#TW: food mention

[allelitewrestlings]

[statusexile]

[tw: sploshing, food play/kink, food insertion, anal, ass eating, nasty shit in general idc don’t read if you’re easily disgusted]

Konig is probably the type of guy who would love to experiment with food during sex. You’re his kinky younger girlfriend and probably the one who introduced him to all these fetishes and kinks he never heard of. But he loves you so much so he’ll probably say yes to anything you want. He’s in his early forties, he needs someone to spice up his sex life and you’re the perfect girl for him!

It started out pretty tame. Probably with you swirling some whipped cream on his abs, sometimes with honey, maybe some chocolate and strawberry syrup as well and lick it off of his body. The sticky, sweet concoction dripped down his chiseled torso as your tongue eagerly lapped it up, sending shivers of pleasure through his body and giving him a massive erection.

The next time you did it, you viciously drizzle chocolate syrup and whipped cream all over his thick nine-inch uncut cock, the sugary mixture mixing with his pre-cum and it drips down on his groin area. You hungrily engulf his throbbing shaft, your mouth a dripping mess of cream and chocolate as you eagerly slobber all over it. And when he finally cum, he shoots his warm, thick cum mixed with the concoction down your throat.

This time, it’s time to take it to the next level. Your body trembles with anticipation as you present yourself to him, offering your ass up for his pleasure. He grabs your ass with a force, bending you over a table and inserting half a stick of butter into your pulsating asshole slowly. His eyes are filled with raw lust as he watches your ass cheeks quiver, trying desperately to keep the slick butter from slipping out of your tight hole.

Konig brutally thrusts his massive cock into your tight asshole, the butter still churning inside as he fucked you rapidly. The slickness of the butter makes it easier for him to slide in and out, leaving you feeling used and violated as he claims you with every rough thrust as the butter begins to slowly melt and dripped out, coating his balls and the floor in a slick mess. Your tight hole began to convulse and clamp down as it releases streams of melted butter mixed with his cum. His filthy mouth greedily lapping up every drop, tasting the rich, creamy taste as it squirts out from your asshole. What a depraved little couple both of you are. <3

[headcanonsandmore]

Bisexuals are crushing on him. Straight men want to befriend him. Lesbians see him as their blorbo. Asexuals think he’s neater than, like, a whole jar of peanut butter. Half his enemies are also crushing on him. His bonded honourspren is concerned about his mental health. Local queen and various lighteyes can’t stand him. His thirty soul-brothers just want him to be happy. 

[delopsia]

Conquer Your Demons | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 3,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, demon!Rhett, food mentions, unprotected sex, blatantly defiling a church, cunnilingus, mild cum eating, post-coital cuddles. Usage of the Standing Amazon Position in the beginning (in case my description was too vague)🧡 Perry Abbott is on fire. Brief Summary: Fuck, you hope nobody comes to check in on how this whole cleansing process is going. Because there is nothing that can possibly explain the sight of a demon on his knees, eating you out on the altar. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"It's a little bit late for that, don't you think?" You hum, voice echoing, bouncing off the bare walls of this old, one-room church. Ricocheting through unoccupied, dusty pews and rattling up into the rafters. Built centuries ago, has been witness to hundreds of Sunday sermons, weddings, and funerals.

But never has it been witness to something like this. 

"No, no, no, please," Rhett's sweaty chest heaves, keening high in his throat, your cunt clamping down around his twitching cock like a vice. His ankles quiver against your shoulders, fluttering like leaves in a bracing breeze. "I'll be good. I'll be good."

His tail thrashes between your legs, smacking against your thighs. Horns knocking into the wooden table as his head rolls back and forth, trying to shake you away like a bed dream. Skin glistening in the dancing candlelight, muscles rippling, flexing as he squirms. Your fingertips pinch at a soft nipple, awestruck by how his back arches, jolting up from the edge of the table. 

"You should have thought of that before you tried to kill Pastor Perry," your greedy hands run across his burning skin. Roaming the vast expanse of his upper body, tickling down his sides, feeling the subtle grooves of his ribcage. So perfectly compressed, knees mere inches away from being pressed up against his chest, powerless to let you have your way with him and his cock. 

Your shoes click against the floor as you raise yourself up, knees straightening to allow yourself the room to reach down to where your bodies meet. 

