#👀 / desires

[ms0milk]

thinking about mithrun dunmeshi who could incapacitate most opponents in hand-to-hand (update: he’s a trained knife-fighter!) but chooses to use extremely fastidious teleportation magic without blinking at how easy it would be to accidentally blow himself or everyone involved, friend or foe, all the way up

(and finding something in all of his lackthereof, to smile about here which only ever happens one more time SPARE me SPEAR me anything love this guy forever)

[mollywog]

Not Katniss using the word delicious to describe a feeling connected to Peeta right after comparing her need to kiss him to hunger

[a-hazbin-reader]

Imagine you and human!Alastor meeting and having an instant connection, leading to a one night stand. Only to find out a few months later that you're pregnant.

So then you two meet again years later, and you have a little kid who looks just like him. He's not stupid, so Alastor insists on being in their life, and he ends up being an amazing father.

To make things worse(better), you two still have that connection and crave each other. Your kid picks up on that and does everything they can to play matchmaker with you two.

[emmyrosee]

okay so osamu is such a good kisser like it’s UNFAIR!!! you’ll just be minding your own business finishing off an assignment or something and he gets so lovey seeing u work so hard and he just comes up to you, swings your chair round and pecks your lips but he can’t stop there so he makes out with you for like 10 mins and then your heads too fuzzy to actually remember to hand in the assignment, but dw samu reminds you to once he’s had his way with you

GOD AND HE ALWAYS LOVES KISSING YOU ITS SO AGGRESSIVE AND LOVING I HATE HIM.

It’s always like. Okay, so every time he pulls you in for a distracting kiss, he does this thing where he gently grips your chin and guides your face to look at him, leaning in for a kiss after, which obviously you take, because you love kissing osamu like breathing.

You could be there for pauses, it’s ridiculous.

The way his hands hold your cheeks, the way his thumb lazes over the warmth, his lips so plush you could fall asleep in such a relaxed position, you could stay for hours if he’d let you.

And he would let you. But he doesn’t have to.

He knows you’ll come right back for some more.

“How’s work baby?” He asks against your lips, biting his own when your eyes dart to them.

“‘S good.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you go away for like, 20 minutes?” You ask genuinely. “I have to focus and you’re a hinderance.”

He chuckles and stands up straight, “can’t help that you’re addicted.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!” He calls back down the hall.

And you’re not. You’re totally not.

The way you crawl into bed next to him a little bit later is for him, the way you tug on his shirt for his attention is for him, and the way you beam when he leans forward to continue where you two left off?

That’s strictly for him too.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[celerydays]

🫴 have this lil cropped sketch as i am probably gonna be a bit quiet once again – just for the rest of this week due to deadlines, work, and a spot of social plans that don't leave a lot of room for working on personal stuff ✨

bonus – showing my Seb sketches to my non-HL bestie:

[ohgreat-moretapes]

Tim I noticed a lot of indigenous patches on your jacket, are you Native?

Idk what my dad was 'cause I never knew him, but yeah my mom is (or... Was.. I guess..) Muscogee, the tribe native to the part of Alabama I'm in.

If I remember correctly she came to Alabama from Oklahoma (where a lot of Natives were displaced to in the 1800s) to "get back to her roots."

But yknow, I was separated from her in childhood (which tbh is upsettingly common for Native families) and I was raised in a very white very Catholic asylum so I'm not as connected to the culture as I'd like to be.

-Tim

[marclef]

I cannot contain myself anymore! I must squish my face into Fakey’s stomach area like a comfy pillow!

I MUST and I SHALL!!

The Fake Peppino Belly Incident of 2024 (colorized)

[good-beansdraws]

It's LOVE that guides my cleaver with such tenderness ♡

From Butcher Vanity 🍽

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

Rory on Jess + text posts (seasons 4 & 6 edition) | (season 2 edition) (season 3 edition) (AYITL bonus edition)

[blujayonthewing]

GRIPPED with the sudden overwhelming desire for a pumpkin-shaped soup bowl to eat pumpkin soup out of

[torawro]

i like ‘em a little insane, covered in blood and severely mentally unstable <3

[spicygingerhoney]

I think this set might be just a little bit too small

[robertdowneyjjr]

the thing is.

yes, tony loves sex. he full well earned his playboy title. but what most people don’t realize, what he only lets the most important people know, is that what he cherishes the most is kissing.

he loves kissing. he craves the feeling of soft lips against his own, of kisses being peppered across his skin. he loves the simple intimacy of it and he thinks if he had to give up sex, he’d be fine. but kisses, he can’t live without.

tony loves when pepper kisses his cheek whenever he’s done something to make her especially proud. he loves the way rhodey would press a kiss against his hair when they’re hugging goodbye before he ships out again. he loves happy’s forehead kisses that he gives out even when he’s grumpy after tony has beat his ass while sparring.

but what makes him happiest are the kisses from steve and bucky. he loves the way steve would hold him from behind and trail soft kisses up the back of tony’s neck, sending a delightful tingle down his spine. he adores when bucky takes tony’s hand and kisses the inside of his wrist, never failing to make tony blush just from that simple touch. he finds going to the medbay after a battle more bearable when steve is there to patch him up and kiss his cuts and bruises better. and movie nights are made all the better when bucky cuddles up beside him and presses kisses into tony’s shoulder just because he can, just because he wants to.

tony absolutely loves kisses. and kisses from steve and bucky are simply the best.

