not safe for world

18+ nsfw art sideblog. // nsfw0lf art

[nsfw0lf]

Skov/Gansey shotgunning+hand jobs

honestly the fact that other people are on the skov/gansey train makes me happy (and amused) beyond belief!! but anyway yeah absolutely, i fully endorse your idea. in fact i endorse it so much so that i expanded upon it a bit

maybe this is how it comes to be:

Keep reading

[nsfw0lf]

tbh i slept on skansey and should’ve made more bs about them lmao. can’t believe i never drew them shotgunning/making out like i always said i would. i guess it’s never too late....

[nsfw0lf]

just a few (cropped for tumblr) softer moments between these two dumb boys who really like each other’s company. you can see the full images and a bonus doodle on my ao3! 

[nsfw0lf]

do you post your fic/mini writings anywhere? like do you have an a03

i do have an ao3, but haven't posted anything from here on there. i've thought about it thought to make them a little easier to find/access especially since this blog is so impossible to get to these days!!! i'm honored that anyone has any interest still T___T <3 thank you

[nsfw0lf]

maybe i should draw more rodansey p0rn that i can’t post here what do y’all say? lmao 

[nsfw0lf]

but what if adam's off at college, buried in the depths of finals, and ronan needs seeing to -- so gansey lends a hand? because when it comes down to it, he knows what his dog needs. and sometimes that's being pinned facedown on the hood of the camaro behind monmouth, pants around his ankles, gansey gripping the back of his neck and telling him he's good while he fucks him rough and thorough. later, of course, gansey describes it to adam while ronan's asleep in his bed.

whoever wrote this, wanna get married? or

[nsfw0lf]

i still think about this and my marriage proposal still stands

[nsfw0lf]

aw damn i’ve offically pushed too far & been given the blurry icon / “this tumblr contains sensitive media” nooooo hahaha i h8 this place

[nsfw0lf]

i still can’t believe after 3 years of the ban they had the nerve to finally mark me as sensitive content like. it’s just rude lmao. for people asking, u can no longer view my blog in a browser, only on the dashboard. rip to the glory that once was nsfw0lf i’m working on transferring stuff to a different place so u can still see it not just on the dashboard 😭

[nsfw0lf]

aw damn i’ve offically pushed too far & been given the blurry icon / “this tumblr contains sensitive media” nooooo hahaha i h8 this place

[nsfw0lf]

lmao my shit keeps getting flagged immediately even when i censor it so heavily!! im gonna make a patre0n soon so that i can actually put my spicy art somewhere lmao. and just have it be a tip jar situation so it’s affordable and easy for everyone

[nsfw0lf]

oh hey new friends, nice to see u!! should i draw some smut to celebrate this random pop of activity?

[nsfw0lf]

sometimes orla switches into her sweetest sultriest paid-by-the-minute phone voice to call helen things like ‘princess’ and ‘baby’ and ‘gorgeous’ in bed and nothing you can do will convince me that helen gansey doesn’t fucking love it

[nsfw0lf]

I legit can’t stop thinking about Skov/Gansey/Swan and that gave me the idea of them having his number and teasing the hell out of him at all times and the Gangsey is like “what is your problem” and Gansey’s problem is being gay for two of Kavinsky’s boys

listen.... gansey def wants to be in the middle of that sandwich

[nsfw0lf]

oh goosh did you delete the post where gansey fucks ronan while declan is calling and gansey forces ronan to pick up the call? i don't find it anymore. i looooveeed it. gosh i need it back. 🥺✨

i didn’t write that!! haha. you’re looking in the wrong place - sorry bud!

