Claire Keane
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
Jules of Nature
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Origami Around
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms

roma★

★
h
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

oozey mess

pixel skylines

ellievsbear
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@nastyfck
✹ STEAMY TENSION: REQUESTED › ii. [R] initiating on [S] (suggestive, adult)
[F01] [R] crowds [S] against a wall, their hand sliding up [S]’s side.
[F02] [R] takes [S]’s chin between their fingers, tilting their face up slowly.
[F03] [R] steps between [S]’s knees, hands settling on their thighs.
[F04] [R] leans in close to [S]’s ear.
[F05] [R] grabs the back of [S]’s shirt and pulls them in.
[F06] [R] pins one of [S]’s wrists above their head, the other hand resting low on their waist.
[F07] [R] runs their thumb over [S]’s lower lip, slow and deliberate.
[F08] [R] presses their forehead to [S]’s, breathless, waiting for a reaction.
[F09] [R] hooks a finger in the collar of [S]’s clothes and tugs them closer.
[F10] [R] cages [S] in with both arms, gaze dropping to their mouth.
[F11] [R] slides their hand around the back of [S]’s neck, guiding them forward.
[F12] [R] pulls [S] onto their lap with little warning.
[F13] [R] backs [S] onto a bedroll, hovering just above them.
[F14] [R] traces a line down [S]’s chest slowly
[F15] [R] stands behind [S], one hand settling firmly on their hip.
[F16] [R] tilts [S]’s face toward theirs.
[F17] [R] slips their fingers into [S]’s hair, pulling gently.
[F18] [R] pushes [S] back against the mattress.
send memes ( always accepting ) / @nastyfck : “so… about last night.”
Johnny had woken up with a clouded memory, sprawled out on the chest of the man he had a full night with and utterly confused about the position for exactly seven seconds until everything came flooding back to him. Captain was going to kill him if he found out. It was his immediate thought, adrenaline surging through his body as he pulls himself off of his boss's relative, the sinful memories of what he had done with the man doing very little to ease the very prominent morning reaction hanging between his legs.
" Aye. Fuck, I'm so beyond fucked. " The words tumble out, accent piquing each word as he rushes to grab his underwear and pull them up his thighs. He couldn't stick around, not when he now had to look Price in the face knowing that he rode a man who looked eerily like him, let alone the man's cousin.
Relations with your teammates relatives were off limits for a reason, the tamest being how awkward it was.
Turning back to the man, seeing his sheepish expression and... well, he looked mighty hot laying there but that wasn't important. Johnny instead pulls a defensive stance, built arms crossing in front of him. " So ... last night was a riot, you fucked me real well and good, mate, but you gotta know this is a disaster right? Your cousin is real important person in my life. I never want to hurt him. "
Though Johnny had to admit that was a reach, how would two grown men sleeping together hurt another person? Price wasn't his cousin's keeper, yet the guilt still gnawed at him. He was turning into a damned softie.
" Say something else. So I'm not the only one freaking out like a fucking idiot over here! "
the older man certainly wasn't expecting such a drastic reaction to his mostly innocent question when they'd first woken up. "tone it down, will ya? jesus." vost propped himself up on the bed, like he couldn't withstand the freak out that was happening in front of him. he was getting on his years to have his morning explode into chaos like this — never mind the job he had, which frequently had mornings way more chaotic than this. just that... this was more of a interpersonal chaos. and considering there was alcohol involved last night, probably was ailed by a hangover as well. not to mention, the sun wasn't doing him any favours either. "calm down, johnny." vost held a hand up half in what he hoped would be a calming gesture, like he would do to a cornered animal, and half in a futile attempt to slow things down a bit.
he shook his head in an attempt to clear the sleepiness from his mind. johnny's words however, filled him with a sense of pride. knowing that he'd fucked him real well left him a little more than smug. "we're all grown men here. who you sleep with is your business. he wouldn't mind." of that he was reasonably certain. john price wasn't unreasonable after all. perhaps he’d be more amused than anything. "though if anything, i think he'd be offended on my behalf, considering whose name you moaned last night..." a small tease; to show he wasn't serious he gave the other a half smirk. vost jerked his head to the side then, aiming for the bathroom. "now why don't you take a shower, collect your thoughts. and i can whip up something for us real quick?"
