#Kesselring

[marcandreyuri]

Michael Kesselring gets a game puck from Lawson Crouse for his Gordie Howe hat trick and his 100th NHL game

[thedesertfox]

Rommel (left) and Field Marshal Albert Kesselring (centre), confer during the first Battle of El Alamein, August 1942.

Kesselring was one of the most relied upon senior commanders of the Luftwaffe and regularly visited Rommel in North Africa to provide crucial strategic advice and moral support.

[joyfulwinnerdonut]

kess!!!!

Learn More...

[historyofguns]

The Battle of Monte Cassino, fought between January and May 1944, was a significant WWII engagement in which the Allies attempted to break through German defenses at the Gustav Line in Italy. The line, fortified by artillery, mines, and machine gun emplacements, posed a strategic challenge for Allied forces aiming to reach Rome. The battle saw heavy casualties, with 55,000 Allied and 20,000 German losses. While the Allies eventually succeeded in capturing Monte Cassino, the decision to bomb the historic Abbey of Monte Cassino, where it was wrongly believed German forces were entrenched, remains controversial. Despite Allied victories, the abbey's destruction became propaganda for the Germans, painting the Allies as destroyers of cultural heritage. The final assault involved multiple Allied factions, such as the Polish II Corps, British XIII Corps, and US forces, who coordinated efforts with the Normandy invasion, ultimately leading to the German retreat and the Allied breakthrough in the Italian Campaign.

[3416]

March 10, 2025 | 📸: Hunter Dyke

[captain-huggy-bear]

Short idea… hug from behind!! 🫶🏼

Wasn't sure who you wanted so I went with Kess for this! Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You're talking to Schmaltz' fiancé, Abby, about their recent engagement as you both wait for the guys to get out of the locker room. You're so invested in the conversation about how the proposal happened and the ring that you jump when you feel arms glide around your waist, not expecting it.

Michael slides his hands over your stomach, long arms wrapping around you tightly until he's pulling you back against his chest. He's so tall, all 6ft 5 of him that he has to lean down for his chin to rest on the crown of your head, face pressing into your hair to inhale the scent of your shampoo, humming at the familiar smell. You're so warm against him, so soft and he's missed you. Missed you every minute he's on the ice even if it's only a few hours.

You lean back into him heavily, leaning almost all your weight back into the defenseman knowing he can take it, knowing his feet are planted, solid like a rock. Abby just smiles at you before making her exit, leaving the two of you there like that in the corridor, overly affection and lovey dovey in a way that the staff are so used to they barely blink as they move past the two of you on the way to do their jobs.

"Hey, baby..." He sighs it out, arms tightening, face slipping down to the crook of your neck even if it hurts his shoulders to hunch over you like that. He's always clingy after a game, pliable and soft, wanting you close whether it's a win or a loss. He's whipped, completely gone for you and he doesn't care who knows it. Doesn't care that he can hear Cooley and Guenther sniggering as they pass by the two of you on the way out of the rink.

"Hey, Mikey, you played really well tonight." You praise him as you snuggle back into him, taking pleasure in the warmth of his body, the cocoon that is his arms.

"Yeah?" You can feel his smile against your neck, nose bumping against your skin, lips pressing a little kiss to the skin there as one of your hands reaches up and back to tangle in his mess of dark curls.

"Mmm, kept telling everyone that number 7 was my boyfriend, don't think they believed me." You laugh as his kisses increase at your praise, ticklish little kisses trailing up your neck and over your cheek as Michael pulls you as close as possible practically squeezing the breath from you.

"You proud of me?"

You turn in his arms to face him, neck craning back to look him in the eyes as your hands cup his cheeks. You brush against the warm skin there, against each scare and mark as he blinks at you slow and placid. You boop his nose lightly with the tip of a finger.

"Always proud of you, baby, my special man." Michael, turns beet red even as he grins at you silly and stupid, eyes loving and soft. You're squeezed tight against him in a way that has you letting out your breath suddenly, an ooph leaving you.

Michael hides his face in your hair because that's better than squeezing you to death as a massive wave of affection runs through him, the sort of cuteness aggression that makes him want to bite you rolling through his body.

Fuck he loves you, arms tightening and refusing to let go.

