#I broke my wrist

[lostyth]

niji women in suits

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[moosemann404]

I don’t know how to tell you this but as my mother was on her #th watch of the Harry Potter movies on dvd, I realized Gilderoy Lockhart is the Saul Goodman of the wizarding world

So I guess I have a new crack ship

A visual aid for the doubters:

[kbluebirdart]

Don't go, woof!

[shodaw]

Bicep vs. Leg day. Which do you prefer?

[dragonpyre]

So I got surgery recently. Didn't know you could breathe through your nose

[paper-birdies]

I've been reading a Gravity Falls fanfic called "The Therapist" by @bapple117, where you - The reader- are Bill Cipher's Therapist in the Theraprism. I was on Bapple's Discord server and came across a conversation asking "What if Bill had a secret collection of art he made of the therapist and got super flustered when the therapist finds them."

Posted that and then someone mentioned that in a panic, Bill would probably try to eat the art and tries to eat the pages.

Anyways, I freakin' love this fic and this funky lil' guy.

[wildechildwrites]

Limerence

Looney Tunes Part Three

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+, Masturbation, romcom antics, may make you kick your little feet.

No use of Y/N

Summary: You and König have dinner together. He thinks about you in the shower.

A/N: I'm alive! sorry about the delay. I promise you'll fuck in the next chapter

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

König responds to your usual greeting with a grunt, eyes flickering down to you. He’s in fatigues again, covered in what is definitely blood, filling the elevator with the smell of iron and sweat. You can read the tension in his shoulders, the way he slumps into himself. A wave of sympathy washes over you. 

“König,” your voice surprises both of you, and you clear your throat. “You look… tired.” 

He gives you a shrug and a noncommittal noise. He helped you carry your groceries, and he got that light in the parking garage fixed for you. Favors are not weird. You press on.

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll make you something to eat?” you say shyly. “Not cereal. If you tell me your apartment number I can bring it up to you?” 

The soft look in his eyes is almost worth the panic you feel when you get back to your apartment and realize you don’t have anything in your fridge. You throw together some pasta, mentally cursing yourself for never buying fresh parmesan. 

König lets ice cold water run over him, blood circling the drain. Even with the chill, his dick stands at attention. He curses into the silence, fighting a losing battle against his self control. You’ll be here soon, sharing a meal, all alone with him. He’s been so good. So patient. 

 You were completely unaware of the grasp you had on him, inconspicuous words branding themselves into his brain and bringing him to his knees. 

König wants you, wanted you ever since that first interaction. You seemed so unafraid of him, unaware of how easily he could snap your pretty neck. Your survival instincts could use some work, so clueless to his shadowy presence behind you, overly friendly when everyone else was running scared.

You were adorable. Delectable. Stumbling into him, wasting your breath on whatever silly thought popped into your head. Letting him barge into your life without complaint. He wonders if you'd let him inside of you with just as much ease. 

Doubtful, with how big he is.

His grip around his dick is so tight that it's painful, but he fights on, eyes scrunched tight, imagining how tight your pussy must be, bucking into his hand. He'd have to stretch you open first, make you cum on his fingers before he could even think of fucking you.

You’re looking up at him, eyes dewy, lips parted as he slams his hips against yours. You gasp every time he’s fully inside you, crying out and digging your nails into his back as his cock drags against your g spot.

"Sei leise häschen, you don't want the neighbors to hear." he coos down at you, dick throbbing when you whine in response. 

In the aftermath, he feels dirty, shame curdling his desire. 

You were so sweet. He could imagine you right now, humming in your kitchen, making dinner for him. König washes himself quickly, his traitorous mind still full of the thought of you. 

Something about you, so light and ridiculous, brings him to the brink. He had never intended to kiss you that night. You had been far too drunk, but something about holding you in his arms had made his cock rock hard and his reason desert him as you blinked up at him, confused and a little frightened. You had tasted better than he thought you would, so warm and soft, melting into it, and he had wanted to eat you. 

He pushes down the memory of the way your lips felt on his when there’s a knock on the door. 

The door to König’s apartment swings open, and you make eye contact with the muscular planes of his still damp torso, laced with scars and bruises. Your traitorous eyes follow his happy trail down to the sweat pants sitting dangerously low on his hips before you’re able to catch yourself, face burning as you snap your head up to look at him. 

“Sorry häschen, I lost track of time,” König says carelessly, pulling the t-shirt in his hand over his head. You exhale quietly, your thoughts an incoherent screech. The t-shirt does nothing to hide his form, stretching across his pecs, his biceps bulging. He smells amazing, something cleanly masculine, and your head swims at the proximity. He smiles at you in his odd, crooked way, and looks down at the dish cradled in your hands. 

“What did you cook for us?” He asks.

“Uh…” God, you’re articulate. You look down at the pasta, trying to pull yourself together. “I just threw together some ziti. I hope it’s okay.” 

