#i love that man endlessly

[halojalex]

alex's dedication onstage is honestly unmatched like the dude could be on his deathbed and would still insist on finishing a show

[nyanbinary-87]

PRINCESS TUTU ASPEC WEEK: QUEERPLATONIC & BONDS.

i think they should be weirder and more fucked up abt each other. feat a simpsons quote. what they have isnt romantic they have something much more sinister going on etc etc (its The Narrative)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’m obsessed with the idea of cult leader!geto pining for a reader who just fucking hates him ….... maybe it’s someone from his past that he left behind when he defected, maybe they’re bitter and spiteful and all they do is hiss and bite but he’s so smitten. you can do no wrong in his eyes. he deserves the curses and anger, he knows, and he receives them with a smile and eyes full of hearts. he gets giddy when you scowl at him. he just thinks you’re love personified. he’s so gentle and patient that it’s infuriating because nothing you do or say will get him to bite back — it’s like you’re a kitten gnawing at his fist but he does nothing but coo at you even when you draw blood

[rosekillerbf]

sirius has a mixtape with “Sirius’ cool hardcore punk-rock” written on it, with a black skull drawn next to the title in Sharpie

There is not a single hardcore punk-rock song on that tape, it’s all songs that remind him of Remus. From Remus’ favourite songs, to love songs that make him think of Remus, to the song he thinks should be their first dance. It’s sappy and adorable and Sirius thinks he’s being all cool and mysterious but Remus is absolutely aware of it

[justablah56]

you guys I love them so much they're so silly to me

silly stupid boyfriends of all time btw

[fireintheimpala]

1979 is now up there with 1968 in my “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED BETWEEN PAUL MCCARTNEY AND JOHN LENNON” years.

You don’t just make something as joyful, teasing, naughty, and romantic as McCartney II out of the blue… You don’t just then come out of retirement out of the blue and starting boogying to Double Fantasy + Milk and Honey tracks COINCIDENTALLY, do you? DO YOU??

This is driving me a little crazy. What is your favorite conspiracy theory here?

[roychewtoy]

[wheresdylansoscar]

LOOK AT HOW HAPPY HE IS. RUNNING THAT MF BALL. GOD I LOVE HIM.

[whiskeynwriting]

With You Again

König x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Established relationship, mentions/descriptions of war, brief mention of guns, references to male and female masturbation, praise kink, size kink, dry humping, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, dom!König

◆

A/N: thank you to @phnyx for helping me round out the edges of this piece <3 and thank you TONS to @xsvenjasophiex for helping me with the German vocab and grammar. I appreciate you endlessly!! 

I have been so THIRSTY for this man lately y'all, Jesus. Brb, thinking about him speaking German to me

◆

König Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

The mud sticks to his face like thick glue, his body caked in the dirt as he trudges on through. And the relief he seeks is nowhere in sight, not even when he retreats to the trench. He has to duck, to bend at the knees until he’s in the safety of his designated bunker, his team’s barracks. He feels no reprieve, not even when sitting on the wooden bench. The body he’s worked for years to build is exhausted, forced to its limit. And yet, he must go on. Not only for the others, for he is the one they rely so much on, but for you. 

And that’s when he glances down at his rifle, resting on the mass of his thigh. His chest is still heaving, heartbeat evening out when he sees it - the picture of you. It’s of course torn and covered in dirt but he wipes it off often enough to still see it. Your sickeningly sweet grin, your gorgeous face, the way you’re laying. 

“Meine Welt.” It’s quiet, said through a tired breath. And even though his lids are fluttering, desperate for rest, he focuses on you. You keep him awake, alert, you remind him of what he’s fighting for. (My world) 

Out in the field, he looks to you often. And when he has time to rest, he’ll take off his helmet, looking into the inner rim. The same picture of you graces his desperate orbs, delivering him an ounce of peace. This photo doesn’t get torn as often as the one on his gun, and still, it’s not the cleanest copy he has. While he keeps two with him at all times, he keeps the third and most pristine one hidden away. 

When he’s clean enough to lie down, stripping himself of his khakis and weapons, he’ll lay his body over the cot he’s been given. But before he allows himself his much needed sleep, he’ll reach under his pillow, searching for that exact same scene. The one he captured on a Sunday morning, the view of you in his bed. Your shared bed. 

“Smile, Schatz.” He’d grinned, holding the polaroid camera over you. (Sweetheart)

It was early enough for you to still be waking up, your hair a complete mess with the blankets crumpled around the bed. But he thought it was adorable, the sight of you. The morning sun shone around your sleepy form in the most elegant of ways, even though all you had on was his oversized shirt. You smirked up at your enormous lover, offering a flirty grin. And the longer he looked at it, the more he saw your nipples rising beneath the fabric of his shirt, the hem of your panties peeking out along your thigh. This photograph was all he needed. When he couldn’t calm his mind, this is what he turned to. And when his arousal ran high, it offered him release. 