[onlyquinns]

pair: m. kesselring x reader, fluff

content: you get your wisdom teeth pulled and your boyfriend, michael, is there when you wake up, even though you’re fairly convinced he’s not actually your boyfriend. minor swearing.

you weren’t sure what you were signing up for when you first entered the dental clinic, only knowing of the check up and cleaning you’d scheduled. but weeks later, when you’re laying back in a leather dentist chair, high out of your mind, you regret making the initial appointment. getting your wisdom teeth—all four at the same time—removed was no easy feat.

your head feels heavy, everything in the little room too bright and blinding for your bleary eyes. the smell of fluoride leaves a tang in your dry mouth, your cheeks aching and stuffed with far too much gauze. michael sits next to you, a large palm pressed to his lips to muffle his overjoyed laughter and his phone in his other hand.

“how are you feeling, sweetheart?” a dental assistant asks you, situating your reclined seat back into its upright position with a press of a button. she holds a paper cup filled with cold water in an outstretched hand, blue latex gloves muddled against the garishly colored flower print.

“oh, my god!” you cry out, albeit a little muffled, throwing your arms forward. “it’s going to crush me!” you flail your feet, forgetting that you’re capable of standing and hopping out of the seat on your own. “make it stop, woman!”

michael laughs loudly, chuckle filling the room and causing his phone to shake as it records your outburst. “baby, it’s not going to crush you!” he tells you through wheezy breaths. “see! it stopped!”

you’re wide eyed and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. “who are you?” you ask, throwing up an accusatory finger. “you’re—you’re not my mom! my mom is supposed to be here!” your lip wobbles and michael catches a glimpse of the bloodied gauze in your mouth, “she left me,” you murmur to yourself, dry lips sticking with each word.

“no, no, sweetheart,” the dental assistant says gently, pressing the cup of cold water into your palm. “your mom stepped out for a second, this is michael—remember?”

you turn your head and look at her, jaw slightly slack and breathing heavily through your mouth. “that’s not michael,” you tell her seriously. the lady’s brow furrows just slightly, concerned she might’ve brought in the wrong boy.

“no, baby, i am!” michael interrupts, assuring the lady that he actually is your boyfriend. she gives him a polite smile and leaves the room, her tone soft as she says her goodbyes.

you turn back toward him, brows scrunched together as you scrutinize his appearance. your head gives you straight thoughts, telling you that this actually is michael. “uh… okaaay,” you say, unconvinced even though your brain screams that you’re definitely talking to your boyfriend. “then say something about me, supposed michael.” you say his name in a questioning tone, arms raising to make air quotes.

michael watches you pout in your chair, cheeks rounded like a chipmunk and your eyes narrowed as if you’ve caught him. “okay,” he says, “i know that you’re probably wearing your spongebob boxers right now—the ones you wear for good luck.”

he watches as you quickly pull at the waistband of your sweats and gasp at the sight of your underwear—spongebob boxers like he’d said. your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you let go of your pants with a snap, “if you really loved me you wouldn’t have said that!” you say indignantly, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

michael chuckles at your outburst, standing up when your dentist pokes his head in into your room and gives you the go ahead to leave. “baby, you asked me to prove myself,” he says softly, helping you out of the leather chair and letting you press your entire body into his.

as he walks you through the hallways and into the small waiting room, you’re fully leaning into michael, head tilted up to watch his face as he walks you to his car with a look of determination. your eyes are practically shaped like giant hearts, fingers gripping tightly to his tee that the collar is pulled down to reveal his collarbones and a fading hickey. you think you’re drooling at the sight of him—or because of the cotton gauze in your mouth—your dazed brain isn’t really sure.

the afternoon sunlight casts overs michael’s face in a soft glow as he pulls open the passenger door for you. he doesn’t let you even attempt to get inside on your own in your current state, practically lifting you into his arms and placing you inside the warm vehicle. he leans down and pulls the seatbelt across your lap, buckling you in with a soft click and a kiss to the crown of your head.

“so,” michael says when he settles into the driver side, hands fumbling with his keys before bringing the car to life, “where we going, baby?”

your brain slowly registers his question, mouth agape as you look at him. he laughs at your expression and runs a hand through his hair.

“i dunno,” you finally say with a comical shrug. “anywhere with you.” you give him a crooked and dopey smile, the bloody cotton visible for a split second inside your stuffed cheeks.

michael smiles to himself, head bowed for a quiet moment before he sets his phone up in its stand, the bluetooth already connected and playing your favorite song at a comfortable volume. you give a delayed gasp and sing along with your slurred words. michael looks over at you and his smile widens, cheek warming at the sight of you.

“you’re gorgeous, you know that?” he says gently at a red light and you roll your eyes, hand gesturing vaguely to your bloodied mouth.

“yeah, right!” you say and michael laughs, the sound making you smile—and fuck, you really are gorgeous.

photos from pinterest and michael’s instagram

[bitchinbarzal]

Jealous | M Kesselring

It started with a laugh. Yours.

