#hins

[gxxxyo]

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[ladymariayuri]

how cats see themselves when they haven't been fed for 5 minutes

[theroundbartable]

Modern au:

Arthur: holy shit, I was reborn gay

Merlin: wait, you weren't gay back then?

Arthur: ... No?

Merlin: then what was all that about?

Arthur: ... What are you talking about?

Merlin: You... Me... *Air quotes* do you know how to walk on your Knees*

Arthur: I married Gwen!!!!

Merlin: WE married Gwen, Arthur. WE did!!!

[maxedes]

between lewis downplaying their whole relationship on international tv & his sleep paralysis demon winning his fourth wdc, has anyone checked up on nico rosberg yet?

[propertyofjameswilson]

Not talking, not doing anything, just enjoying the moment with bestie.

[astrowarr]

actually im not done because the martren thing is CRAZY. martren is controlled by martyn's DNA, and through the session, martren comes forward to protect ren. it's written into martyn's very DNA to protect ren, to devote himself to him.

both of them believe that alliances are the core of strength, and the key to survival; so every time ren approaches a team to pitch himself for an alliance, martren takes over. one of martyn's ways of keeping him safe by securing alliances for him.

when ren attempts to kill other players throughout the session, martren is the one holding the blade. in the last part of the session during the final battle, martren never once relinquishes control over their body: he's fighting for ren, he's dying for ren, he's doing what it takes to just protect him. good god this is HEINOUS

[tekkiperson]

how do you think casey jr would react to party poppers? these things 🎉, with the confetti n stuff?@!$?

I think he would love the confetti, though!

[plistommy]

”This- Ah! - This… this doesn’t mean a-anything.”

Says Steve, who’s bouncing on Eddie’s cock, on Eddie’s bed and whining like a whore as the cock slides in and out of his hole with rapid pace.

”Whatever you say, princess.” Eddie laughs, but it turns into a moan when Steve squeezes around him, hole so tight and warm. Eddie can’t help but to slap the other’s ass cheek.

”I mean it, Eddie…”

Eddie hums and gives a nice thrust up to meet Steve and it makes the brunette on top of him cry as it hits his prostate.

The overwhelming feeling makes him topple over on top of Eddie and Eddie’s more than happy to push the other to lay down and take the charge, fucking Steve as his long legs wrap around Eddie’s waist.

”I know you do, sweetheart.”

Steve begs for his name as he cums and it makes Eddie smile before he finishes too, deep inside Steve.

They both knew it wasn’t just sex.

[visionsynth]

please ignore his boobs but i did like how this doodle came out

[kookjinnies]

“ARMY, annyeong!”

[maegalkarven]

I've just played through Gortash's coronation with and without Karlach in the party and the difference-

Like when Karlach is in the party Gortash puts on a mask of composure and authority. Durge is still favorite assassin and all, but 'Lord Gortash' needs to maintain presence.

And then it's just Durge in the party and Gortash is a fucking smiling giggly mess. I can't express how freaking giggly he looks at EVERY second of the convo. Literally "blushing, giggling, twirling hair" kind of a vibe.

And WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK is that? How I'm supposed to NOT align with him??? How my Durge is supposed to not be immediately compelled to destroy the world just so this man kept looking at them like that?

[bruciemilf]

I think Ra's should be obsessed with becoming Bruce's father figure.

Essentially, after Talia, Bruce is the flawless soldier. The perfect gun without a trigger. The perfect beast. Ra's shouldn't be faulted for harbouring potential. As deathly as it is.

Except Bruce is very adamant to break the hand that feeds. Everything Ra's offers, -- legacy, power, strength, immortality, -- every gift is turned away.

"My League needs a strong hand."

"Talia is more than enough."

"But. You could have all the children you wanted..."

"Hn...No."

Ra's shakes him, almost desperate, " What. Do you WANT, child?!"

" I'm no one's child. But I already have a father."

It can be as silly or serious as you want, but personally, I'm wheezing at the picture of Ra's and Alfred fighting for custody. These two would be mortal enemies.

Just these two, forehead to forehead, trying to explode the other with their mind.

" Hand me my heir, coloniser."

" Come and take him. Cunt."

Meanwhile, Pa Kent is seizing his chance.

[jeres-red-g-string]

he‘s so beautiful😭😭💞💞

[waslalart]

Did this at like 2am.

[triptychofvoids]

i heard someone wanted medic stimming so i drew this as fast as possible its canon btw