He tilts his head just a tad in curiosity as his soft smile grows a touch wider. "Mmm, you can call me Vaughn, handsome. Can i ask, what gave me away?" Could it be his vibrant pink eyes? His glowing aura? The sing song tone of his voice? A hand reaches for and gingerly caresses the stranger's stubbled cheek in flirtatious greeting.
"it radiates off you, love." sweet. tinted with darkness. powerful. danger hidden behind something saccharine. a wild thing. interesting. consider his curiosity piqued.
he is, however, a little cautious. you don't live this long in his line of work without being so. but he can sense nothing untoward. the wards around his house didn't trip. his senses didn't raise an alarms. untoward? perhaps not. but forward? certainly. especially the hand comes up to his scruffy face.
stannislaw's eyes looks up as the god approaches, before they flit down to take all of the other in his sights. his own hands unmoving, waiting. "so what can i do for you? your kind usually want something from me." tone more charming than accusatory.
*places a small god-of-love, as a gift, right here*
"now to what do i owe the pleasure, hmmm?" stannis rarely had run-ins with the gods, and usually they tend to be a little unpleasant. this one though... a raised eyebrow as he spreads his legs, small smirk hidden by his moustache. "it's not every day a god comes a-visiting."
BOYD HOLBROOK The Morning Show | 4.07
honestly i've been struggling a lot with writing and trying to get stuff down even though i have a ton of ideas and muse but i've been hit by the robotfucker brainrot lately again. kinda want to do a plot where a human and a robot/android/etc is on some kind of adventure and have been through thick and thin and they clearly have feelings for each other and is pining but doesn't know how to express them at all and so it all just explodes out of either/both of them one day.
Brandon Sklenar The Housemaid (2025)
Andy always considered it to be a good night when Seamus walked in, evident from the smile that appeared on his face the second he saw the other man. Was he a little shameless with his flirting? Probably. But so far, he had never got the indication that the older man was not interested, sometimes quite the opposite given how much he would rarely venture away from the bar during his visits.
"Ah, I'm here most of the time these days. Unfortunately, sad and broke little tortured artist doesn't really pay the bills the way I'd like." Andy chuckled slightly, before moving around to begin making Seamus a drink. He didn't want to seem like he was attempting to get the man drunk, but he also wanted to impress him with something good. So he settled on making a Caledonia Caliente. "Tell me how your day was. I wanna hear all about it."
"come now, i'm sure there's a few positive adjectives we can add as descriptors." seamus barked out a laugh, fingers splayed out on the counter as he leaned over to get a glimpse of what andy was preparing. and also to be closer to the bartender. "pretty, for one. that would be apt." a bold move, perhaps aware it wouldn't be terribly received but that lingering bit of doubt still had him quickly covering for it just in case by adding, "i think."
the professor got a sense of what ingredients andy was picking up, a ballantine’s, chilli, lime and so on but wasn't exactly sure what the other was making. still, either way it was a treat to watch the other work. seamus sighed, "same old, same old. well but much less hectic, what with the semester ending. no need to prepare a lesson plan and all that, at least for this semester now. i did have a few students coming into my office to contest their grades though. it's not something i usually budge on — unless they have good reason."
Toby Stephens as Poseidon - Percy Jackson and the Olympians S02E08
@whispersoftheveil; for cian.
the deep cut on forearm went ignored barring a rudimentary wrap of his jacket around it to put some pressure on the wound. well, that and a basic use of magic to dull the pain and slow the bleeding. cayde had been working at the event before all hell broke loose — figuratively speaking, of course. literal hell breaking loose had been a completely separate occasion and much worse than this.
amid the chaos, of which he wasn't even sure what happened, cayde was helping people that seemed to be in worse of state than his was. with the place a mess as the tentages collapsed and people buried under cloth, wood and metal. there the photographer was, camera lost somewhere in the venue, pulling metal poles off of people and trying to get them to safety as they waited for the firefighters and paramedics to arrive.