"That bastard had it comin'—aa!" His hissed words cut short by the gentle squeeze of your hand around his balls. A poorly concealed warning. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"

And you really should be giving him more hell for that. Make him lay still while you press his pale knees into his chest and make him beg you to move. Completely, utterly powerless in this position. 

But you can't focus, not with the way the pale undersides of his thighs tremble beneath your palms. Already pushed to his limits, and you've just sunk down onto him less than two minutes ago. 

"Are you close already, cowboy?" You coo, squeezing the meat of his thighs in your hands, feeling how they flex in your grasp. 

His hair shakes as he nods his head with a whimper of a "uhuh." Those pretty blue eyes falling shut, breathy noises whittling out of his throat with every breath. 

For a demon, he sure looks like an angel. 

Sounds like it too. 

"But I haven't even gotten started with you yet," your words whiny, bottom lip jutting out to create a false pout, feigning disappointment. 

Stradling him in this position is difficult. Riding him would have been a much easier solution, and your knees surely would have thanked you for it, but there's something about this that has your heart speeding up. Rhett fucking Abbott. The deity that's been haunting Wabang for the past six years, on his back, thighs to his chest, whimpering as you begin to move. Working yourself up and down his cock that's peeking so prettily from between his thighs. 

Pearly white teeth glint in the light as his mouth falls open, unable to shut it. "Thank you, thank...thank—" your fingers delve between his lips. Unfearing as they spread out, dancing past razor-sharp canines. A short, hot tongue laps against them, twisting between each digit, sucking lazily.

"Look at you," you're musing aloud, unable to keep yourself quiet as you find your pace. Button-down shirt clinging to your overheated skin, sweat brought on by the way his leaking cock head drills up into you. The gentle curve allowing him to drag so wondrously against your g-spot, the little bundle of nerves tingling with every touch. "Aren't you supposed to be scary, cowboy?"

Those horns bump into the sides of the table once more, his head thrashing, unable to do anything more than just that. Tries to speak, but the fingers in his mouth muffle him, intelligible words vibrating through your hand and up into your arm.

"What would the townsfolk think if they saw you like this?" You're painfully aware of what your words are doing to him, those midnight blue eyes flashing open, only for them to roll back into his head. Such a sight that only serves to send a wave of heat between your legs. "The big bad demon, getting fucked in the only church in town?" 

Oh, how you can hear the town gossip now. The same gaggle of ladies, aghast as they discuss the sins committed atop the altar. Fanning their faces with their hands and speaking as if they are higher than thou.

Their loss. 

Because you are the only person who gets to experience this. 

The sweet burn in your thighs as you ride him, hips working in their favorite, languid rhythm. Your head fuzzy with the way his thick cock fills you, rubbing past every little sensitive area, nerves alight. Saliva coats your hand, shimmering beneath the candlelight like it's trying to put on a show.

"Baby, you're drooling everywhere..." pulling your dripping fingers from his mouth in favor of seizing him by the jaw. Two days' worth of unshaven scruff scratching at your skin.

Rhett's body jerks upward, snapping up into your cunt with a strength he shouldn't have. "M' gonna...baby..." His arms wind around his thighs, pulling them from your shoulders and up against his chest. Squeezing them tight, like he needs something to keep him from bursting. 

"Close already, pretty boy?" Dropping from his jaw, your hand roams down his neck. Doesn't stop until your wet fingertips find a dusky pink nipple, pinching it, if only to see him jolt.

Those pretty curls bounce as he nods his head, "Uhuh." So weak and breathy. Punctuated by a choked whimper.

"Come on then," taunting, fighting to keep your own voice level. You can already feel the way he's beginning to twitch inside of you, bumping up into those little nerves. "Cum in me like a good boy."

One of his hands snaps up. Clamping down over his mouth just in time to muffle what sounds like a squeal. Suddenly afraid to hear his own noises. Palm trembling like a leaf. Jittery. So out of control that there's not a bit of resistance when you reach up to pull it away. 

"You can do it, come on," you can't catch your own breath. Fuck, it's like he was designed to get you worked up. Your body hard to control as your walls flutter around his cock, spasming with something that makes your eyes unfocus. 

A cry catches in Rhett's throat. Cut off by the sudden convulsion of his hips, cumming with a silent noise that rattles through your ears. Familiar heat spills inside of you, his eyelashes fluttering like butterflies. 