Michael heard it from across the room—sharp, sweet, unmistakable—and when he turned, you were smiling at some guy he didn’t recognize. Not a threat, not really. But you looked happy. Relaxed. Flushed in a way that made his chest clench.

Then your hand touched the guy’s arm. Just a second too long. Just enough to make Michael’s jaw tighten.

And that was it.

He didn’t cause a scene. Didn’t bark or growl or fight.

He just walked—slow, deliberate—right to your side. Slipped a heavy hand around your waist and leaned down so only you could hear.

“We’re leaving.”

You blinked up at him. “Michael, I—”

His hand tightened. Not painful. But firm.

“Now.”

Something in his voice told you not to argue. You said a quick goodbye and let him lead you out of the room with a hand on your lower back that never lifted.

The second the door to your place shut behind you, the tension snapped.

“You think I didn’t see that?” he asked, voice low. Controlled. Too controlled.

“It wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. “You think I don’t notice the way guys look at you? Like they’d do anything to take you from me?”

You frowned. “Michael, no one could take me from you.”

But he didn’t hear it. Not really.

His eyes were dark, jaw clenched. You reached for him, and that’s when it cracked—he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. Not soft. Not slow. Just desperate.

And then he was moving. Walking you backward, tugging your dress up with rough hands, until your back hit the wall and your legs wrapped around his waist. He didn’t speak. Just breathed hard against your neck as his hands gripped your thighs, holding you there like he needed to feel you.

“I can’t lose you,” he muttered. “You don’t get it—I couldn’t handle it.”

“Michael…” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair.

His forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, voice breaking. “And I’m just… me. I don’t have the charm. Or the flash. I just—fuck, I love you.”

You cupped his face. “I didn’t marry you for flash, Michael.”

His eyes shut. And then he moved.

He pulled your panties aside and slid into you in one long, slow stroke. His breath caught in his throat like it hurt—like finally being inside you was too much.

You gasped, body arching, hands fisting in his shirt. He was thick, deep, stretching you open just right.

“Tell me,” he whispered, still buried in you, not moving yet. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you said instantly. “God, I’ve always been yours.”

He groaned—low and wrecked—and started to move. Not rough, not yet. Just deep. Deep enough that every thrust punched the air from your lungs. He held you tight, hands gripping your ass, mouth open against your throat.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he said. “When I see you smile at someone else, I—I can’t breathe.”

You kissed him. Soft. Slow. The kind of kiss that told him everything he couldn’t believe.

“I love you,” you whispered. “Only you.”

That’s when he lost it.

His rhythm turned hard. His grip bruising. He fucked you like he was burning—like he could crawl inside you and stay there forever. But in between every thrust was a kiss. A whispered I love you. A hand smoothing over your hip or cradling your face like you were made of glass.

And when you came—shaking, sobbing his name—he held you like you might disappear. Followed you seconds later with a groan ripped straight from his chest, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled everything into you.

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move.

Just pressed his forehead to yours, still breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have gotten like that. I just… I get scared sometimes. That I’m not enough for you.”

You kissed him again.

“You’re everything.”

And when he carried you to bed, cleaned you up, curled his big body around you under the sheets—you could feel it. Even in his silence.

The jealousy wasn’t anger.

It was love.

And it was real.

[chaoticallymessy13]

I'm positive forehead kisses from Kess would fix me

[marcandreyuri]

kess!!!!

[firechilde]

Perfection!

[cuteandhughesy]

34 with micheal kesselring please!!

prompt no. 34: "look at that shiner" "have some sympathy"

michael sends you a guilty smile, which only makes you glower more. it’s well passed the time you usually fall asleep—you’ve never been a night owl, and most of the time once your head touches the pillow, you’re out. but tonight you made sure you’d be up when michael gets home.

you watched his game, like you always do, from the comfort of the apartment couch. which means you got a pretty nice view of michael’s fight. it was an even tilt, where your boyfriend got a few good punches—but that also means he got hit a few times too.

the thing that concerned you the most was the black eye blooming under his brow bone, purple hues slowly leaking down to envelop his entire eye socket. you know that the utah hockey club has some of the medical staff, and they’d do anything and everything to make sure michael was okay.

but it still made you anxious, and you needed to check him out yourself—hence why you waited up for him.

untangling the blankets wrapped around your legs, you climb off the couch. you mute sportsnet playing on the tv before making your way across the room—stopping right in front of your boyfriend with a curious glint.

your fingers touch his cheeks gently, gaze never starting from his injury—which has only gotten darker since the last time his face was shown on your tv.