[nsfw0lf]

skov loves getting railed by swan til he’s coming so hard he nearly blacks out and is flinching away from him with oversensitivity, loves that swan will grip at his hips to keep him in his place and shove his way impossibly deeper, how he never stops even when he’s pushing the edge of too much because he knows that’s what skov likes and because it feels too fucking good to stop. skov longs to feel completely out of his mind and overwhelmed with sensation and is so enamored with how swan fills him up, so snug and thick and hot, crowding in close, always finding skov’s limits and then pushing past them like it’s his job to establish new ones

and really, unless skov asks him to - which he almost never does - how could swan expect to stop himself? skov’s an absolute treat when he’s like this, close to sobs from how much it all is, from how happily wrecked he is and how relentless swan continues to be, and god if it’s not the best feeling, swan doesn’t know what is. he truly marvels at the way skov manages to accommodate him even when it should be impossible, adores how skov scrabbles to hold on to the sheets, swan’s hips, thighs, anything he can reach; loves how the noises he makes verge closer to pained whimpers than blissful moans, so broken and desperate and hurt and gorgeous

(and swan always makes sure skov knows how grateful he is once he’s finally spent, too; how good he looks when he’s a complete mess with tears staining his cheeks and swan’s softening dick still buried in his ass. sometimes with words, but more often with kisses and touches, he always lets skov know how appreciated he is, what a rarity he is, how he’s gotta be swan’s soulmate because no one else could make him feel how skov does or take everything that swan gives so eagerly and entirely)

[f0x-meets-w0lf]

sometimes you get an idea stuck in your head and it won’t let you live til you draw it. this was one of those times.

k and his favorite forgery (and some spit). detail crops over here!

[nsfw0lf]

anyways here are some detail crops of my proko/k piece, you can see the whole thing right here!!

[nsfw0lf]

i’m gonna post the finished drawing of this on my regular blog tomorrow but just wanted to have something to post here lmfao so here we are, take a crop of some lineart

[nsfw0lf]

warnings for knifeplay / mentions of bloodplay… more than anything just kinda graphic/detailed talking about it. also just general roughness? it’s all consensual! s&m D/s dynamic. if you’re not about that kind of thing, probably pass on this one. and of course, lacking proper capitalization, i’m so sorry i’m like this.

‘it’s so… pretty.’

the pocket knife isn’t far off from something from reality. the shape is accurate, and its got a nice weight to it; the hilt fits naturally into swan’s palm, and the edge of the blade is diamond-sharp. the only thing that gives it away as a forgery is the transparency - most of the blade looks like steel, but the pointed tip is nearly invisible, ghostlike and shimmering, glassy quartz from another dimension.

‘yeah, k said he didn’t really mean for it to be see-through but it looks cool, so who the fuck cares.’ swan folds the blade back into its handle and then flicks it out again; skov’s eyes follow it with interest.

‘did he make it just for you?’ skov asks, sticking his hand out towards swan, palm flat up. ‘lemme see.’

when swan’s mouth lifts into a cruel smirk, skov’s limbs start to tingle. swan only smirks like that when he’s in a mood.

he’s been in a mood all day, really; last night’s party had gone on too long and too late, and the evening (morning, really) had ended with swan cleaning up after kavinsky’s mess. k had over-indulged in various drugs and drinks, as usual, and provoked some random aglionby boy into a vodka-fueled fistfight that swan had to step in and finish because he was bigger and stronger and more sober than both of them.

skov supposes the knife is an attempt at an apology on kavinsky’s part, or as close as he’ll ever get to giving one: sorry you had to knock a guy out on my behalf, here’s a shiny dangerous object. go take out the pent-up aggression you’re still harboring.

‘you wanna see it?’ swan grabs skov’s wrist, yanking him a few steps closer. he nearly trips from the force of it, and his chest surges with heat. ‘ask nicely.’

‘okay… lemme see, and i’ll suck you off.’

‘a simple ‘please’ would work, but i like where your mind is at.’ swan’s suddenly standing just inches from skov, looming above him, a hawk circling its prey. ‘k did make it special, just for me. i guess for me to play with.’

instead of handing the knife over, swan traces the knife along skov’s palm in a slicing motion, teasing and light, no pressure applied. it should feel like nothing at all, but the mere idea of swan pressing down and filleting the taut skin of his palm lights a slick curling fire in skov’s gut.

