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#in the way that he breathes him in
captain-flint · 8 months
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Crowley literally fighting for his life here looking like he's about to throw up and pass out trying to 'hold that thought'
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softestaries · 3 months
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Sally at the beginning of the episode patiently trying to coax Percy away from the pool edge so she can teach him how to swim VS Poseidon throwing Percy in the deep end and sending his secretary to inform him that he can in fact breathe underwater.
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phoenxwright · 2 months
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heated gaming moments at Mordhaus
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tsuchinokoroyale · 3 months
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Happy new years… let’s stay hydrated together ✨
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#I didn’t end up going to the rave just stayed in with my buddies and had KFC (( Korean fried chicken )) and laughed til we cried so#it was still a wonderful start to the new year 💞🥰💞#but the fwb wanted pics of my potential rave look so I figured eh I brought the stuff anyways#and now I’m imagining locking eyes with a stranger on the warm and writhing dance floor#the beat thumps and shakes and rattles the air in our breath as the spotlights dance in the reflections of our held gaze#he pushes his way through the crowd with a singular stare and a wicked smile on his face#I smile and turn my back on him arching myself so he knows I am giving what he’s looking for#I take careful steps through the revelry toward the edge where the crowd thins out#I prop myself up on an available stool in a lonely corner of the club as he closes the distance between us#“now I wonder why you dragged me all the way here” he utters in a playful growl “trying to get far away from the crowd?”#I smile and I nod. “obviously. can’t really do what I want with you out there”#his eyes perk up and his smile gives away the desire building inside him. “yeah? why don’t you show me then.”#“I thought you’d never ask” I smirk. I reach down into my pants and pull out my phone#“so this one is blue. he’s the oldest but he’s sooooo sweet. and that’s Eva. my only girl she’s sassy but she loves swea-” he leaves#whaddahell I say demurely whimpering even… whaddahell…#gpoy
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abyssruler · 3 months
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husband and our three children
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comfortless · 5 days
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would König ever agree to be a sugar baby? 🤔 most people write him as the rich one in the relationship so I'm curious if the dynamic can be reversed
you’re calling to my weakness of König being taken care of for once here…!! cue König being the absolute worst sugar baby that has ever existed (lovebombing!). implied age gap (König is maybe 24-26 here, reader is anything above), porn mention, masturbation, slightly suggestive but mostly fluff. minors do not interact.
Begrudgingly, a younger König probably would.
He isn’t sure how these relationships even work. There’s plenty of money in his bank accounts, he’s got a decent enough apartment, a car, (some) clothes that aren’t riddled with holes or tears... Hell, there isn’t even really anything that he wants. His curiosity only begins to spike the second his thumb stops its scrolling, lands on a picture of her, and his world comes to a grinding halt.
The woman in the photo is the most gorgeous, sweet creature he has ever lain eyes upon. Just the image of her smiling softly at the camera, her hands placed in her lap whilst she’s seated on a couch is enough to send his heart hammering. She doesn’t look the part of some vapid, cruel thing he had anticipated on a site like this. No, the woman only looks gentle, her eyes are even a little sad… She's all alone, her bed is cold, and König is already hard at the thought of how this could go if he had just a little luck in his corner.
He makes the decision to message her without thinking. It’s late, she probably wouldn’t even see it until morning, and he doubts a woman this cute would want to bother with him anyway.
A polite, articulate: hey do you wanna fuck
Followed by: you don’t even have to pay me XD
He settles for pulling up some porn video with the faces just out of frame, jacks off to the hypothetical of it being she and him one day and falls asleep with his phone on his chest and come stains in his boxers.
There’s nothing about him that’s deserving of this woman’s time nor her response, but he wakes to the chiming of his phone and a sweet message from her anyway. One in which she asks him if he would like to meet for drinks so that they can talk, she clarifies that she will pay, and even tells him that she thinks he’s handsome.
Handsome. Something only his oma had called him when she patted him on the cheek as a boy.
His response is insistent, demanding almost, when he suggests that she come to him, meet immediately that same day. Who cares if it’s only afternoon by the time she arrives, he could go for a beer and a sweet, tight pussy at any hour, doesn’t hold himself back from telling her this either while he grins at his phone like he’s possessed - all teeth and wild eyes.