[cowboyemeritus]

not sure what this is but have some Copia/witch reader because I’m already thinking abt Halloween :)

There’s a warm, pleasant pressure at the base of his skull as your consciousness slips into his mind, overlapping with his. Then, a tugging sensation, like he’s being pulled on an invisible string.

My love, you whisper, voice at once nowhere and everywhere. The sultry quality of it sends a delightful shiver down Copia’s spine. Already, his heart is beating faster. Come to me. Like a moth to a flame, he cannot possibly resist; you had bewitched him, completely and utterly, a long time ago. His joints protest as he rises from his chair, weary from sitting for so long, but he persists, drawn to you by forces he knows are far beyond his comprehension.

You remain seated firmly in his mind as he flees the stuffy isolation of his office. Once unsettling, your presence has become a comfort, a blanket over the raging fire of frustration and anxiety that comes with his new station. From the series of images that flashes behinds his eyes — twisted sheets, sweat-slicked skin, swollen lips — he knows exactly where you are and what your demands will be. A flash-flood of arousal washes over him and he balls his fists, fighting the urge to moan out loud as his cock twitches with interest, already filling out. Whether this is his own nature or another one of your tricks he can’t quite tell, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is getting to you. The pile of paperwork on his desk can wait; the call of his mistress is of paramount importance.

The hallways of the Ministry, lined with the tombs of former Congregants, seem to wind on forever. With each second that passes, each moment he’s away from you, he grows more agitated, his heart racing and palms sweating. Beneath the gooey, honeyed feeling of your influence is a buzzing, like a nest of angry hornets, and as the journey to your shared chambers drags on it only grows. He turns the corner and is immediately blinded by the light of the full moon, streaming in through the stained glass windows. Today has been far too long and somehow, its ending completely skipped his mind until now. Taking a moment to breathe, Copia lets the pull of your magick, your siren song, numb him to the day’s events. As the bliss creeps into his mind, he sighs with relief. This, to surrender and let you take control, is exactly what he needed.

In the blink of an eye he’s standing before the heavy wooden door of your suite. Your power is overwhelming; you’re so close he can practically taste you. He reaches for the knob but the door opens on its own, beckoning him in. Stepping inside, he is immediately met by the smell of burning incense, a scent that so often clings to your skin, and he throbs in his trousers. His feet seem to carry him to the bedroom, the edges of his vision fuzzy as he stumbles through the dark apartment. The door is already ajar, allowing a beacon of soft orange light to seep out. Through the haze of magick and arousal clouding his mind, Copia is vaguely aware of the anticipation bubbling up inside as he pushes it the rest of the way open and shuffles into the room.

In his peripheral, he can see that the windows are open, letting in cool night air that caresses his feverish skin. The full moon hangs right in frame, as if to observe the scene transpiring below. Scattered across the room are clusters of lit candles, red and black. Their flickering light casts shadows that seem to move on their own, morphing into shapes that appear remarkably creature-like.

You are the centerpiece of the room, splayed out on the bed like the concubine of some great king. The candlelight casts a glow across your naked skin, gleaming as if you were forged from gold itself. You smile at him gently, but there is a predatory, primal hunger in your eyes. When your gazes finally meet an electric spark runs down Copia’s spine, nearly bringing him to his knees. His hands start to move on their own, scrambling to undo his various buttons and zippers until he’s standing at the foot of the bed, completely nude before you. The heat of his arousal is like an iron against his stomach and every inch of him burns, craving your touch. Looking him up and down, you lick your lips.

“Darling,” you coo, extending a hand. “Won’t you come to bed?”

“Yes,” Copia mumbles, feeling wonderfully out of his body. Already, the weariness in his bones is ebbing away. “I think I will.” He takes your hand, kisses it, and then his mind goes completely blank.

[catcze]

Okay so we all know wriothesley looks like a wolf/dog right? Therefore it's only natural that his s/o would think about maybe putting him in a collar. Just saying. (I feel like he'd be kinda into it too tho)

OOOH he would be !! Okay okay i'll keep this sfw for now, but i do think he'd be into it. I mean, a black leather collar / choker definitely matches his aesthetic, don't you think ?

