#look i made a moodboard

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub Bucky and a breeding kink 💀 dead unlived it's one of my favourite things 😌

This is pretty high up there on my list of dream fantasies 🥵 these are two of my biggest weaknesses, don't even look at me rn

One of life's greatest joys is cuddling with the other person's head resting on your chest so you can play with their hair and rub their shoulders. I love that shit, having someone else's body weight on you is so comforting.

I imagine that's something Bucky would really enjoy too. It's so soft and sweet and tender and getting to feel cared for would really appeal to him.

But that's up until his hands work their way under your top, up over your bare skin so he's able to cup your breasts and bury his face between them while he's getting his hair played with. Life's pleasures don't get much simpler than that.

After a few moments he shifts slightly, tugging the neckline of your shirt out of the way to give himself space to kiss and nip your skin. All of a sudden he's desperate and it's beautiful to watch.

"Please." He whispers between frantic kisses, flicking his tongue over the stiff peak of your nipple before engulfing it with his warm, eager mouth.

"Please, what?" You tease, tugging on his hair just a little for emphasis.

He groans, frustrated by his own lack of coherence, pulling his mouth from your nipple. "Please let me put a baby in you."

That's not what you were expecting but fuck, he makes it sound pretty appealing.

"Bucky-" You begin but he cuts you off, giving your other nipple the same attention as he gave the first. God, that's distracting.

"You'd make. Such. A pretty. Mommy." He whispers, kissing his way down your body until he reaches the bottom seam of your top. From there, he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor before removing the rest of your clothes.

"You'd look so pretty with a little baby bump." His huge hand rests on your bare tummy, imaging how your body would change.

"I want it, Buck." You mean it too. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea when he's taking his clothes off.

"I know you want it." He groans, rubbing the tip of his dick against your soaked core. "Y-you're so wet."

He presses his hips forward, sliding inside you and you can't explain it but you swear it feels different this time.

"Don't even think about pulling out." You cup his face in your hands, keeping his eyes on you and you almost worry he's going to fuck himself senseless into you. "I want you to make me a mommy. You're going to give me every single drop of cum and when it starts to drip out of me, you're going to fuck it back in."

His head falls onto your shoulder, sobbing a pathetic moan against your already hot skin. The pace of his thrusts matches his need, his hips slamming into yours and when he finally gives in, he cums inside you with your legs clamped around his waist, making sure he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to.

[buck2eddie]

★ buddie college au moodboard ★

in which, eddie keeps sleeping with the british exchange student called buck, who might be a bit of a fuck boy, but they keep hanging out more and more until they inevitably falls for each other <3

[hideitaway]

staying in the dream you’re in

[valenfield-inspo]

Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine - Resident Evil 5 Moodboard

[bellelovesyou]

                         7 Days a week 넌 어땠니

                            우린 꽤나 맞는 것 같니

[lorlita]

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

☒　　　　📓　　　　∿　　　　⁺

@umiena

[lyrakanefanatic]

Tig relationship moodboards part 1: phone girl and grayson

[taintedcigs]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄.

your first summer as a camp counselor in lover's lake, hawkins was fun! you were quick to warm up to the gang; steve, robin, eddie, nancy, jonathan, and argyle. even falling for one of them. that was until, a masked killer started targeting the counselors, killing them one by one — a stranger things au ♡

[zzombiecleo]

'nie wiem już nawet, kto kogo zdradza

czy zdradzam ja, czy ktoś mnie zdradza'

- zdrada, maanam

a shadowrot moodboard

[buck2eddie]

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[bradshawsbitch]

an alternative summer moodboard that is perhaps more aesthetically cohesive than my understanding of summer

[absoloutenonsense]

Coming soon…

'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by nonsensedarling

When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That all changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

Written for the @1daboficfest -- posted here! Moodboard by @dearlou

Read a snippet below the cut!

They walk into the restaurant at 7:02pm, and are promptly guided down a set of stairs into the lower-level party room. 

From the doorway, Harry can see his mom and future stepdad, talking to a couple of younger guys – a dark-haired alpha and a blonde omega from the looks of it. They all laugh and his mom goes in to give one of them a hug while John clasps the other on the shoulder. That must be John’s son and the boyfriend Harry’s heard them talk about. 