“i’m okay,” michael tells you firmly, hand squeezing the back of your neck before his fingers slowly trickle into your hair—scratching at your scalp.

you stay silent for a beat, too busy checking over his face like you’re waiting for more injuries to pop up. eventually you let out a long, deep breath, gnawing on your bottom lip as you come to terms with michael’s new look. “look at that shiner, babe. jesus christ.”

michael snorts, hand sliding back down to hold the back off your neck. he pulls you into his chest, “have some sympathy. it hurts.”

“no shit,” you mumble, voice muffled by his shirt. “but may I remind you, that this mess on your face is the consequence of your own actions.” you look up at your boyfriend tenderly, a playful smile pulling at your face as your chin rests between his pecks.

michael smirks, “I thought I was going to be greeted by a kisses and cuddles, but instead my girlfriend wants to bully me.”

“whatever you big baby,” you mumble before pushing up onto your toes and gently kissing his lips.

—

(unedited)

[korshrimpski]

[captain-huggy-bear]

When I was in first year of uni my hall's bed was a 7ft mattress and I can say from experience that being 5ft3 and having a mattress that long is the best thing in the world because there is no possible way for your feet to fall off. I could lay in the middle of the bed and have space on both ends. Even if you were 6ft, you'd still have decent space. Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

It's not really something you ever considered. The size of Michael's bed, more specifically the length of it. It made sense to you, of course, that someone as tall as him, 6ft 5 to be exact, would need a long bed, a significantly larger mattress than the average person. You just never really considered that those were in fact a thing. That you would be sleeping in a bad made for someone most definitely not your size.

Until now. Staring at a 7ft long mattress, the largest bed you've probably ever seen. Big enough to accommodate all of Michael, his arms, his legs, and still leave some room. Not like your bed, where his feet hung off the end unless he curled up into a ball.

"Go ahead, angel." He doesn't even wait for you to ask, can see the way you're looking at the bed like you want to jump on it, to see what a bed that large feels like when you're not as large as he is. It's all the permission you need, that and the way he grins at you all goofily.

You take a running jump at his bed, landing face first, arms spread out as you land in the middle....or not so much the middle as landing half on the bed because you don't get much leverage. It's Michael who moves to the side, grabbing your hands and dragging you up the length of the bed until you're in the middle properly.

You turn over onto your back, staring up at his ceiling as you take in just how much room you have.

"Oh wow!" You can't help it, the way you practically try to make a snow angel in the bedding, head not on the pillows and still your feet are far from the end of the bed, fingertips nowhere near touching the edges of the mattress.

There's something amazing about it, just how much space there is, how secure you feel like you could roll over a million times and still not leave the bed.

"Oh, I'm never breaking up with you." You grin up at him, toes curling into his bedding as you snuggle down into the mattress. It's actually adorable the way you burrow down, the way you try to reach the edges of the bed with your finger tips and still fail.

"Because of my mattress?" His goofy smile is almost permanently attached to his lips around you, he can't really help it. The idea that he could be anything but happy in your presence seems so bizarre at this stage in your relationship, the honeymoon period in full effect still.

"Yup!"

"Can't believe you only want me for my bed...guess I'll just have to join you!" Michael all but throws himself onto you, large body squishing you into the mattress, face pressing into the crook of your neck. His weight is heavy, but there's something reassuring about it even as your breathing becomes more shallow.

"Michael! You're heavy! Get off," You protest even as you laugh, even as you smile because you can feel his own goofy grin pressing into the skin of your neck and the way his hands press into your waist.

"Nope, gonna stay right here. I thought you loved my mattress?" Michael lifts his head just enough to talk to you, reaching forward to kiss your chin before plopping back down, cheek against your shoulder. His lips lay kisses across your skin and no matter how much you try to wiggle, to dislodge him, he seems immovable.

"Michael..."

"Shhhh, angel...let me have this?" You're conceding a little almost immediately, melting a little further into the mattress, fingers coming up to comb through his dark curls even as you say you want him to get off you.

He's practically falling asleep with the way your nails scratch at his scalp, down the back of his neck and up again in rhythmic motions, every now and then catching in his curls and carefully detangling them. You've stopped caring so much about his weight on you, sure it's harder to breath, but you feel safe under him like this, in your own little peaceful bubble.

"If we break up do I get the bed?"

"Sure." He's not really listening to you at all, clearly not even aware of what he's agreeing too because your nails against his scalp, fingers running through his hair is his main focus. Because Michael is half-asleep already and if you want his massive bed that's fine, he can always get a new one, but it's also fine because you're never breaking up so win-win either way.