So it would make perfect sense if you, while you're shopping around in the city, see a pretty leather collar in the window of an accessory shop and you think, hey, I think he might like this! so you go in, purchase it, and even pay a little extra for a red box with a black ribbon, just to give his unboxing experience a little extra oomph, you know?

When you're done and you get back to the fortress, it's a bit later in the evening, towards the end of the work day, and Wriothesley is mostly just finishing up on some things that shouldn't take too long. You stride into his office, box in one hand with a big grin on your face.

"Hey," you tell him, perching yourself on one end of his desk clear of papers. Wriothesley smiles, dropping his pen to take your hand in his.

"Hey yourself. You find anything interesting?"

"Yeah, actually." The box jingles just a little bit when you shake it, and his eyes are on it, curious and assessing what could be inside. "It's for you, truth be told." His interest piques at that, and he's quickly diving back into his work, wanting to finish up first so he can give you his full attention.

Once he's finished, he hefts some non-urgent papers into an empty drawer to deal with tomorrow, securely locking it up before turning to you with barely concealed interest. He's not unlike a big dog, curious and interested, but awaiting for your say-so before diving for his present. It kind of makes you want to laugh.

You cut his suffering short and hand it to him, watching with bated breath as he opens it and pauses upon seeing the collar.

"I saw it earlier when I was walking. I thought you'd be able to pull it off well so... I thought you'd like it."

He's still saying nothing, looking at the leather accessory as if it held the answers to Teyvat. You're just about to wonder if he hates it when he gingerly plucks it from the box, undoing the buckle in front.

"Can you put it on for me?" Wriothesley asks, startling you. He's already holding the collar out in the palm of his hand and tilting his head in a way that makes it easier for you. You acquiesce easily, gently wrapping the leather around his neck, careful when you buckle it and asking with nearly every motion if its too tight or if he can breathe. When you finish and buckle it up, you don't miss the way his breath hitches.

"All done," you tell him, stepping away for a second to get him a mirror. He looks pleased when he glances at himself in the mirror, touching the collar as he moves his head this way and that, testing out how it looks.

"Not half bad," he says, in a tone that tells you that he actually likes it quite a lot. If not for the way he says it, you can see it in the slight quirk to his mouth that he just can't tamp down. "Thanks for the gift, sweetheart."

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, and it has you chuckling. "I'm glad you like it," you tell him, your hand reaching down to play with the collar, running your fingers along the cool leather.

"I do. Though..." he trails off, smile turning sly. "I think I'd like it more if we could get a little tag for it with your name on it. 'Property of', you know? Something to let everyone know that I'm yours."

And when you splutter, falling backwards in surprise so fast that you nearly trip and he has to keep himself from laughing at you, he doesn't once take his words back.

[gulaab-jaamun-galaxy]

I stay up through the night; because that is when the moon and I have our conversations. I tell her about how I drown in the sparkle of your brown eyes and she tells me about how the sun makes-even the darkest parts of-her shine. 🌙💞🌻

Getting to know her was not easy. She had walls. Many walls built up. She put them as a test to see who would climb them. Climb them, and you’ll find a locked door. The key is communication. After you open the door, that if you get there, you’ll see her wearing masks. A thousand masks. The trick is to let her peel them off one by one and give her a safe haven to be herself around. She's goofy, sedulous, smart, chaotic, and a bit more. You just have to wait till she divulge one trait at a time.

I see the story in your eyes, and I want to read it. Your eyes are filled with such peace and thoughtfulness, I want to study their meaning. I am interested in the story they tell.

I see them sparkle and shine. I see them filled with emotion and desire. I want to know the story behind them. As dark as the night and yet lit like the full moon they shine. They look so deep like the deepest book, filled with endless pages I turn with such delight.

Let me know your story, let me read your heart that fills them. For your eyes are the index of such great content. Open them to me and let me look inside.

करीब आ तेरी आँखों में देख लूँ खुद को बहुत दिनों से मैंने आइना नहीं देखा।

@wizardcherryblossom 💌

@bareilly-wala-jhumka 💌

Dark brown orbs, an ocean's trance, Diving willingly, in a lover's dance. Lost within currents of passion's tide, A drowning embrace, where hearts confide.

A tiny, beauty spot, unique and rare, Underneath her left eye, it finds its place, Adding charm and grace to her lovely face.

After days, both tough and rough, Her eyes, a haven, tender and enough. Soothing rays in wounds unseen, In depths, love's serenity, serene.

Yet, if tears dare to tread near, A vow whispered, sweet and clear. Against stormy tides, love as our guide, Protecting her eyes, forever side by side. ♾️ 🤞🏻 💞