#he's so fucking loud...

[themirrormarches]

I GOT MY SPAMTON PLUSHIE HOLY SHIT

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

They live in my head rent free. Drop your headcanons in the reblogg tags

[watchyourbuck]

*Eddie crashing the Bucktommy date*

Eddie: *spotting them* Tommy!

Tommy: Hey!!

Eddie immediately:

BUCK!

[astrobolical]

Okay.

As much as I love feral Satan, who lets his instincts run wild and growls, bites and everything else… his soft side is so fuckin’ cute.

The Satan that stares at you in confusion as you tend to a small cut on his hand he’d received on one of his rampages, unbothered by the mess around the two of you and concerned solely with him. How he doesn’t quite know why his chest feels so warm and tight as he looks at your gentle, concerned expression.

Satan, who doesn’t understand why he feels so weightless with you, why his heart flutters and why he wants to hold you so gently, as if cradling something precious.

Satan, whose anger fades just from your presence alone, overtaken with feelings he’s never experienced, that baffle him entirely but he can’t get enough.

Satan, who desperately throws himself into research just to understand you a little more, to put a name on how he feels about you— who’s just as afraid of his own feelings as he is elated by them.

Satan, who worries you’ll be frightened of him if his temper rises, but you never are, even when he tells you that you should be.

Satan, who lays beside you, watching your sleeping face and utterly baffled that you trust him so completely to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state… who knows deep down he’ll protect you forever.

Satan, who fumbles each time he tries to explain any of this to you, whose face becomes adorably reddened with each failed attempt.

Satan, who realizes that you’ve accepted him entirely, his every fault, his everything, before he had even come close to accepting himself. Who loves you more than he could ever put to words, or that he could ever really comprehend.

Just him. You know? Ahh, just helping him come to terms with everything he doesn’t know, to grow and understand. Helping him, in the end, to love.

[super-nova5045]

overall the fnaf movie was a 10/10 experience! josh hutcherson should be in more movies where he can whimper

[waitineedaname]

thinking about six balls again (when he was born he weighed six balls)

[arthursfuckinghat]

I'm at that part of chapter three my friends, so let me be a reminder that Colm O'Driscoll's plan to lure in Dutch after taking Arthur failed because nobody came looking for him.

He would have died being held captive any longer, he barely escaped.

The gang did not come for Arthur.

[stillw4t3r]

ik everyone is in mourning because of episode 6 right now but can we just appreciate how batshit this season was?? the entire time i was asking myself how it was real. the magic show with the bullet?? the nazi zombies?? the laudanum scene?? the entire ball sequence?? the entire rob sequence?? ineffable bureaucracy becoming fucking canon???? how is season 2 real

[kisses4kaia]

brothers best friend billy bc i am self-indulgent ☺️ very poorly proofread😴 edit; here’s another installment of this au <3

william h. bonney is a gentleman.

he is a gentleman, but fuck, if you whisper another word into his ear, warm breath fanning over the cusp, he’s not above bending you over the poker table and fucking you in front of everyone, including your brother.

and billy knows, he knows you’re trying to rile him up, knows you’re just trying to get a ride rise out of him, but did you really have to hit him where it hurts? you’d learnt not too long ago that billy is quite sensitive on his ears—when you nibbed him on his earlobe while he was balls deep inside your tight cunt and he came on the spot—and if you didn’t take advantage of that from time to time, you reasoned, it would be an injustice, truly.

“oh billy, don’t you know fucking your best friends little sister is wrong? how long has this been going on—2 months, huh? hmm, you ever gonna tell jesse? oh, no. he would kill you if he found out, wouldn’t he? and you’re still taking that risk for me; how romantic of you, billy,” your voice is a tantalizing taunt, and it’s winding him up, so much so that he has to take a swig of his whiskey to cover up the flush spreading on his cheeks.

your whispers are received from billy with a shudder, whom you’re standing behind while he sits at the poker table. nobody really even notices you talking to him, not even jesse. he’s focused on winning, as is billy, but you just make it so much damn harder for your lover.

the game is on its last play and it’s gotten quite intense. “reveal your hands,” the dealer commands and jesse lays down his cards before billy shows him up completely, 4 aces over jesse’s straight.

the sportsmanship is friendly even after billy gathers the whole pot for himself and jesse goes to catch a drink at the bar, giving billy the perfect opportunity to figure out what the fuck your little show was about.

his large hand is wrapped around your—by comparison, small—wrist, and he’s dragging you outside the saloon, all the way to his house just down the block.

when the door slams shut, billy’s lips are on yours faster than you can blink.

he has this way about his kisses—they’re always needy, but not all-dominating. he doesn’t want to own you, you can see it is his eyes, the eyes that are so much softer than lil the other men you’ve come across, who look at you like a piece of meat. he kisses you with a certain passion, a fire that you haven’t been able to find with anybody else, and it ignites something bubbly inside you. he’s feverish, and you reciprocate his urgency, fingers hooking into his two front belt loops, pulling him closer to where you need him the most.