[onlyquinns]

this is just straight smut 🧍🏻im not the best at describing shit and writing porn but i couldn’t help it.. also no pretty pictures for this one because it’s 5:30am and i haven’t gone to bed yet 😔

michael kesselring x fem!reader

your thighs ache, muscles tired of keeping yourself from crushing michael’s head and neck. he holds the backs of your thighs, his rough fingers leaving deep indents in the soft flesh as he attempts to pull your body against his lips despite the way you fight to keep yourself away.

“c’mon, baby,” michael coaxes, his grip unrelenting against your shaky legs. “you’re not going to hurt me, i promise.”

you shake your head, arms quivering from how tightly you’re holding onto the headboard. you’re dressed in one of michael’s old hockey t-shirts, the worn fabric bunched around your hips and his large hands.

at the lack of response, michael blows sharply against your swollen clit, listening to you loudly squeal at the sensation. your slick heat flutters and michael pulls you toward him even more, his hold on your body stronger than before. your grip weakens just enough that he’s able to press you against his waiting mouth, tongue immediately getting to work.

a sharp gasp leaves your lips as you press your hips upward just a bit. michael groans underneath you, his tongue working you open and spreading your wetness over his lips and dripping onto his chin. he presses his tongue into you over and over relentlessly, savoring the way you clench and squeeze around it when he licks into you. you’re so warm and tight around him, spurring him along even further.

you moan loudly and involuntarily grind your hips into his face even more. “fuck,” you whimper, hands dropping from the wooden headboard to tangle into michael’s brown hair.

he looks up at you through thick lashes, pupils blown wide at the sight of your blissed out face and shuddering body. he feels you try to lift up off of him and his grip shifts, fingers leaving your thighs to instead press into the small of your back and anchor you back down against him with his strong arms. another small gasp leaves your lips and his cock twitches at the breathiness of it, hips stuttering in the air to find friction.

the sudden press of his hands against your back sends your hips canting upward, your clit bumping into the tip of his nose. a needy sound escapes your lips and you press harder into his nose, rolling your hips upward repeatedly, forgetting about wanting to pull back, forgetting that he might need air—and thank god. michael’s hips buck up at the sounds that escapes your lips, his hard cock straining in his gray sweats and leaving a patch of messy precum on the front of them. he feels like he’s on fucking cloud nine and you haven’t even touched him.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you, feeling the way you flutter and clench above his lips. “take what you need. ‘m all yours.” you whimper and whine as you ride his face, the little bundle of nerves knocking into his nose in a mouth watering way, leaving every part of you alight with something akin to fire.

you chance a look down at michael and the sight of him—swollen lips and your wetness coating his cheeks and chin—makes you suddenly come undone with a soft gasp of his name. your back arches against the cool headboard, one hand coming up to stabilize yourself and the other wrapped tightly in michael’s hair, nails lightly scraping at his scalp. he groans—the sound deep and reverberating through you—and continues to tongue fuck you through your orgasm, lapping up everything you have to give him, only stopping when you whimper out a soft, “too much.”

your body collapses next to michael’s, limbs achy and body wholly spent. your lashes flutter slowly as you look up at his face, a smug grin pulling at his lips. he brings a hand up to his face and wipes at his face with the back of it, exaggeratedly licking his lips. he pulls you against his bare chest, careful to keep your bare legs away from the messy wet stain on his sweats from where he clearly came in his pants. your face burns at the realization and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, unsure why you’re so embarrassed.

michael laughs softly, lips brushing the side of your head. “couldn’t help it,” he says, voice hoarse and so gravelly that you can’t help the way your body shivers at the sound of it. “you’re jus’ too good for me, baby, always giving me what i want.”

you let out a playful whine and smack at his chest and shoulder, basking in the way michael laughs and giggles at your antics. you pull your face away from his neck and look at his face, his cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink.

“could think of some other stuff you might want,” you murmur boldly, fingers curling through his hair and tugging at the nape. your other hand slithers down his taut chest, stopping just briefly to toy with the wait and of his stained sweats.

michael breathes out a laugh, left arm coming up to drape over his eyes, arrow tattoo on full display. “yeah?” he breathes, a small crooked smirk pulling at his lips. “like i said, jus’ too good for me.”

you giggle at his words, hand pressing into his sweats and boxers, fingers sticky with his cum and brushing against his already hardening length. you thumb over the messy tip, rubbing soft circles against it.

“yeah?” you tease, your voice so silky and so breathy that the sound of it alone has michael groaning.

“oh, yeah.”