Oh, he's so pretty like this. Face lax, almost peaceful. Until it's not. Scrunching shut, nose wrinkling, a string of confused whimpers sputtering past his thin lips. Because you're still moving. Bringing yourself up, only to sink back down on his softening cock, uncaring of the growing discomfort.

"What's the matter, cowboy?" You tease, your hands hooking beneath the backs of his knees, unwilling to let them fall off to the sides. 

"Can't," his voice unusually pitchy, "Sensitive—!" 

You can feel it. The way he twitches with your every movement. Too overstimulated to handle anything more but unable to wriggle away from it. His hands clamp down over top of yours, squeezing, needs to hang onto something. 

"You can take it," you don't know if it's meant to be encouragement or a reminder, but you're saying it regardless, "You've done it before."

That little bull tail of his is swishing between your thighs, smacking against the sensitive skin there on its own accord. He's lucky you can't reach down and squeeze it at the base, hold it down until he gives you what you want. 

There's a newfound ache in your knees as you begin to move quicker, chasing the feeling of his spent cock working in and out of you. Seeking that little spot that he's no longer hitting. Cum spilling out, running down your thighs, and falling to the hardwood floor.

"Baby, baby, please I—" his tongue loose in his mouth, "I'm—I'm sorry!" 

Too little too late. 

He should have thought of the consequences when he decided to knock that candle onto pastor Perry's coattails and set him ablaze in the middle of service. No matter how you twist it, such an act doesn't qualify as a mild haunting. A little something spooky that remains harmless. 

Your body twitches, exhausted muscles acting on their own accord. The blunt head of his weeping cock bumps into a familiar, sensitive spot. Has your pussy tightening around him like a vice, ripping that wail right out of his chest. 

"Gonna..." that deep voice of his babbles. His mouth still moving, but not a sound coming out. 

"Already?" Fuck, it's hard to feign disappointment when he looks up at you with those watery eyes. Tears welling but not quite spilling over. Not yet. 

Long gone is his composure. His ability to remain quiet. Reduced to breathy whimpers and grunts punctuated by the lewd smack of skin on skin. And maybe some of those noises are coming from you, too, because there's a rawness in your throat that wasn't there before. Gasping for air, can't seem to get enough of it. Sweat beading at your forehead. 

He knocks into that spongey spot inside by pure luck. Your dripping cunt squeezing him for all he's worth, eager for more, more, more. And he's got no choice but to lay back and give it to you. 

You don't realize he's cumming until you feel the pitiful twitch of his cock. His body going still as tears tumble down his flushed cheeks, decades worth of strong muscle contracting, back rising up from the table one more time. Mouth moving around the familiar shape of your name, but not a sound leaving his throat.

"Plaid," Rhett's voice cracks on the vowels. Shattering like glass. "Plaid, plaid, plaid—"

You're already pulling off of him. Numb feet stumbling as you finally, finally change your stance. Standing upright, soothing your clammy palms over his soft thighs. 

"Too much?" Something pops in your neck as you lean down to press a kiss to his knee, scarred from that time he got spritzed with holy water. So much for him being invincible.

His horns thunk against the edge of the table, eyes unfocused as he mouths something you can't hear. "Want..." but he doesn't finish his sentence. Leaving his thought dangling in the air as he squirms, sweaty skin gleaming in the light, fumbling up to his own two feet. 

"Rhett?" You don't understand what he's trying to do, but he's planting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you up against the corner of the altar. Uncaring of the way the sharp corner digs into your skin or of your repeating of his name.

"Want..." he repeats. 

Rhett's knees thunk against the floor, the deep noise shaking these old church walls. Nose bumping into your thigh as he leans forward, eyes closed, blindly nuzzling his face between your legs. 

Oh. 

That wet tongue licks a fat stripe between your folds, serves to stifle his whimper as he settles against you. Drool pours from his thin lips as he twirls over your clit, too lazy, too eager to spend his time working you up.

"Good lord, Rhett," your words carried by a whispy gasp, reaching down to grab hold of those study horns. None of this is what you had in mind, but as he peeks up at you, lips wrapping around your swollen clit, you can't bring yourself to care about what should have been. "Is this what you were wanting?" 

