dreamcountess

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The Devil's Pack 2.0

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zizka

[dreamcountess]

Zizka edit- KCD2

[dreamcountess]

Sorry. SORRY. HELLO I'M- GOD DAMM UNIVERSAL

UNIVERSAL WHEN I GET YOU

Nuh but fr, idk what to say

X

[dreamcountess]

the thing that I love about James Fucking Flint is that I believe him

he starts giving a speech about how we’re going to destroy the entire british empire and end colonialism once and for all and we’re going to start a new self-governing society outside of the constraints of imperialism and I believe him

I have several centuries of hindsight on my side, but I still listen to this man in 1715 saying he’s going to end the british empire and I think yes you will! 

and of course, Flint’s ability to rouse and rally people to his cause, to talk them around to his side, recurs over and over throughout. to a point that elevates him near godhood. but you never think, oh that’s not realistic. you never think, why are they listening to him. you never think, yeah okay but if they just acted rationally then—

because you. sitting on your couch. in the 21st century. even with the full knowledge of history and also the plot of black sails because you’ve seen it before. 

you hear flint start talking. and you believe him too. you believe he can do it. you believe he’s going to do it. this time. this time, surely he must. 

[dreamcountess]

rare seen a plus size with koing would love a story where he obsessed with the reader their stretch mark,rolls everything

König with a plus size reader is just meant to be. I mean, have you seen the way that man takes out enemies in hand to hand combat? Those soldiers are packed with muscles, and muscle is denser and heavier than fat, so he clearly has no issues picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder when he notices you're being mean to yourself, ready to show you just how much he loves your body.

All That He Sees

Summary: König finds reader staring into the mirror a little too much and just has to show them his thoughts on their body

Cw: plus size, gn!reader, fluff with some spice at the end (mdni), reader having a hard day for body image

Word count: 1.6k

Steam clung to the edges of the mirror, curling and dripping like tears down the sides. You stood there anyway, towel wrapped around your torso, the quiet hum of the bathroom fan the only sound as you stared yourself down.

It wasn’t always like this. Some days you didn’t look. Some days you didn’t care. Some days your skin felt like yours, and your reflection didn’t bite.

But not today.

Not with the way your fingers lingered over the stretch marks across your hips, the soft rolls that folded when you breathed, when you moved, when you existed. The self-loathing was silent, heavy, familiar. And thanks to years and years of training, you didn’t notice the door creak open. Didn’t hear the soft steps on tile.

Didn’t see him until that towel was gone.

You turned around, startled as if you had forgotten you weren't home alone, arms instinctively crossing over your stomach, but there was nothing there that he hadn't already seen.

Not just seen. Worshiped.

König stood in the doorway like something out of a fever dream. Chest bare, hair messy, the sharp line of his jaw and the slight parting of his lips. One hand gripped the doorframe, the other clenched at his side. And his eyes — God, his eyes.

They roamed over your body like he was starved. Like you were his last fucking meal, served to him on a silver platter.

You turned back to the mirror, flustered. “Can you knock?”

“I did,” he said, voice low and thick, that Austrian accent wrapping around the words like silk. “Twice. You didn’t answer, Liebling.”

You sighed, reaching for the towel and wrapping it around your body again. “I was busy.”

“I saw that.”

Silence.

You didn’t move when you saw him shift, didn’t flinch when he walked closer until his massive frame pressed to your back. Just watched your own eyes shift in the mirror as his arms came around your waist, his hands were firm but his touch was gentle, careful not to break you, as if you were made of glass.

“I was looking at myself,” you muttered with a bitter edge to your voice. “Not very fun.” You let your confession out with a nervous yet almost emotionless chuckle.

He leaned in, the heat of his breath ghosting over your neck. “I was too.”

“König—”

“I love what I see.”

You froze.

He said it like it was the only truth in the world. Like he couldn’t comprehend why you’d ever think otherwise. Because he couldn't.