There’s a part of him that believes this woman will be scared off, stand him up entirely and block his account, but to his surprise, she does actually show up. She’s there before even he arrives, seated in a booth at the back of the bar with his order and her own placed neatly on the table in front of her.
His chest feels too tight when he places himself across from her, all cockiness diminished in light of something he hasn’t felt since he was two feet shorter and more than a decade younger.
He’s fucking petrified.
His to-be-sugar-mommy eases him with her softspoken voice, going over the less than rigid terms of their agreement and praising his looks as well as his ability to handle his alcohol.
She isn’t asking for sex, just someone to care for. She tells him that he’s beautiful, while he feels like a smear on the pavement in comparison to her. And fuck. He isn’t handling his alcohol well at all, he’s just nervous and needs to keep his hands and his mouth busy, because all he wants to do is bend this adorable woman who compares his ugly face to that of an archangel’s over this table and fuck her like a stallion, spit such filth into her hair that no amount of repentance could ever make her feel clean again.
He can’t. He can’t when she suggests in that same cooing voice that she take him shopping for boots that are less scuffed, offers her hand to him as though it’s natural for a lady so ethereal to tether herself to a beast. Her hand is so dainty and cold, whereas he feels like a boiler on the cusp of bursting the second their fingers slot between one another.
His head is a mess of thoughts, memories of being dragged by the collar to attend services with his oma where he never prayed. Shit, maybe he should start, because surely he has someone or something to thank for this, for her.
Their first date becomes the strangest ordeal of his life as she seats him on a bench and helps him to try on boots as though he were only a boy who didn’t yet know how to tie his laces. She even kneels before him and ties them up herself before placing his foot back on the store’s floor; doesn’t even comment on the obvious hole in his sock or the awkward, longing way that he’s staring at her, only presses her chin to his knee and smiles up at him with so much affection he thinks he might actually pass out for a moment. She buys the ones he likes, three pairs of them, and doesn’t even bat an eye at the price.
That’s when he decides it’s all too much: he tells her that he can buy his own stuff, that he doesn’t need her to do it or tie his shoelaces or anything because he’s a man, after all. He should be showering her in flowers and soft dresses, paying for her nails and hair dye.
His lady only laughs and asks if he wants to come home with her, he doesn’t have to stay, just sit with her for a bit. So… he follows her home like a sulking shadow, hovering just behind her lost entirely in his head. He had barked at her like a rabid dog and she still brings him back to her place, strokes her thumb against the back of his hand, offers him little smiles of assurance when he goes completely silent.
He wants to hate it, wants to tell her something dirty and toss a stack of cash her way when she opens her door for him. Instead, he finds his head in her lap while she pets his face, running the tips of her fingers over every scar.
Her compliments are the most ridiculous, beautiful things that he’s ever heard, ranging from outright calling him her angel to telling him that he’s charming, that the scars are pretty… He loves every second spent with her like this, with each soft brush of her fingers as they pet the top of his head down to his neck, the way she hums some pleasing song to him when she massages at his shoulder.
He’s never been pampered or coddled like this before, and it feels good. The boner threatening to tear its way out of his pants isn’t something he’s proud of this time; he only wants this sweet little fairy to feel as comfortable as she’s making him.
Maybe he could do that if she let him pull up her skirt and make love to her: he could be gentle if he tried, play with her hair and her clit while he slowly spears her open until she’s pliant and panting, take it slow until she comes around his cock and her pussy calls him to utterly defile it as well as the rest of her. There wouldn’t be a part of her left untouched.
When she asks to be held instead, he swears he’s getting all of that and then some: she puts herself right in his lap, her chest to his and her legs parted just enough to straddle his hips. Her head tips forward against his shoulder as his fingers dance across her back, squeezing at her hips before smoothing back up her sides. She’s so soft… the most pleasing thing he’s ever touched, smoother than gunmetal and the flat of a blade. The way she smells is even sweeter, like spiced tea and blooming flowers.
She doesn’t even slap him when he bucks upward against her pussy, grinds the throbbing bulge in his pants against the place that she’s warmest. No, she only kisses his cheek and tells him what a wonderful day she’s having, what a gentleman he is even if he knows that part is certainly a lie.
Her breasts are soft in his hands when he finds the courage to squish them, against his cheek when she guides his head down to her. She pets his hair, tells him how she’s always wanted to hold a man like this… that she’s been waiting for someone exactly like him for longer than she even knows.