His answer comes in the form of big hands grasping the backs of your thighs, not letting you squirm away as he nuzzles impossibly closer. That tongue of his rubs back and forth, the scruff of his cheek rubbing against you. Tiny, wet sounds, viciously loud. 

Fuck, you hope nobody comes to check in on how this whole cleansing process is going. 

Because there is nothing that can possibly explain the sight of a demon on his knees, eating you out on the altar. His spent, soft cock resting against his thigh, cum staining the insides of your thighs. Your pants have likely fallen into the seventh circle of hell by now, never to be seen again.

That burning mouth of his sinks lower, tail swishing behind him as he pushes his tongue into you without warning. Unphased of the mess he's left there, languidly working in and out of your pussy, soft noises emanating from the back of his throat. The tip of his nose nudges your clit with each and every motion. Enough to have you squirming, pulling on his horns. Unsure of if you want more or less.

"Y'taste so good," he's speaking right into you, each syllable rattling up your fragile core. Fuck, fuck, fuck, when did his voice get so deep? 

It's difficult to miss that pleased grin, poorly masked by your dripping sex, as he pulls his tongue from you. Licking his way up up up to your clit once more. A dull tingle appears as he twirls over top of it, not sure if it's brought on by the act itself or the way he whimpers when your hips jolt forward.

"Cum on my face," he breathes, punctuated by an honorary pause to suck on that swollen little button once more. Can't keep himself away for more than a few seconds at a time. Such a simple thing that shouldn't have you trembling the way that it does. "Please cum on my face." 

Deep in your chest, your heart flutters. Weakly battering against your rib cage as that tingling spreads, skin pricking with it, a twisting heat blooming between your legs. And Rhett's pressing harder, whining your name, and it's too much. Too much. 

One, two, three more flicks of his tongue, and your head is tilting back. Pulling hard on those soft horns as you cum with a cry that rattles through every square foot of this old church. Hips convulsing as he licks you through it, oversensitive, but your head so far up in the clouds that you can't remember how to speak. 

Your lungs are burning.

So are your knees. Crumbling out from under you without warning or notice. 

The big arms that catch you are the only reason you don't hit the floor with an earth-shattering boom. Pulling you away from the cold hardwood and into a sweaty, sticky chest. 

Getting back up would be the wiser option; go back home before anyone decides to pop in, hoping for a glimpse of the supernatural, but you're all out of good ideas for today. Scooting until your back rests against the wallpaper-clad wall, welcoming a rosy-cheeked cowboy into your arms.

"I didn't mean..." Rhett's horns knock against your shoulder as he settles. Such pretty things, pearly white in color, once the classic steer shape, now cut short by the hands of his own kin. "Didn't mean to...I didn't think the fire would..."

"I know," you whisper, your hands curling into his hair. "But you can't be doing things like that, Rhett." He could use a good bath, but you hardly mind the salty bite of sweat as you press a kiss to his forehead. 

There's something sweet about the way that he squirms even closer, seeking refuge in the crook of your neck. Like he thinks that making himself small enough will erase the theatrics that was earlier today. The yelling. The screaming. The arguing over which hunter to call. 

Rhett's soft purr almost gets you to shut up. Almost. "Do you know how bad things could have gotten if they called the Tillerson Twins instead of me?" 

"Could move towns again," he murmurs like he's given this some thought. Has had plenty of time to, being locked up in this place all damn afternoon. 

"Yes, but what happens when someone realizes that the hauntings only occur where I live?" That's the last thing that you need. For someone to poke their nose where it doesn't belong and realize that these events follow your every move. Realize that you're actively working with a demon to make a living, scaring folks into paying your hefty fee to cleanse their home. 

"Ain't no-one fixin' to figure us out," Rhett's head tilts, leaning up to press a kiss to your jaw. The uneven edge of his horn bumps into your ear. Scratchy. "They think demons eat people, remember?" 

Your chest rises and falls with a giggle. "In some forms of the phrase, they're not wrong."

The whites of Rhett's eyes flash. Rolling back into his head. 

You hope they get stuck.

"Funny," one of his scarred hands raise, wiping at his chin, still soaked from his efforts. 

Without rhyme or reason, you're reaching out, taking hold of that strong, prickly jaw. Watching how he lets you tilt and turn his head, not the slightest hint of resistance. Your thumb presses against his lips, and they part, humming as you pin his wriggling tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Completely and utterly pliant.