Your hands tightened around your towel.

“You’re staring at the parts I hate,” you whispered.

“I’m staring at the parts I love,” he cut in, voice firm. “Every mark. Every inch.”

His fingers dragged slowly over your belly, the dip of your waist, the curve of your hips, his touch reverent like he was tracing something holy.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not here to convince you. I’m here to remind you.”

You didn’t expect to be lifted.

But König scooped you up with laughable ease, one arm beneath your thighs, the other snug behind your back, holding you like you were made of nothing but air.

You yelped, clutching his shoulders. “König— what the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t answer.

Just carried you out of the bathroom like a man with a mission, down the hall and into the bedroom, dropping you onto the mattress. And when he loomed over you, all muscle and shadows and a type of hunger that could only be found in his eyes, you felt the very familiar heat curl low between your legs.

He didn’t move right away. Just looked at you. Took his time. His hands settled on your knees and slid slowly up your thighs, pushing the towel open with a tenderness that made your heart ache. No rush. No pressure. Just quiet, heavy want— no, need.

“Every time you stand there hating yourself,” he said, slowly crawling up the bed until he was over you, knees bracketing your thighs, hands pinning your wrists gently to the sheets, “you forget what I see.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he didn’t let you.

His mouth found your collarbone, kissed it. Then the top of your chest. Your stomach. Lower.

Each kiss was slow. Deliberate.

“I see softness made to be held,” he murmured, lips against your skin. “I see skin marked by time, by life, and I want to trace every fucking line with my tongue.” His voice was getting whinier and more desperate with every kiss, like it hurt him not to be closer.

“I want to map you,” he said, hands sliding along your sides. “Memorize the way you feel under me. Burn it into my brain.”

You shifted under him, flustered, unsure what to do with your hands until he pinned them above your head again, his gaze sharp. Commanding.

“You’re not allowed to look at yourself like that,” he growled, voice dark and low, the air between you charged. “Not when I’m here. Not when I’d kill to have you see what I see.”

You stared up at him, all shaky breaths and incredulity. “And what do you see?”

His lips curled into something crooked. Dangerous.

Worshipful.

“A body that drives me mad,” he said. “A body I dream about every single night when I’m out on a mission. That I crave every second of every day no matter where I am.”

He leaned in like he couldn’t stay away any longer, the edge of obsession in his voice so raw it made you shiver.

“You walk past me in the hallway and I lose my breath. You laugh and I forget what I was doing. When you wear that worn-out shirt that hugs your hips just right? It ruins me.”

You squirm, hands twitching ever so slightly in his hold, and his eyes darkened at the sight.

“Say it,” he murmured, lowering his face until his lips grazed the crook of your neck.

You blinked. “Say what?”

“Say you’re beautiful, Schatz”

You hesitated and averted your gaze, heat flooding your face.

“I—”

“Komm schon, Liebling.” His voice dipped, thick with accent. “For me.”

Your throat bobbed. “I’m… beautiful.”

He smiled, a slow, wicked thing, and kissed your mouth like he’d been waiting centuries to taste you. And when he pulled back, pupils blown wide, he stared like a man who had just found God.

“You’re mine,” he said, possessive and certain, like it was carved into stone. “Every inch. Every curve. Every mark. All of it— mine.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of it crashing into you like a wave. You didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Not when he kissed you again like he’d never stop. Like he’d spend the rest of his life showing you again and again how perfect you were in his hands.

And maybe you’d never stop fighting that mirror. But with König wrapped around you like this, loving you with all the soft brutality only he could have, you were starting to believe that maybe the mirror didn’t know shit.

He didn’t move for a long moment, just stared down at you like he was trying to memorize the exact way you looked beneath him. The rise and fall of your chest, the still damp skin, and those lips, parted and unsure.

His thumb dragged across your cheek.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “No idea what you do to me.”