‘he was fucked up when he dreamed it into existence, so that’s why it’s only “half baked.” his words. seems alright to me, though. should do the trick.’

’yeah,’ skov agrees, eyes following the blade as swan crawls it down along the delicate tendons of his wrist, still too gentle to even leave a mark. when his breath catches in his throat, swan grins hungrily.

he says, ‘i think it could probably do some real damage.’

in one swift move, swan shoves skov backwards, and this time he does trip. without any grace, he stumbles and falls to the ground, smacking his elbows against the hardwood flooring before landing flat on his back with the wind knocked from his lungs. now swan is a silhouette above him, feet caging his torso, no longer a hawk but a different beast entirely, something darker, more savage.

‘fuck,’ skov wheezes. searing hot pain splinters its way from his elbows up through his forearms; for a nightmarish second he thinks he might puke. ‘think you broke my fuckin’ elbows, man.’

‘don’t be such a baby.’ swan crouches down and tilts forward, shifting onto his knees so that he’s straddling skov’s chest. he rests his full weight there, heavy and warm, and suddenly breathing becomes more of a task than before. ‘you act tough, but when it comes down to it, you can’t handle shit. this is nothing. you want me to hurt you for real?’

heat prickles in skov’s cheeks and he can’t tell if it’s from the pain, or because he can’t breathe, or because he’s more turned on than he should be by any of this. probably a combination of the three. swan kneels up, no longer crushing skov’s lungs, and the crotch of his jeans brushes against skov’s chin while he gasps for air.

with one hand swan grasps his knife tightly, and the other finds skov’s wrists to bring them together over his head. skov registers swan telling him to keep his hands there and he feels himself nodding obediently, the rough denim and jagged metal zip of swan’s pants grinding against his chin.

‘pretend you’re in handcuffs.’ swan rolls his hips down and settles forward, leaning over to touch his teeth to the knob of one of skov’s sore elbows. ‘definitely not broken. you’re fine.’

inadvertently skov tenses, waiting for the stinging sensation of a harsh bite, but swan doesn’t sink his teeth in. instead he swirls his tongue around and sucks on skov’s elbow, leaving a sloppy mess of saliva across the reddening skin.

it hurts as much as it feels good. skov just barely manages to muffle a desperate groan against swan’s hip. his brain thinks, ‘please,’ but the word that comes out is, ‘swan.’

‘yes?’ swan moves back, repositioning himself to sit astride skov’s thighs. ‘are you tapping out on me, perrito?’ the nickname is usually sweet on swan’s tongue, but tonight it’s an insult, derisive and mean. skov wishes he didn’t whimper at the sound of it, a pavlovian response. maybe the name does suit him.

‘you’re always so easy for sweet talking. especialmente en español.’

‘mhm,’ skov mumbles, blinkling slowly and staring up at swan. whose lips are swollen and glossy with spit, eyes half-lidded and smoldering. ‘i like it.’

‘i know.’ swan’s voice is a tiger’s growl. ‘¿quieres que te corte con este cuchillo?‘ he drags the knife skov had almost forgotten about along the middle of his stomach. ‘i think you want me to.’

‘i probably do,’ skov assures him, even though he doesn’t really know what swan even asked. he’s assuming it’s something involving this knife, and when swan presses the flat of it to the slant of his hipbone, he decides he definitely does want whatever swan is offering.

‘yeah. i bet you fucking would let me cut you,’ swan murmurs, ‘let me slice you right open and leave a mark that won’t ever fully go away. better yet, let me stab you. wouldn’t that be something.’ he coaxes skov’s shirt further up his stomach, exposing a patch of mottled purple skin on his upper abdomen.

‘i could do it,’ continues swan, ‘right where i left this hickey last night.’ with the curve of one fingernail, swan digs into the skin he’d broken blood vessels beneath the evening prior when they’d both been drunk and messy, early on in at k’s party. ‘it’s more difficult than it seems like it should be, you know.’