She even laughs when she asks, “You think that I’m pathetic, don’t you?”
All thoughts of just getting a good fuck out of this woman die someplace beneath his skull. Who would ever even think to call someone so lovely and kind pathetic? He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine ever doing anything more than protecting her fragile little heart and letting her stroke at him like an overgrown kitten, not anymore.
“Nein… no…”
He swears he could almost see tears in her eyes when she shoots him a glance then. Appreciative, contented tears that he prays she won’t shed. He’s a man, he’s not going to cry, but… fuck, he might if she did right now. Everything feels so doughy and warm, cotton candy and summer rain when his grip around her tightens to pull her in even closer.
She wipes away those unshed tears as she nuzzles against his cheek, slowly rubs her nose there and leaves a trail of kisses up to his temple. His mind is devoid of anything but outright infatuation, some impromptu dedication. He would tell her right now he loved her and know wholeheartedly that he meant it, but love isn’t in the agreement.
His lady only just wants to give herself away for nothing in return, not for a dick to make her cry or his own money layering her pockets; she just wants to pretend he’s her own personal angel, bury him in all the love and gifts she’s never been able to give to anyone else.
He watches her when she falls asleep curled up in his arms, takes in the way she smiles even in dreaming when her soft breaths break up the quiet. He presses his mouth to hers until her eyelids flutter and her breath catches in her little throat. She wakes to the kiss and only reciprocates it with the same softness she’s displayed with every prior action.
Her lips part to take him in, and she doesn’t even moan when he laps into her mouth with a grunt. There’s no lust in this for her: only the most senseless adoration, all love and tenderness, the things he’s yet to properly learn.
She tastes like vanilla and honey, her tongue yields beneath his own… and finally he pulls himself away, staring into her eyes like he might find a treasure there, as if he wasn’t already convinced that every part of her wasn’t something divine and holy.
“Do you have any others?,” he asks, devoid of any trepidation.
There’s not a care in the world of how she might view him. He’s convinced, certain that whatever he’s feeling has to be mutual. There are butterflies fluttering like the gentlest tornado in the pits of his stomach, and just by the wounded look she gives him then he just knows she must feel them too.
“Only you.”
“Gut… gut.”
There’s another kiss, one that is initiated by the both of them and steals all breath from his lungs. It’s not her harboring tears this time, but him who feels the dull sting, separates from her and turns his head away to rub at his face. He knows that he’s the pathetic one now, burdened down with the thought that he’s head over heels for a woman for just treating him as if he deserves anything at all.
Damn her for the way she readily reaches for him to pull him back in, to kiss at the outer corner of his eye and tell him in such a quiet way that she knows… In just a day she’s noticed him more than anyone, given more than anyone.
When he guides her back towards his mouth with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, could he really be faulted for whispering a confession? “Ich bin in dich verliebt,” spoken nearly inaudibly before he shuts her up with his lips over hers.
There’s no need for an answer, he knows the agreement had nothing to do with love. She wouldn’t accept his money in turn, but maybe a heart would suffice. He promises he’ll send her letters each time he’s deployed between mashing his mouth against her own, swears he will come running back to her when those greedy kisses slip down to her jaw. This sweet dove only laughs and squirms in his lap, tells him she would love to see him any time before he shushes her again.
Shouldn’t sweet things like this know not to feed a stray?
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kwistowee · 1 year
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#top tier torso
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thefrogdalorian · 2 months
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Din Djarin + Chapter 2 - The Child
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thegrimreaperisanerd · 7 months
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I'm not usually the sort of person to get interested in AUs but this cowboy one is tickling me SPECIFICALLY because of the car crash scene in disco elysium
Because... Yeah, it could just be a wagon that he crashes in a sandbank ditch, but that doesn't seem as emotionally poignant
Meanwhile, imagine *intensely* empathetic Harry Du Bois finding the decaying remains of a horse (fragile animal) and being DRAWN to it "Kim, look how pretty she is! Who could leave their horse out in the desert like this without AT LEAST placing a monument?!"