Harry takes a deep breath, smoothes out his shirt, and reaches for Louis’ hand, ready to walk in and muscle his way through this weekend.

But Louis doesn’t take his hand. Instead, he grabs onto Harry’s wrist and yanks him in the opposite direction. 

“What?” Harry asks, stumbling a bit as he’s pulled. 

Louis doesn’t say anything, just gets to the restroom area and shoves Harry inside one of the single-room bathroom. 

“Ouch,” Harry says, shaking out his wrist. He watches Louis lock the door and whip around with wild eyes and frown lines etched into his face. “Louis, what the fuck? We’re already lat–”

“Will is here,” he says. 

Harry furrows his brows, unsure what that is supposed to mean. “Will…?”

“Will,” Louis says frustratedly. He looks to the door as he adds, “Will. My ex-boyfriend, Will. Will, who broke up with me after three months because he thought I was too loud and too clingy and too much.” He turns back around to Harry to emphasize, “Will!” 

Harry gasps. Ex-boyfriend Will, who refused to meet Harry because he didn’t like that Louis had an alpha best friend. “Dickhead Will?” 

“Dickhead Will,” Louis agrees. “Fuck. Fuck.” He reaches up and grabs fistfuls of his hair. 

What are the odds that Louis’ ex-boyfriend from Oakland is here in Sacramento now, working at the one restaurant where his mom’s rehearsal dinner is?

“Hey, it’s okay.” Harry steps close, and tries to pull Louis’ hands down from his hair, but they don’t budge. “We can ignore him, yeah? It’s just toni–”

“He was hugging your mom,” Louis interrupts. 

Harry is confused. He shakes his head immediately, ready to say that no, that was his future stepdad’s son – when it clicks.

“William,” Harry says.

“Yes,” Louis says, annoyed, finally pulling his hands down from his hair. “Will is often short for William. Very good, Harold.”

“No. John’s son is named William,” he explains. “He’s John’s best man. They’ve been talking about William and Dimitri – his boyfriend.”

Louis pales. “Jesus Christ.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Harry says, looking around the room like the sink or toilet will tell him how to handle this. “We’ll just… avoid them.”

The look Louis gives him is unimpressed to say the least. “Avoid them?” he asks, voice filled with mirth. “You –also in the wedding and the co-person of honor with your sister– want to try and avoid another person in the wedding party?”

Harry inhales, his shoulders slowly rising up to his ears as he closes his eyes. “I don’t know, Louis, I’m trying to think of what will make this easier on you. I’m not sure how affectionate they are, but I don’t want you having to see it the whole weekend.”

Harry opens his eyes when he feels hand digging into his shoulders. Louis gives him a little shake, eyes still wild but frown lines mostly unetched. 

“That’s it!” he exclaims.

“What’s it?”

“Affection!”

Humming uncertainly, Harry says, “Affection?”

Louis shakes him again. “Yes.” He looks over Harry’s shoulder as he continues. “That bastard called me clingy, and basically told me an alpha wouldn’t be able to put up with it.” He locks eyes with Harry again. “I can show him I did find an alpha who not only puts up with it, but loves it.”

[singsweetmelodies]

your lips, my lips (apocalypse)

"Do you know," Pierre says, thoughtfully, "that kissing is supposed to help with stress relief?"

Pierre and Charles begin a new thing in the 2023 season: making out after each new race. And then also... before it. And then at random times, too, just because they feel like it. And then they do a lot more than just making out. (It all goes about as well as you'd think.)

it just occurred to me that i've never actually made the tumblr post for this one, so here we go now! this is my new WIP project for the 2023 season 🫶 in which i make pierre and charles comfort each other after shitty races (and also vent my own feelings about the matter by writing smut. very therapeutic, that!)

updates: at some point after every new race/before the next race weekend. currently, we are at 4/20 chapters, with the monaco chapter being the latest ❤️

[sweetlullabyebye]

moodboard: yo-han as the judgement of solomon and ga-on as icarus

the devil judge, 2021 | nicolas poussin, le jugement de salomon | the judgement of solomon | merriam-webster, fiat justitia ruat caelum | justinian, institutes | e. o. wilson, consilience | herbert james draper, the lament for icarus

[calumthoodshands]

Is it just the way we are? / Always burning through the roof / Oh, I guess only the stars would know the truth

5SOS5 Track 10: BLENDER