‘hmm?’ skov presses his thighs up against swan impatiently. he’s tempted to touch swan, somewhere, anywhere, but he knows he needs to keep his hands where they are, wrists bound by sheer willpower. he zeroes in on the sensation of swan’s fingers against his skin. ‘what is?’

‘stabbing someone. they make it look easy on television, in movies and shit. it’s not. you gotta be confident. make it meaningful.’ swan touches another finger to the hickey and sneers when skov shivers.  ‘you scared?’

‘oh, yeah.’ skov thrusts his hips up, dick throbbing in his pants. ‘terrified.’

‘you have to do it with intention.’ swan’s digging his fingers in now, like he’ll be able to break through skov’s bruised skin with brute force alone. skov almost wishes he could. ‘you wanna sink it in quick and deep.’

the cool crystalline tip of swan’s knife abruptly replaces his fingers, and skov’s head swims.  

‘bet you’d like the feeling of it, perrito. a nice sharp blade piercing through you. slipping inside.’ swan dances the slant of the blade along the slope of skov’s bottom rib and exhales slowly. ‘getting all fucking wet and warm with your blood. i’d wanna feel it, too. push my fingers in and open the wound a little. make you lick them clean.’

‘oh, fuck,’ skov breathes, ‘do it.’

swan leans in close and takes the knife away, then jabs his knuckles into the tender skin of skov’s stomach twice, sudden and hard, setting his nerves alight with delightful flares of pain. his whole body buzzes with bliss.

with swan’s third jab, skov reflexively brings his hands in towards him, and he yelps when swan smacks them away and wrenches them up above his head again.

‘did i give you permission to move?’

skov realizes he’s panting as though he’s been at soccer practice. he’s gonna come without swan even getting a hand on his dick. his heart is rabbiting in his chest, adrenaline and anticipation zipping through his system. he says, ‘no.’

swan gives skov’s wrists a rough squeeze, holding them together. ‘then don’t move. i have a fucking knife here. you’re gonna hurt yourself, and that’s not your job here. stay put until i tell you otherwise. got it?’

‘yes.’

‘good,’ swan says, giving skov a once-over. his gaze lands on skov’s dick where it’s straining against his pants, then flits to his pierced nipples where they peak the cotton of his shirt.

swan’s eyes flash; he looks ravenous, a panther sizing up his dinner. he cups skov’s face in his hand and purrs, ‘good boy.’

it makes skov feel holy when the compliment tumbles from swan’s lips, words soft as black velvet. he leans into swan’s palm and nuzzles against it, affectionate.

‘yeah. i know you like that. my good fuckin’ boy.’ this time, swan punctuates the praise with a backhanded smack to skov’s cheek, followed with a loving stroke of his thumb. ‘permítame, puppy. let me hurt you.’

when he nudges the edge of skov’s jaw with his blade, skov’s hips jerk up. swan grinds down against him and drops closer, propped on an elbow. he licks along skov’s throat and jawbone and smears his lips across skov’s tingling cheek, and skov feels his breath hot on his sticky skin when he repeats, ‘let me.’

skov’s permission is implicit, and both of them know it.

the sharp steel of swan’s knife is cool against skov’s heaving stomach. it doesn’t hurt when it slices, it’s more of a stinging burn, and it’s the sweetest relief skov could imagine, made impossibly sweeter when swan wipes at the fresh bleeding cut with one hand and crams the other down skov’s pants to wrap around his cock.

‘so wet,’ swan comments, and skov doesn’t know whether he’s referring to the blood seeping from the new gash, or the precome dripping from his dick. each twist of swan’s firm grip lures him further out of his own head until he can think of nothing beyond how good he feels.

the sour tang of sweat and copper bursts on skov’s tongue when swan’s fingers push in between his lips. ‘can you taste your blood?’ swan asks. he tugs at skov’s dick and wriggles his fingers around inside skov’s mouth and laughs, low and satisfied, when skov comes.