“I am famished, I’d be happy with cereal.” He steps aside, and you get your first look at his apartment. The set up is similar to yours, everything in the same place, but his is bare. The furniture is nice, all blacks and grays, but there’s nothing on the walls, not even a tv in the living room. A bookshelf is the only real sign of life, filled to the brim with books. You make a beeline for the kitchen, placing the hot dish on the stove. 

“Where do you keep the bowls?” you ask, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. König soundlessly enters the kitchen behind you, and he crowds in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body as he grabs the bowls from the top shelf. Between this and the way he touched your face the last time you saw him, you wonder if he’s purposefully fucking with you. 

He sits an appropriate distance away from you on the couch, which gives you enough room to start having coherent thoughts again. You study him as he wolfs down the food, vindicated when he finishes an entire bowl and helps himself to more. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the tracing of some ugly bruises forming on his knuckles.

“Rough day?” you ask. He sighs, leaning back, head thunking softly against the wall. You watch his adam's apple move up and down as he swallows. 

“You have no idea.” he finally murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. 

You take a private moment to admire the contours of his face, the jagged, slightly crooked set of his nose, the light scars littering his skin. Your eyes trace down his long neck to his collar bones, and you stop yourself from lingering any lower. That was a dangerous game to play. You break out of your indecent contemplation, rising to your feet and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

“Come back here,” König’s voice has a petulant edge to it, his eyes are open again, tracking your movements. He pats the couch next to him, and you tentatively move to sit down, trying to give him space. You don’t want to overstep. He lets out a huff, one large arm reaching for you, pulling you towards him, crushing you against his chest. You squeak in surprise, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. You lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat is loud against your ear. 

The room is dark when you wake, König’s voice rumbling in your ear, “Wake up, little one.” 

You’re groggy, and disoriented, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

“What time is it?” Your voice is scratchy from sleep. There’s a dim light coming from the bedroom, and your eyes slowly adjust.

“It’s almost midnight. You’ve got to scurry back to your hole, häschen,” König says, but he’s still got his arms wrapped around you, trapping you against his body. “Or maybe I just won’t let you leave,” his voice is almost playful, but there's a dissonant chord to it. You wiggle against his grip, and after a beat he releases you, allowing you to stand. 

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a yawn. You pat your pockets to make sure you’ve got your keys and phone and head towards the door. König trails behind you. When you hesitate at the door, you’re struck with deja vu, the similarity of last night. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says softly. You smile up at him, then steel your nerve. In a quick motion, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him to your level. You place a quick kiss on his lips and try to pull away, but he stops you, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you in for another kiss. His mouth is warm against yours, hungry and insistent, and you let out a gasp when he nips your bottom lip. When he pulls away, his pupils are dilated, his cheeks flushed. You both stare at each other breathlessly. 

“You’ve got work early,” he says, his voice low. “I’d hate to keep you.” 

You’re suddenly self conscious, hyper aware of the soft dismissal. He’s not wrong, but you wanted him to want you to stay. “Have a good night, König,” you murmur. He softly kisses your forehead, and you creep out the door. 

You can feel his eyes on your back all the way to the elevators.

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

Taglist

if you want to be tagged for the update let me know in the replies.

@whos-fran @crazy-phan-girl13 @rebelatbay @kaeriustehe @envy-kitty @dillybuggg @mxblobby @nakedcrackers @aigeneratedprincess

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Of Finally after days I got Enough courage to say this...

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR ART!!

You are the First Welcome Home artist I followed And I Don't Regret it.

And now Laughingstock Lives in My Head 24/7

Annd the Way You draw Wally is just so...

I don't even know how to describe it!

Your Art brings me so Much Joy!!!

- Blue Anon 🫐

!!!! thank you so much!!! i'm happy to Provide! have a Wally scribble i have to almost completely redo <3

[crimsonsnippet]

A nocturnal serenade

[leoverdoze]

chuuya my glorious ginger king. and dazai’s there too ig

[catstamei]

Made my own alive but gay bracelet... yeah

[0n-is-tired0]

fucking finally!!

Finally after so long it's finished bsisjskwlw all of y'alls oc is very awesome!!

@darlivory /@07009 @theratcloset @mitnn @hitchhikeerrrr @nuri4ever @amazingbananabread @dizzypossum @cherieonow @sloopjohnpizzanose

[solargeist]

after running away from the watchers, grian breaks his wing crash landing into hermitcraft, so he has to relearn how to fly

[shesmore-shoebill]

As promised: An Amangela fic inspired by the whole "Hey Siri, remind me I'm an asshole at 2:30 tomorrow" arm grabbing in the latest Sounds Fishy video.

Written sporadically over the course of today, edited on the go. Completely platonic although there ARE bits in here you can interpret otherwise if you'd like.

also yes when i posted about this earlier today i said it was 2.6k words. You might notice it is 4.2k words. Thats because I wrote everything leading up to the actual inspiring event. And then when I tried to wrap up the fic the actual event snuck in and doubled the size. Oops.

[mickidona]

Commissions open ! DM me to grab a slot or ask any questions

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Reblogs are highly appreciated !

[you-know-i-get-itt]

seth gordon is like boromir from lotr