You blinked, the weight of his gaze too much, too intimate. “König—”

“You think it’s just lust? Just desire?” He chuckled under his breath, but there was no humor in it. “It’s obsession, Schatz. I think about you all the time. When I’m training. When I’m falling asleep. In the dead silence after a mission, covered in blood, the only thing I want is to be back here. With you.”

He paused, eyes flicking over your face like he was checking to see if you were about to pull away, if this was too much. He wanted to make you see what he saw, and he would never forgive himself if his words were too much for you to process, if they sounded fake to you.

This exact fear made him lower his head, resting his forehead against your sternum like the weight of it all had finally caught up to him.

“I hate when you hide from me,” he said quietly, like it hurt to even speak the words. “I hate when you flinch, when you turn away like you’re ashamed. As if there’s a single part of you I wouldn't adore.”

Your fingers brushed his jaw and he couldn't help but lean into it, he could never not lean into your touch.

“I would carve your name into my skin if it meant you’d believe me — believe that I don’t just want you,” he whispered. “I need you. Exactly as you are. Nothing less.”

You reached up, threading your fingers through his hair, and the look he gave you was soft and wild all at once, and it shattered something inside you.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?” His voice broke a little on the word.

You smile. “When you talk for this long with so much conviction it's a little hard not to believe it.”

That was all he needed. His mouth crashed into yours, not rough, but desperate in the way someone kisses a person they thought they’d never have. Like he’d been starving and just now gained permission to feast.

And you kiss him the exact same way, holding the back of his neck and pulling him close to you to ensure he wouldn't break the kiss before you were ready. You let him worship you the way he always wanted to.

Because now you didn't doubt him. Not when his words were so true, when you could feel how desperate he was to make you feel the sincerity of them.

[dreamcountess]

was thinking abt ghost x könig x reader…

while those two would be inseparable, they’d also butt heads. especially when it comes to you. the right way to treat you, how much to indulge, where to set boundaries…

simon is cold, struggles with affection. könig can handle that. but simon is no stranger to jealousy, either. even though he doesn’t want to cuddle, he doesn’t want to sit and watch you and könig cuddle.

könig is a little obsessive, struggling with giving simon his time with you. he just can’t help it, he loves his little maus. he wants to coddle you—he wants to do everything for you, give you ground to walk on. well, simon might indulge a little, but firmly believes you need your independence, too.

simon understands struggling, understands the overstimulation that must come with dating two giant war machines. so he gives you space when you need it, makes sure he’s not too rough.

könig, on the other hand, gets carried away. a lot. with no ill intent, of course, but goddamn, the way you walk and talk and breathe makes him hard. simon often finds himself peeling the man off of you when you’re spent.

but imagine what happens when you turn the tables, and give them a taste of their own medicine. teasing and taunting for hours, driving the men insane… brings you much to look forward to.

while simon & könig have their disagreements, neither can deny their favorite position: simon laying down, you on top, and könig in the back. woo, that feeling of one cock after the other, sliding in and out relentlessly. sometimes they’d work in tandem, sometimes they’d move at opposite times. either way, you’re stretched and wheezing by the end, coated in sweat & spunk.

don’t forget the spankings they’d deliver. you’re a fucking tease, and they won’t let you forget what you did.

[dreamcountess]

my brain would not let me rest until i made this

[dreamcountess]

"I'm angry. That's new."

[dreamcountess]

Oscar Isaac as Jonathan Levy SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE — Episode 1 “Innocence & Panic”

[dreamcountess]

a world without trans people has never existed and never will

prints

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lord of the rings bigatures my beloved

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via

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ALAN RITCHSON for Men’s Health | 2024 x

[dreamcountess]

Daredevil: Born Again Straight to Hell | 1.09

[dreamcountess]

EDIT REQUEST MEME Anonymous asked LOTR + 2 ∟ Favourite Male Character

[dreamcountess]

You know. A group of crows is called a murder.