What you’ll find in his innermost parts, is emotion, emotion that ran wild like the river and raged like the sea. He longed for you, in the purest of ways. His devotion to your well-being was unlike anything he’s ever experienced. And daily was the occurrence of his words floating across a secret page.

I miss you, every day. And every day only serves to prove that I am living my life away from you. 

It tore him to pieces, being gone for so long. He wonders about how lonely you must feel, going about your day-to-day activities with no one but yourself. How big the house must feel, with only you in it. But when he’s home, he fills it completely. Not just with his physicality but with his emotional presence. 

“König,” You practically sob into his shoulder, holding onto him. The way your hearts pound for each other, the way your body releases all its tension when you’ve been reunited, are two sensations you positively yearn for. 

“Mein Mädchen,” He coos, repeatedly rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m home.” (My girl)

It’s the pose you always fall into, your signature snuggle - him on the couch with his legs spread, and you cuddled onto his lap. You’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck while you press your covered front to his. 

“How have you been?” He asks gently, his voice soft. And when you lift your head, he cups your face, thumb sweeping over your skin. “Ich mache mir Sorgen um dich.” (I worry about you)

“Why?” Brow furrowing, you tilt your head, resting in his large palm. 

“You are meine Welt, my everything.” He explains, his eyes full of emotion as he says it. “You are my peace, and thinking of you alone in this house brings me pain.” With a heavy sigh, he brushes his thumb over your cheek once again. “And I have enough pain.” (My world)

Cuddling into you, he releases another breath, feeling you cradle his head against your chest. “I am just fine, mein Liebling.” The softness of your hand runs down the back of his head, still covered. “And even better now that you’re back.” (My darling) 

You’re everything he could ever need. With you, his woes from war are gone. With you, he feels human again. 

With the amount of ease you put him in, it’s not long before you’re lifting that hood, putting your lips on him. Usually, it would be alarming, someone lifting his mask. But for you, he’d do anything. And yet, you still haven’t seen him without it. You respect him too much to do that. 

His lips find yours again and again, searching for the love they’ve been neglected. It’s sloppy, lazy, the two of you taking time to just enjoy it. Your tongues slide along the other’s in a rhythm only the two of you know, the actions entirely unhurried. Neither of you are rushing this - you’re finally receiving the time you’ve been missing. 

“Baby,” As soon as he does it, you’re pressing against him, against the firmness of his chest and abdomen. He knows how much you love his body heat, forgoing his shirt quite quickly.

Shifting your hips over his, he groans, searching for your mouth again. You’re partially under that dark hood, devouring the moans coming from his lips. And then you’re dragging yourself over him, repeatedly grinding down onto his steadily rising erection. Easily, those incredibly large hands find your hips, guiding your movements and urging you to apply more pressure, to move a little faster. 

“Your beautiful body… it already feels so good against me…” His accent is thick, hungry. 

“I love how you sound,” You breathe out in return, sighing. “When you whimper…”

One muscular arm wraps around your lower back, sneaking beneath your shirt so he can feel your skin. He can’t help the noises he makes, he’s unable to keep himself at bay whenever he’s with you. You’re all that’s been in his head for weeks on end. 

“So needy,” He grunts out, thrusting upward between your legs. “As soon as you see me…” Ducking his head down, he finds your neck, holding onto your waist while you rub yourself over him. And his words prompt a certain heat to run up your neck and to your cheeks, filled with a sense of aroused embarrassment from his teasing. 

Turning your head, you try to hide your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. But he sees, and he doesn’t like it. 

“No, don’t hide from me. Don’t hide that pretty face - mein Gott, so fucking cute. I want to see that look when I touch you.” (My god)

“König,” Another whine, fingers clinging to him. He’s throbbing between your legs, constantly rubbing himself up against you. 

“Look at me, pretty thing.” He demands, though his words are spoken softly, passionately. And he says it so sweetly that you almost can’t disobey him. “There you go,” Comes that genuine praise, his voice growing breathy and ragged. “Good girl.”

Lifting his hand to the back of your neck, he stares into your eyes, flicking back and forth between them. Shaking his head gently, he breathes out in awe, “Beautiful thing.” 

It’s easy to enjoy it, the taste of his mouth and natural scent, the overall sensation of him. And while he finds incredible pleasure in the feeling of you grinding against him, your gorgeous mouth meeting with his, he wants more. 

“I need to feel you.” König whines against your lips. 

Carrying you with him is easy, you don’t even have to move. All he does is stand, holding onto your thighs while you hold onto him. And in a half a dozen strides, you’re in the bedroom, being laid down by your love. 