Cute.

"I say," speaking with your thumb still in his mouth, sucking on it during its retreat, "that y'let me haunt that cute lil' bakery down the road." 

"I'm not letting you rob a bakery blind," you groan, head thunking back against the wall. It always circles back to the restaurants and the cute little bakeries. Like he doesn't get enough from licking the cookie dough off the spoon and quietly bugging you for bites of the dinner, he said he didn't want.

"Come on!" There's that whine of his, batting those thick lashes up at you. If he could, he'd be forcing tears to well in those deep blue eyes. "We get paid, and we get free donuts!" 

Tempting. But contrary to the popular belief of the public, you still cling to a few of your morals. And that includes not causing a pastry crisis in Wabang."I'll buy you a dozen when I pay our rent tomorrow." 

With a huff, Rhett falls back into your chest. Dramatic. "Fine," but you can hear the smile in his voice. A little bit excited. 

You need to get going. The first of the birds are beginning to chirp, and with them, sunrise is sure to come. Bringing life back to the streets of Wabang and prying eyes who won't take too kindly to the swishing tail and short horns of a demon walking amongst them. 

But he's so warm. 

All swollen muscles and soft grumbles, snuggling up like you're his favorite pillow. Content to lay here forever, with his ear listening to the quiet thump of your heart and feeling your hands roam up and down his spine. And quite frankly, you're content to stay here too. Even if the hard floor is making your ass go numb.

"Your method could use some work," Rhett yawns, rubbing his cheek against you, trying to burrow himself closer, "my back hurts."

Well, in that case... "That just cost you a donut." 

His head snaps up. Eyes wide. "You wouldn't."

"I would," defiantly sticking to your guns. 

You have a half second to scramble to your feet before Rhett is pouncing on you. All giggles and empty threats as he fumbles after you, chasing your half-naked form down the aisle. Tearing around corners and ducking between pews, hastily searching for clothes that you don't remember taking off.

"I'm gonna get you!" Rhett's only got one boot on. The other flailing in his hand as he races out the front doors, hot on your tail. 

And get you he will.

If he can ever catch you, that is. 

[kylos-starlight]

Good news is, none of my fo would starve. I love cooking! chilli toniiight~ :3

[smellslikefeathers]

... Do you think Papyrus knew he was on a date with an eldritch being in the guise of a child, a.k.a. The Player? Was he aware and yet tried to make us happy anyway?

On another subject... in Deltarune... I wonder if I should have let Kris and Susie eat the chocolates... I wonder if Kris is mad at me... I wonder if that's worth writing a sequel to one of my fanfics...

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Why do we have to become hungry several times during the day? I feel like I just sat down to have lunch and watch an episode of Glee and OKAY one episode turned into three and OKAY it was a late lunch but suddenly it’s dinner time and just when I feel ready to start unpacking some moving boxes I’m hungry again and have not unpacked enough kitchen ware to prepare actual meals or gone grocery shopping?! What is this adulting thing and how do you do it. And why does living alone and being an adult mean I have to do my own grocery shopping and make my own meals? Life is surely out to get me.😩

[youbutstupid]

Btw if you see any TikTok with the caption ‘What I Eat in a Day as someone who eats a lot’ skip that shit cos chances are, they don’t even eat a lot and are just promoting unhealthy ideas surrounding food. You don’t need to feel guilty for eating when it’s a prime source of enjoyment and is literally something you need to do to like, survive.

[blood-and-pizza]

They changed the contents for the FNAF Recipe Book, including (but not limited to) giving Roxanne's Fully Loaded Hotdog to Glamrock Freddy instead. I think the people behind the book saw Twitter's responses... what a shame!

[queer-as-in-slightly-odd]

pls reblog so other people can take part!

[jellicrusade]

i'm thalia, the first photo is a depiction of what we're all thinking when we've already ordered our food but the table next to us looks better, the second picture is an accurate depiction after i've had pasta

[iheartpeppino]

According to a bit of graffiti in the sewer level, Pizzaface EATS PIZZA. To me, this can only mean that Pizzahead also eats pizza.