after what felt like ages, when in actuality couldn't have been more than ten minutes, they'd reached the scene and began the rescue and medical efforts. cayde had helped to direct some of them to the more affected areas and people and it took a while before things began to settle down and someone came over to tend to him. "i'm fine. really." he was, in fact, not fine. cayde tried to wave it off, lifting his injured arm in the process. the photographer had mostly forgot about it but his jacket was now soaked in his blood. it was a miracle he hadn't fainted or went into shock. "there's probably people who need your help more than i do."
open starter! based on this gif (bottom version) open to: tops plot: your muse can be another noble, a servant or even someone dalvin picked on the streets - the important thing is that dalvin is obsessed with your muse's natural advantages when he is naked.
"How would someone be so stupid to the point of refusing such a thing of beauty?"
Dalvin liked to see the world in a rather poetic way. Not flowery and silly. He had a thing for giving coin to the poets who could really see the beauty in the raunchy things that turned him on. One such man was naked in Dalvin's chambers, cock hard in one hand, saying he once had a lover who hated his big cock and refused to suck on it. Dalvin licked his lips, just by staring at the thing.
"Just promise me you won't let me go until you have it all deep in me." He approached, fully dressed in his fancy clothes, with lacey sleeves and colorful ties. He let his mouth fill up with saliva and then made himself comfortable in between those spread legs. Next thing was slowly trying to fill his mouth with cock. It was indeed a thing of beauty and its size was what gave it the perfection sort of detail. But it was a struggle.
He was glad that the man had not qualms about pushing the noble's head down, forcing him to take more and more of it.
luken did not hold contempt for nobles. yet there was something so satisfying about being able to take control of one, all too willing said noble might be. he did however, due to his arcane talents, hover in the similar circles adjacent to the highborn. which was how he found himself in the other man's bedchambers. lord dalvin, who seemed to often speak before he could catch himself, now on his knees before him.
"i got you, milord." but his tone wasn't one of propriety or respect; the title uttered like one would address a whore. the arcane wielder forced the other's head down, pushing him towards his base, feeling the other's throat flutter around the head of his cock as it breached the tight space. "that's it. put your mouth to better use." silencing him — nobles were all talk, at least till they had their mouth full. luken wondered if this one in particular would be true to his word. few could take him whole but dalvin seemed determined to count himself among them.
Closed starter for @nastyfck || Andy and Seamus
He couldn't help the smile that came on his lips when he spotted the familiar man sitting down at the bar, trying to ignore the way his heart rate spiked just at the sight of him. At first, he had been drawn to Seamus because of the way his accent reminded him of home, instantly wanting to hear him talk for a sense of familiarity. But over the weeks, he had found himself just wanting to be near the older man, even going so far as to blatantly flirt.
"Was wondering when I'd see your handsome face again." Andy began, tossing the towel over his shoulder as he planted his hands face down on the bartop. "The usual? Or do you feel like changing it up a little today?"
with the semester coming to a close, seamus had returned to the bar to celebrate its end. it had been an infrequent over the years during his tenure but over the last couple of weeks he found himself drawn to the place due to the presence of a fellow countryman. the professor also found he spent most of his time at the bar top than the side seats or the floor. seamus had found a kindred spirit in the bartender and preferred talking to him than anyone else in the bar. sometimes he wondered if andy got into trouble for chatting him up way too often during his shift — but he supposed the other could play it up as a ploy to get him to order more drinks, which worked.
seamus grinned when andy approached him, "wasn't sure if you'd be working today." which really determined the length of time he spent in the bar, if he was to tell the truth. he usually had a jameson to start but he was feeling a little adventurous. "why don't you surprise me, a stór?"
getting randomly blocked by another blog for asking a question in their ims is insane lmao.