Even quicker than you, he removes your clothing, immediately laying himself out between your thighs to hover above your body. Your surroundings are barely lit, but he doesn’t need much to see the beauty of you. He traces your body with his hands, the curves more familiar to him than his own breath. And immediately, he’s finding your chest, massaging the softness of your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth. 

“I’ve missed these…” He mumbles over you, hot breath soaking into your skin.

His tongue slides effortlessly across your body, humming happily when your legs lift to the sides of his torso. Already, you’re grinding up against him, wanting that same friction you’d made on the couch. 

“My small doll,” König grins, sliding the bulk of his body down your stomach, crawling between your thighs and settling above your center. 

Calloused palms and worn fingers caress your thighs in the gentlest ways he knows how. You’re so soft, so tiny and delicate. He treats you like glass, like if he moved you wrong, you’d break. But he’d never break you. 

“I’ve dreamt of this… of licking you again. Süße, I’d do it for the rest of my life.” He’s mumbling just above your sex, the words barely having time to come out before he’s attaching his mouth to you. (Sweetheart)

Immediately, your back arches for him, nails digging into the muscles beneath his skin, clawing at his shoulders. He’s sucking your lips into his mouth, slurping on the wetness he’s already coaxed out of you. Pushing his tongue inside, he licks into you deeply, moaning when you suffocate him with your thighs. 

“Baby, baby.” Gasping, you shove your hips up against him, feeling the familiar flick of his tongue over the quivering peak of your sex. 

But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speed up or slow down, he just continues. His eyes roll back from it, from the way your hips shift against him and the way you taste. 

“Entspann dich, meine Engel.” He’s gasping, staring down at your glistening lips. “Let go for me…” And then he’s burying himself into you again, stuffing his tongue into your center while his nose rubs against your clit. (Calm yourself, my angel)

He can see the way your chest heaves, can hear the way your lungs tremble when you breathe. And he wants to feel it, god, he wants to taste it. 

“König,” And then he’s moaning into you, feeling it rush onto his tongue.

His taste buds tingle with it, your release, repeatedly lapping at your sensitive center. Your thighs shake from it, jerking against his head while he holds you, strong hands keeping you in place for him. 

“Perfect,” That deep voice groans, kissing your lower stomach. “Perfect…”

Lifting himself, you witness his biceps flex, the muscles in his chest tensing as his face returns to the smooth slope of your shoulder. You welcome him in, arms looping around his neck before he lifts his head, wet lips and chin pressing into your cheek as he says, “Doing just what I ask of you.” And then a sloppy kiss pressing into your skin, your cheeks plumping from his praise. 

“Are you ready for me?” But he’s already grabbing himself, the tip of his dick kissing your clit before he rubs it over your wetness. “My, my… how wet you are… can you hear it, Süße?” He’s pressing his nose into your cheek, grinning. (Sweetheart)

“Mhm,” It’s forced out from your throat, a mewl, followed by a forceful gasp. 

He’s pushing into you, the intrusion of him thicker than you remember. The searing heat from his skin spreads throughout your body, his chest pressing down into your own as he explores deeper. 

“Deep breaths, my love.” Yet he’s struggling to steady his own. “That’s it, keep your eyes on me.” And this makes him so happy. “That’s so good, Liebling, precious thing…” (Darling)

Staring into his eyes, you wince, jaw dropping as he delves inside. It’s slow, gradual, because he knows if he goes any faster, this will be too quick of an endeavor. 

Dipping his head down, he sighs out in awe. “Look at that, look how you open up for me. Oh, Süße, I’ve been dreaming of it since I left.” (Sweetheart)

“I’ve missed you, meine Kriegerin.” And that phrase forces a shiver through him. (My warrior)

“Oh, you were meant for it.” He grunts, finally thrusting into you with a desperate huff. “Meant to take me, to feel me deep inside… stretching you to fit. That’s it, keep breathing for me…”

But still, he’s not moving fast enough for you. It’s so slow that it’s agonizing, feeling the lazy drag of his veins against your walls, still sensitive from your first high. And it brings him great pride in knowing he gave you that gift so quickly. He’s hoping to give it to you again. 

Feeling timid, you turn your head, hiding your face in the sheets. “P-Please.” But he just grins, coming down to grab your jaw, pulling your face back toward him. 

“My cute little doll…” Your soldier muses, voice deep, sultry. “Say it again.” He’s addicted to it, addicted to the sounds you make when you’re taking it deep just the way he likes it. 

His stare is possessive, dominant, insistent. And you give in. “Please.”

Just like that, he’s snapping his hips into your pelvis, and with every ounce of strength he has. It almost paralyzes you, the overstimulation of it all. His tongue on your neck, his body pressing you into the bed, his tip punching against your cervix. 

Sliding his hand forward, König’s fingers intertwine with your own. He drags it up along the bed, holding it above your head. The groans coming from his chest rumble across your own, your head thrown back as you experience him. Jesus, you’ve missed this, you’ve prayed for this, to be in his arms again. Naturally, you cling to him, holding him as if he’ll never leave again. And you wish it was the truth. 