The Paledriver mentions boiadero needing the open plains despite the inherent loneliness that comes along with this existence, Harry doesn't do alone very well, the man bonds with objects; he would easily and whole-heartedly *fully* anthropomorphise his horse
It's the hottest part of the day, sandy, the horse has attracted flies and Harry's kneeled next to the dead horse tenderly stroking her mane. "She looks well cared for besides being dead. Definitely suspicious that there's no attempt to bury or immortalise her, I know *I'd* place a grave for her if she was MY horse. We have to investigate this, right, Kim?!"
Meanwhile Kim's clocked the gaol address etched into the saddle, looking at the pockets that definitely, maybe, contain a sheriff's badge and is like:
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teehee-vibes · 3 days
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Agonized over the fact that when Chip reunites with Arlin, no matter how it happens, whether Arlin is dead or alive, corrupted or stable, preserved as he was or aged by time and magic… whether it’s a moment of joy and relief at a long-awaited reunion or a heart-shattering episode of grief because Chip is too late, Chip can’t even cry about it.
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rexsterss · 3 months
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Were none of you gonna warn me on the fact that Fox and Thorn’s paint jobs are just opposites of each other. When one’s drenched with red, the other leaves it white. When blank plastoid is exposed, the other will cover it with red. They're half of each other's souls, Scoob.
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jackshiccup · 4 months
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in the top 10 witty comeback hiccup moments i fear
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evcndiaz · 11 months
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One thing that was very interesting to me in this episode is the way Eddie was just... not joking about Buck's love interests.
That stuck out.
Usually when Eddie talks to Buck about his love interests, it's with an edge of fond exasperation, teasing laced around his gently delivered truths, but there was none of that this episode. Buck told Eddie he went to see Natalia and it was like something switched. Eddie's entire affect changed when Buck started talking about Natalia. He went from being loose and easy (as loose and easy as one can get when standing at a grave) to being... not combative, necessarily, but visibly actively not wanting to engage in conversation about her either, and it's not...
It's not even jealousy!! We joke a lot about Eddie and jealousy, but it wasn't that at all. It was a fatigue that comes with silence, that comes with holding your tongue, that comes with keeping secrets. Especially when Buck said that he feels like Natalia sees him. That look Eddie gave him immediately after? That was pure hurt. That was him saying I see you too, I've always seen you. But he can't say that. He can't say that, because to say that would be to say so many other things about the way he sees Buck, and to say so many other things would mean to have to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth about the ONE thing he's been holding onto ever since he was shot.
I don't know. I don't know, but I think Eddie taking Buck on a date and I think about how Eddie left his son—his heart—in Buck's care so they could bake cookies together (which becomes profoundly more significant in an episode where Christopher was talking about baking smores with his mom), and I think about Kenny saying Ryan has been doing some very nuanced work in the back half of this season, I'm like
Oh. Oh. I see it, thank you. Loud and clear.
#Before 5B I was like 'Eddie's pining era Eddie's pining era WHEN?'#but babes we are right in the thick of it. It's in his eyes. It's in his smile. It's in the way he looks Buck#in the way he treats him. In the way he creates space for his confusion for his fatigue for his grief.#In the way he shows quiet support and a stern shoulder to lean upon#In the way he doesn't burden Buck with his own feelings (even though that's mostly selfish on his part because#no part of Eddie will ever be a burden on Buck but Eddie doesn't know that yet)#It's just. Eddie's feelings for Buck are literally in *everything* he says and everything he does#It bleeds from him just like his blood did on that street.#If everything about Buck/Eddie's lives have been shrouded by the shooting since it happened#everything about their lives has *also* been shrouded by Eddie's enormous and unflinching love for him#and he keeps holding his breath and swallowing it down and putting off the moment where he pulls back the lid#and it all spills out and before he knows it... before he knows it#it's going to be too late. And instead of his blood staining the street it's going to be Buck's and he's going to tell him#but he won't hear him because Eddie was too slow too fucking slow#(did we all peep the watch on his wrist? Yeah. Time is running out Eddie. Time is running out and it is not going to#wait for fear to release its hold on you. Buck's not going to cheat death again. Don't waste time babe)#Anyways. Yeah. YEAH. Yeah....... whew. This episode was a Lot#jack.txt#tv: 911#911: 06 x 15#911 spoilers
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dandyleyen · 3 months
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does it ever drive you crazy
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just how fast the night changes ?
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crispywizardtale · 4 months
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phantompoguefangirl · 1 month
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I-
Help-
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