#he plagues my mind

[old-stoneface]

dr stolz

[frankenbuggee]

I hate him (I love him)

But this doodle of him turned out better than I thought so felt like I should share -v-

[rat-king-art]

I like that balding green guy,,,,

[gladiators-spark]

he's giving me brain rot

I need to draw him more ifbwkdnqks

[d0rky-0utfits]

Literal meow meow

[howmanypaiges]

happy national thinking about Brett Hand day

[sennyshockwave]

I FUCKED THE ASK UP I MEANT TO DISCARD BC I MESSED THE TEXT UP AND POSTED SOB @sketchy-galaxy

Ohohohohoho

He is my disease (derogatory) </3

[peppermintsugarspice]

AAAAAA THE SILLY HAS TAKEN OVER

[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.

[gojoest]

first time meeting neighbor nanami kento in the elevator. both reaching to press the button for the 5th floor. your movements freezing as your hands touch in the air. an awkward “sorry” coming from both sides. “let me”, he presses the button. “thanks”, you put your hand back on your bag handle, slightly bowing your head, hoping it’s enough to hide your flushed cheeks.

you glance at his reflection on the elevator door. he’s looking at you. “new around?”, he asks, voice quiet and monotone. “yes”, you reply, “just recently moved”

“it’s a quiet neighborhood, hope it’s to your liking”

you nod with a barely audible “mhm”.

the elevator stops. the doors open. “please”, he takes a small step back, “after you” — inviting you to go first both with words and body.

“thanks”, you say as you step out but “what a man” you think in your head, your heartbeat slightly speeding up — you might just be tiny bit charmed by this blond man.

“well”, you stop in front of your apartment door, “it was nice meetin—”, you fail to finish as he stops in front of the next door and looks at you, “oh?” — it’s barely noticeable but his eyes slightly widen — “we’re next-door neighbors” — and then quickly go back to normal.

“seems so”, you confirm with a smile.

each encounter with him in the apartment building would lead to slower walks down the corridor and more dragged-out conversations in front of your doorsteps, on purpose — just so you can steal a little bit more time together here and there, neither of you aware of the mutual crushing nor brave enough to invite the other in — it might seem too pushy and inappropriate — you both would think.

your eyes would search for each other every day going in and out of the building. sometimes you’d find him waiting in front of the elevator, even though the hall indicator would show it’s already on the 1st floor. and other times it’s you who’d do the waiting.

after a while you both become well aware of each other’s schedules and thus the “accidental” hallway meetings become a stable part of your day.

but when you don’t see him around this evening you find it a bit unusual. maybe he got held back at work, you think.

he didn’t.

he’s waiting. leaning against the wall next to your apartment door, with a bottle of red wine and two glasses — he’s waiting. for you.

and little did you know — you would leave together the next morning.

[reallilystuff]

dogpile!!!

alt version below readmore ooo spooky

they sleebgy......

[jo1ynesgf]

if anyone wants to know how my day has been going

[konigsblog]

cw: kidnapping, non-con elements.🩸

sigh, all i'm thinking about is kidnapper-könig live streaming his assault on you. :(

it's not always him pinning you down and having his way with you, sometimes he'll keep the camera live recording you in your little dog cage, watching you sob pathetically and miserably, looking into the camera with glossy eyes and a frown.

he'll record him spoonfeeding you too - forcing you to sit obediently on his large lap, whilst your wrists and ankles are tied with rope, pushing the spoon into your mouth and slapping you when you begin rejecting his home cooked food through depression.

he loves getting your hopes up, allowing you to wander around the house curiously with the door cracked a little bit open, before dragging you back down by the collar around your neck, shaming you for thinking about leaving and escaping his ‘love’...

kidnapper-könig rants about his infatuation with you to krueger, telling him about your misbehaviour, and the reason you're forced to act like a dog and clean his boots on all fours. perhaps he'll allow krueger to have some fun with you, showing off all the skills you've learnt from being with könig; dragging your tongue up and down his shaft and sucking on his heavy balls.

