink cock to let out it’s orgasm on your pudgy stomach.

you and armin cuddled together, ignoring the pussy juices and cum that was all over your bodies. while you slept in armin’s arms, he looked towards the window and winked at your boyfriend, kissing your cheek as he did so.

[uyallstars]

The code is :readmore:, you cannot start with a read more apparently but you can write it later and click/tap enter

:readmore:

👋

Hi WIP: would you consider adding spoiler tag functionality to Tumblr posts? This seems pretty natural for the Tumblr community, considering the nature of fandom discussion on the site. (It would also create new and fun post interactions for the chaos gremlins.)

Answer: Hello @quantummindclassicalheart!

Fun fact: we implemented a spoiler feature in one of our Hack Weeks! And we agree it would be nice to officially have that. Only the Hack Week project hit a dead end as it required far more work, and across far more teams, than we had expected. Ultimately, it wasn’t judged a high enough priority, as much as we'd like it.

That said, there is a workaround here. We would suggest making use of the Read More (type "/more" in any post)  and adding tags about your fandom in the post (this way, people trying to avoid spoilers can add those tags in the Filtered Content). You can see examples of this in the screenshots below. Thanks for your questions, and keep them coming!