“L-Liebling,” König grunts, feeling your nails dig into his back. He’s buried himself inside you, all the way to the hilt. “You’re squeezing around me so, so tightly.” His accent is thick, eyes closed as he attempts to even out his breaths. (Darling)

“I want it again.” Groaning, he shoves himself into you again, listening to the wet squelch of it. “Let me feel it, sweetling.” 

“Please, make me. Make me, baby.” 

Tilting your hips upward, you meet his thrusts. You’re squeezing his hand, feeling comforted by both his palm and the presence of his face in your neck. His muscular thighs flex against your legs, chest heaving above you as he feels you tremble. And the act of you clutching his hand, the sensation of you quivering around him, is making him lose his goddamn mind. 

Your soft sobs provoke a small growl from his lips, his pelvis snapping against your sex. He’s throbbing inside you, scrotum drawing up tightly to his body as he begs for your release. 

“König,” You wail, only to be met with, “Take it.” 

What started out as innocently sweet has turned into ardent arousal, your body being ravaged by this hulk of a man. You’re his to claim, his to lay and spend every day with. And when he’s done wringing your body dry of pleasure, he’ll be there to coddle you, too. 

Your body reacts so openly to him, whether or not he’s actively touching you. It’s all too easy for you to welcome him, your limbs wrapping around every inch of his body. The mere thought of your lover was enough to make your hands wander, your thoughts running wild in your head. Inhaling a sharp breath, you sigh, sliding your hand between your legs as you think of him. 

But the sharp shrill of your phone shocks you back to reality, eyes blowing wide as your head snaps to the side. Immediately, you reach for it, heart lighting up with affection when you see who it is. 

“König?” Your voice is eager, wanting. 

“Meine Engel,” Comes that rough, sweet voice. “I am on my way.” (My angel)

Inside, your chest swells with emotion, head lolling back as you release a satisfied sigh. And on the other end of the phone, he hears you sniffle, smiling sincerely beneath the cover of his hood.

“I know, sweetling.” He coos, picturing your pretty face. “I’ll be there, I’ll be with you again soon.” 

[spiderman2-99]

Where should you be kissed?

Knuckles. it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own... and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.

[stolen from templeofvengeance; tagging you]

[sarellathesphinx]

Sometimes I take a step back and think about like the very concept of Reeve Tuesti and Cait Sith and I’m like. Nomura I know you said Cait and Barret were characters you desperately wanted to use. How the fuck did you come up with Cait and Reeve specifically. How

[shorthaltsjester]

every bells hells interaction with keyleth being a bullying (affectionate) interrogation — usually about things they have already interrogated her about — versus their interactions with vex being like 3 of the hells at any given time Will be distracted by her hotness and the rest will be just going yes ma’am whatever you say . extremely extremely real of them . i have to imagine after every interaction keyleth is like WHY do they keep doing this to me and vex is like idk darling maybe your vibes are just off

but also i just need them to carry some of the our old pcs are bugs were poking under a microscope energy to vex i need to know what her takes on vaxorb and the gods are right now . do i think vex is as likely to be open with bells hells as keyleth is? doubtful. but i still want them to try

[wildsaltair]

y’all don’t understand I need to BITE his ribcage

[linpunny]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HANDSOME HUSBAND AND BABY FATHER LOVE OF MY LIFE AND OWNER OF MY HEART, SOUL, MIND AND BODY TAIJU SHIBA

[darling-stardust]

I'm writing a one-shot for Kelsey and Trudy rn and I had a thought, so I am putting my peachyville prediction out there now.

I want to trust Tucker. Really, I do, but I can't. I think he is with the group of people behind terrorizing the town, and before it even became what we know of the Peachyville Horror, human Trudy knew. It's what he does in the basement and when she needs to leave the house in the middle of the day.

And because she knew, Tucker got scared and either killed her, made a story that she went "upstate" or something, created robot Trudy to disguise his action to not raise suspicion, and is hiding this until the last minute

OR.

Trudy was not killed but was said to have "gone away", Tucker was working on a robot Trudy the whole time to not raise suspicion, and she is somewhere being held captive as a future sacrifice to further the horrors and leave robot trudy to still fulfill her wifely and motherly duties while she is gone, but she isn't perfect enough yet to make the lie possible and that is why the robot Trudys keep getting dumped.

Okay, thoughts???

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Happy Chan Day!

Happy Birthday, Bang Chan! I wish I could tell you to your face how goddamn inspiring I find you. Your kindness, intelligence, resiliency, leadership, and creative powers astound me. We’re blessed to have you on the planet with us. Thank you, Christopher, for your beautiful work. Can’t wait to see what’s next.

Get prints here