[4ngel-inc]

all the info about fukuzawa's big dick you didn't know you needed ۪ ✦ ۫ 𑄼ల۫  ۪

fukuzawa is an extremely talented martial artist—some may say, the best in the world. however, he has a few other hidden talents not many know about.

fukuzawa's cock is thick and long, and the first time you reach down to stroke him through his pants has you gasping into his mouth, pulling away momentarily to glance down at what's resting in your palm, "oh- f- wow, ok." he smirks at that, "something wrong, dear?" "mmf-" your words are muffled against his lips, "gonna have to go slow, at first, k?"

the first time he slides in you he stretches you open so good—it's burning and searing and so delicious as you gush around him the moment the tip slips in, rubbing against all of the sensitive little nerves at your entrance. it takes a while to get things going, but it isn't too long before he's fully sheathed, fucking you slowly but powerfully as your eyes roll back.

his cock hits all of those spots deep inside few others have been able to reach—but what's more, his dick hits spots inside you didn't even know existed. he makes you cum so hard you think you may pass out the first time, your moans and whimpers leaving little time for you to pull any air into your lungs as your vision grows fuzzy in the corners.

after a few weeks together, you still wonder if he even knows how big he is—how he's making you feel. he's never said anything about it, but fukuzawa has never been one to brag about anything.

fukuzawa is always gentle, but he makes you cum so hard you're starting to think you might be annoying him a bit—your moans and whimpers and the way you beg for it each time have you thinking maybe it's all just a little too filthy for his tastes.

he's more reserved than you, and he doesn't say much the first time you ask him to bend you over and fuck you from behind. he simply replies, "oh course, my sweet." he palms one of your ass cheeks, gripping it in his hand as he slides in and out of you—never slapping your ass, but simply caressing you gently. he starts off slow but it isn't long before you're begging him to fuck you harder—it's always like this. "nghh- 'm sorry, yukichi, need you to fuck me deeper- wanna take it all. oh fuck- yes, yes, yes, don't stop." you're crying into the pillow as he presses deeper inside you.

he moves faster, one leg on the floor to stabilize himself as the other is craned next to your thigh, grabbing your ass with both hands as he pulls your body into his harshly, "like this, love?" his voice is strained but it's a bit more monotone than you expect.

as you gush around him, being pulled closer to your climax quickly, you glance back at him—and it doesn't really look like he's enjoying it all that much. you feel bad for being so cock hungry—worried maybe he's isn't getting off as much as you are.

you sigh, stopping your approaching orgasm and both of your pleasure in its tracks, letting his cock slip out of you with a wince as you turn to face him, resting your head on the pillow as he hovers over you.

he looks confused, and a little disappointed, "something wrong, dear? isn't that how you wanted it?"

"am i too much for you?" you don't even hesitate to ask—you've been wondering for a while. "i know i cum a lot- probably too much, your dick is just so good, 've never felt anything like it. 'm sorry if you don't find this as enjoyable as i do, i just. . ."

"no, no- please don't think that. the position isn't my favorite, but i'm pleased to make you orgasm so powerfully." he leans down to stroke your cheek, "i only like to look at your face as i climax, i can't see your beautiful face as you cum for me when we're like this."

"ah-" your heart swells a bit at that as you spread your legs for him. "like this?" he smiles gently as he hovers over your body, sliding his cock back in with ease after fucking you so harshly only moments ago, pulling a gasp from your lips.

"hmm- yes, this is my favorite. but i'll gladly try anything to make you feel good. i've never been with someone who cums so much—trust me, dear, i'm always impressed at how well you take me."

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

[yuwuta]

yuuta exhibits such previously abandoned, recently adopted dog behavior. incredibly anxious all the time, even though nobody’s out to get him or leave him behind. waits for you to return home or from school or from work excitedly, just to see you when you walk through the door. follows you around senselessly, hovering in your space just for the sake of companionship. initiates affection in prodding ways—starts off next to you, then a hand on your thigh, then deems it safe to lay all the way down, then slowly pushes his head into your lap. gets up whenever you need to get up, and resumes his position as soon as you’re ready. brings you gifts as a sign that he’s thinking of you, and maybe because he likes the affection it brings out in you, maybe because he likes the gentle affirming touches of a hand in his hair or a pinch to his cheek. rests his head on your stomach or his chin on your shoulder when he’s sleepy, stays there, immobile, and will not move unless absolutely necessary. sometimes he gets surprised when he hears you calling for him, there’s a moment of disbelief as he thinks “me? really? you need me?” but it’s very quickly overshadowed by this compulsive need to show up, to please, to do anything for you, which is why he always answers when you call. he doesn’t realize that he has puppygod eyes, especially when he’s excited or confused, but he does and it’s incredible endearing. very reluctant to share your space or attention after a while, considers that to be sacred and he won’t risk being let go or lost again, so as a safety precaution, he keeps himself right by you, waits for you always.