“fuck, pretty. really tryna rile me up, huh? fuck was that, back at the game?” his lust-blown pupils do nothing to hide the fact that you won. you got just what you wanted, so with a giggle you respond, voice teasing. “i just wanted to see how gentlemanly you could stay before you would eventually break—i knew you would break,”

billy scoffs and rolls his eyes, before placing his lips on yours, more gently this time, and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you to his bedroom that you’ve grown oh, so, familiar with.

he surprises you when rather than laying you down on your back unto the bed, he sits down himself, begins unbuttoning your linen button-down and unbuttoning the boot-cut denim jeans that hugged your ass so fucking well, before pulling all of it off of your limbs and helping you pull his own trousers down.

with gentle maneuvering, billy eases you onto his hard, awaiting cock. a soft gasp leaves you, and a deep groan from billy reverberates throughout the room. “this is what you wanted? to sit on my dick, make your pretty, little pussy cum? yeah? go on, use me. ride my cock, hm? you own it, it’s yours,” his breathy words only speed up your pulsing around his dick, and pull a aroused moan from your throat.

he sounded so honest, so real. it was times like these, with him underneath you, coming more and more undone by the second, that felt the most raw. it was times like these, when his hands where welded onto your hips, surely leaving bruises, that you realized, you didn’t want this with anybody else, ever. you never wanted to leave his loving embrace, and it’s with that epiphany you speak.

“fuck, billy, i love you. i love you so fucking much, oh my god, fuck!”

his hips falter slightly at the sentence, but almost like a serendipitous parallel, billy cums with a loud moan right along with you, orgasms perfectly in time with one another.

and as he comes down from his high, riding you through your own, his response to your confession is uttered—in hushed tones, in fear that if he dare raises his voice, dare speak freely, dare open his arms, you may disappear, like sand through his calloused fingers.

“i love you, too, angel. i think… i think want forever with you.”

[agir1ukn0w]

love how what made me hate snow in the original thg trilogy was all the atrocities, but what made me hate him in tbosas was the fact that he doesn't get poetry and hates ghost stories, like what a fucking philistine

[kazanskyy]

iceman + his concern for maverick post-hop 31

[watchyourbuck]

yes buddie marriage yes buddie endgame but you know which fucking fanon hd I will never move on from? buddie fucking in 2x01 right after their pissing match and being unable to keep their hands off each other bc they want each other so badly and it’s messy and nasty and disgusting and so fast GOD

[fujii-draws]

THEYRE SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIMMM

[mayxo-hxh]

Illumi using blunt sarcasm is my favorite genre in all of hxh

the anime sucks ass for cutting these out

[mcybree]

Sorry if im inconsolable for the next week I was given a crushing realization about dl!scott and pearl and im never going to be the same again. and the universe said cry bitch mental anguish for eternity

[introspectivememories]

sorry but do you ever think about the fact that the bernard we have today is a direct amalgamation of everything that happened in his past and i know that sound like such an obvious statement to say but it actually kills me to know that you can draw a direct line from who he is today all the way back to that sixteen year old boy who watched his best friend bleed out. like it is the defining moment in his life. it fundamentally shaped who he is and the person he's become. he is the bernard we know and love not despite the grieves shooting but because of it. because the gangs all got together and shot up his school. because tim walked out of that room with nothing but a baseball bat. because his darla got shot. because he watched her gasp and cry as she died. because he watched the blood coagulate around the wound. because he sat there and held her hand as her life drained out of her. because he walked into school that day with a joke he knew would make her laugh and her nose would scrunch up and she'd snort a little and tim would roll his eyes at him and call him ridiculous and instead he walked out with a bloody white shirt, blood under his fingernails, and two friends less. because, even now, almost half a decade out from the shooting, he thinks that if he closes his eyes, he will always be that stupid, scared little sixteen year old, holding the cooling body of dead best friend.