I can easily imagine Pizzahead being confronted about this and him going, "What? There's nothing weird about a pizza man eating pizza! I know pizza's delicious! I'm not gonna pretend it's not just because you think it's weird!" And he just takes a big bite out of the slice he's consuming just to punctuate his point.

[kylos-starlight]

How to get my self insert to do anything.

1. Tell them there's food.

2. Tell them it's Greek food.

3. You win.

[genderoftoday]

tw food mention

today’s gender is when you’re hungry but you can’t find anything that sounds good to you…so you just suffer through the executive dysfunction until you can get yourself to eat something…

‎

[seltzer-tastes-pretty-good]

Some other BF&GF headcanons bc they are rotating in my brain rn

-Boyfriend's beeping is a vocal stim for him when he isn't singing. He also sometimes goes semi-nonverbal, where he'll substitute normal words for it, leading a few to believe that's just how he talks normally. Girlfriend is pretty much the only person who understands him when he's like this as well. She picked up a couple meanings behind the beeping. "Beep Bo Baaah" means 'I'm hungry', for example.

-Girlfriend's stim is chewing on stuff. Blankets, shirts, her phone, you name it. The biggest victim of this, though, are pens and other art supply. It's not uncommon to see a splotch of ink on her teeth after biting just a little bit too hard on one of her drawing pens. Boyfriend's solution was to get her some stainless steel pens...but she ends biting through those too.

-GF spoils BF rotten whenever she can. Mostly with food and weird thrift store finds. Boyfriend's bedroom and basement contain a whole assortment of funny little trinkets and clothes that GF picked out and went, "Hm, yes, he will like this." and he always does.

-BF, of course, doesn't get along with either of GF's parents, with one exception; MM during her poker games. Mainly because he's a good way to distract everyone from the nineteen cards she has up her sleeves at any given moment. She invites him and GF over, they distract and annoy the other participants so she can cheat, then she buys them both one of those big soft pretzels with cheese dipping sauce.

-BF's parents, on the other hand, are actually on very good terms with GF and support the relationship. They don't visit together very often, because their a little too eager, and really want them to start planning out a wedding already. GF is very adamant that they somehow get their parents approval before they even mutter the W-word, lest her folks' wrath be upon several thousand innocent people.

-GF, when bored, will sometimes watch those Family Guy clips with Subway Surfer gameplay underneath for an hour or so. She knows it's garbage but, hey, it keeps her brain occupied.

-Despite not being able to cook anything that isn't a PB&J, GF is a huge fan of Cooking Shows, Hell's Kitchen being her favorite. Whenever she binges the show, she thinks 'ha, I can do better than these chumps'. Then proceeds to cause a kitchen fire. Every single time.

-if BF was ever sent to court, he'd immediately ask for the aid of Phoenix Wright, the video game character...then GF would suddenly make him real using her powers. Yep, that's a thing she can do. If he refuses to take the case, then they'll settle on Saul Goodman. Neither have seen the show, mind you, but they saw a lot of memes about it.

-Another power of GF is access to a personal pocket dimension. How do you think she gets those speakers anywhere she needs them? This is the same place she keeps her phone, her wallet and, on occasion, a few minions to back her up in a fight. It's more convenient than a wallet and she doesn't need to splurge on a dress with pockets. If someone really irritates her, she can also someone her speakers mid air to drop on someone as an attack.

-Both BF and GF are also very clingy and touch-starved. The two spend a lot of time cuddling. This is also why hand holding is so effective on helping him recover from an L.

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

I really need to get started on project ‘making a routine schedule’. It’s the first week of the semester and it just.. hasn’t happened all by itself and I don’t suddenly have time awareness??! Rude. It is now past 8 pm, I have not started on dinner, had to be let in by my neighbor bc I forgot my keys going outside just now, and also I forgot to pick up my package with costume parts for the party I’m going to tomorrow while out picking up stuff today. It’s my brother’s birthday tomorrow and I invited him over for breakfast - which I have not done groceries for yet🙃

I feel part of it is still the rollercoaster of yesterdays news - I just want to be on tumblr and talk to you guys, make posts about my thoughts, reply to mentions about beginnings week and make fic rec lists.. and reblog and contribute to keep up the excitement for the new season and all the teasers we also got yesterday!! I want to have like, two days with no obligations and other people cooking my dinner for me to just do that instead of also having to do life!!!