It was the same old song and dance. Cyril was exhausted from burning the candle at both ends as he juggled his domestic life and picked up the slack for his team in his detective work but instead of letting Jensen help him-- like all the other times he has offered before in the past-- he brushes it off and refuses to bring him in. At this point it might as well be a ritual for the two of them. "I think you and I have different definitions of the word fine." He argued, softly. "Let me just put some feelers out, off the books. I have a few sources that might be able to help get you a better lead. You don't have to tell anywhere where the info comes from if it's good. Helping you isn't a waste of time for me."
As frustrated as he was enamored with his husbands stubborn tenacity, he watched the man swipe his bottle from the table and take a swig; knowing, in his chest, that there was no way he could spin his offer to actually convince Cyril to let him help.
"Don't change the subject," the smirk on his lips as he deflected the question proved two things; yes this was his husband's shirt, and yes he hoped he would notice him take it. "I won't push it any further, but just think. If you would get out of that head of yours and let me in, we could catch the guy and you could have a break for once; with me."
Shaking his head in feigned disappointment at the next offer, Jensen betrayed his own attempt at not appearing amused by the idea as he reached out to loosely hook his fingers into the belt loops of the other's pants; letting his hands hang from them without pulling on him yet. "Yeah? My own personal holiday menace fucker?" He laughed softly. "--and what would that look like Cy?"
"feelers huh?" cyril knew the other man had connections in the underworld; and he was just a little curious on how much they knew about his grand designs. "i'll marinate on it. i promise," he might just let jensen into the fold just so it would stop being a point of tension in their relationship — though he figured his husband finding out about the truth would probably be worse. a sick thrill did run down his spine though, knowing that some of his work was photographed and carefully documented, preserved in a way that flesh and blood couldn't, and how he'd feel oddly proud showing it off to his love. it wouldn't be the worst thing in this whole scheme.
he evaded the cops all these years, what's one more? saying he'd think about it was already a large compromise that he gave to his love, especially since jensen mentioned he wouldn't push it any further. cyril knew they would never complete drop the discussion so it was up to him to close that gap eventually. he knew it was hypocritical to mention that he didn't want to waste his husband's time, that he didn't want him to end up being consumed by the cases when one person in their relationship already was. cyril just didn't want himself to be the reason jensen ended up having sleepless nights trying to solve an unsolvable crime.
still, the distraction was successful in a way. "'s tight on you." he added to his earlier comment when fingers found their way to his belt loops. eyes raking over the other's form deliberately. with jensen's bulker frame, the older man could see the muscles clearly straining the fabric. as if renewed with energy at the way things were going, cyril grinned. "get me a santa hat to start." he tilted his head to the side as if in thought then continued, "hell, the full get-up. i'll go all out, serve you a whole christmas meal and a jug of eggnog." cyril took a step closer to jensen then but still leaving enough space between them to tease. "put you on santa's lap while you tell me what you want. shower you with presents and kisses. lay you down right by the fireplace beside the tree. and then fuck you within an inch of your life. how's that sound, sweetheart?"
@menxsuck, [continued from here.]
a slightest wince crossed his face for a fraction of a moment. cyril crossed his arms in defence. then tighter still when jensen mentioned wanting to work together on his current case. he'd brushed him off each time he'd asked, always coming up with some excuse that mostly read as it being an ego thing rather than an actual excuse. he enjoyed working with his husband — just not when he was tasked with investigating his own crimes. especially since cyril's team didn't even have a quarter of the murders he had committed on the board; they weren't even a blip on their radar yet. and he intended to keep it that way. having insight on how the police worked and what they thought about the serial killings actually helped him to plan that much better. not to mention being able to lead them on a wild goose chase for red herrings really helped his darker cause.
he detached himself from the wall and moved over to the table. the detective plucked the bottle from the table and took a swig, ill-advised certainly but neither of them were doctors. letting alcohol burn down his throat. "really it's fine, jen. it's just the fact that it's the holidays." which meant double the work for him — self inflicted but still. "we don't need to waste your time. one person in this marriage looking at the board is more than enough." he leaned forward when he felt the atmosphere lighten, eyes taking note of jensen's wardrobe. "that my shirt you wearing?" a soft smile as he added, ""you know... i can be your own personal holiday menace fucker. if you'd like that."