#idk if i made it earlier

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[hotelstares]

[daisynik7]

Men who are just too fucking tired. 

He comes home, shoulders hunched as he shuffles through the front door, eyes bloodshot and heavy from exhaustion. He sees you beaming at him, uplifting his spirit just enough to return a weak smile as he presses a kiss to your lips. It’s in the croak in his throat, the lack of spring in his step, the way he slumps into your embrace, in desperate need for a fucking break.

You’d do anything for your man, and right now, you don’t want him to think anymore. You want to empty his brains, clear his mind of stress, ease the worries out of his otherwise strong and sturdy body that’s been withered down mentally. He doesn’t say it explicitly, but you know he wants it. He needs it. 

So, you give it to him. You take control tonight, leading him into the bedroom, coaxing him to relax against the pillows while you do all the work. He could fall asleep this instant if it wasn’t for his pretty plaything performing a private striptease for him. It gives him life to see you naked at the foot of the bed, nipples peaked, eyes wide with lust, removing his own clothes now. You tease the erection growing in his boxers as you shimmy his pants off, palm brushing against the bulge. He sucks in a breath, heart racing with anticipation and excitement, lifting his arms to help you hoist his shirt off. He pulls you in for a kiss, languid and sloppy, letting you explore his mouth. And he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to it, especially when his fingers toy with your throbbing clit. He wants a taste of you. That’s what he craves the most when he’s tired like this. 

You straddle his face, lowering yourself slowly until your pussy meets his mouth, his tongue quick to swirl around your clit. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t need to. He likes savoring you like this. Doesn’t have to think about anything else, just his lips on this sweet cunt of yours. And when it begins to be too much for you, he can’t help but smile, finding the smallest boost of energy to squeeze your ass cheeks and bounce you on his face as you approach your orgasm. 

He watches you carefully as you slide down his body, sinking onto his hard cock. He moans, low and guttural, when you rock your hips back and forth on his lap, riding him. The tension in his body has faded, and all he can think about now is how fucking good you feel around him. With his eyes closed, getting lost in the pleasure, he whimpers, “Please.” 

He’s too cute, begging like this. And you don’t have the heart to tease him, something you might do if you were feeling particularly naughty. No, right now, you’re going to give him exactly what he wants, what he needs. You throw your ass back, swallowing his entire length with each stroke, waiting for that euphoric sensation of his cock pulsing inside you, shooting his hot load deep into your womb. 

He's completely drained now as he reaches his arms towards you, what little energy he has left reserved to cuddling you lovingly until he falls asleep, finally at peace. 

Shouta Aizawa, Choso Kamo, Detective Tsukauchi, Kishibe, Levi Ackerman, Nanami Kento, Reiner Braun + your favorite tired man who needs a fucking break

[froggtogs]

breakfast!

[blundering-thoughtless-hooligan]

Anything for Lulu ❤️

[dizzybizz]

"looks like i win! take that!"

[khaopybara]

GMM'S MEN KISSING MEN PODIUM - BRONZE MEDAL KHAOTUNG THANAWAT

Podd Suphakorn, Tonhon Chonlatee (2020) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021) removed from the set👍 First Kanaphan, The Eclipse & Only Friends (2022, 2023) Book Kasidet, Only Friends (2023) Mond Tanutchai, Only Friends (2023)

(set only possible because of all the data gathered by @ranchthoughts who made a whole gmm kissing multiverse post)

[dompap]

Collection of a bunch of phos doodles from the past month or two.

[xiuminuwu]

A jacket I had originally planned to do for simblreen. For some reason I’m having issues with the uv1 map tho and unfortunately I think I’m too stupid to figure out how to fix it🤠

[asmolbirb]

“Did you know,” Laurence muses, once they’ve retired to the library, and the port has been poured, and they’re both poring over their respective correspondence, which they might focus on wholly were the conversation to dwindle, as it often does in the ease of these evenings. “—Did you know, today marks half a century—since my birth.”

Tharkay’s gaze flickers up; returns to the letter in his hands.

“I find myself reflecting,” continues Laurence, his eyes trained on the parchment in his own grasp, though the ink upon it refuses to coalesce into words, “that I have spent longer as an aviator than as a man of the navy.”

“In a sense only,” rebukes Tharkay, albeit mildly. “The Aerial Corps has had no claim to you for quite some time; nor has Temeraire answered to any formation, or the whims of any but himself. Notwithstanding, perhaps—“ this, an afterthought— “those whims of Parliament, mercurial as they are.”

Laurence hums, distracted. His next words have to fight through a sudden reluctance: “It would gall the child I once was, to know who I’d become.” And then, in a rush, “Yet I cannot regret it. Any of it: for in turn I gained a clarity of understanding that would have been inaccessible to me otherwise.”

Tharkay says nothing, only waits for Laurence to continue, and to reach the core of the thing he’s grappling with.

“I find myself facing another score and some years stretching out ahead of me,” Laurence says finally, “and the inevitability of some new revelation which must await, poised to cleave my understanding of the world in twain once more. I rather fear I could not bear it. I fear I am grown too old, too accustomed to my daily rituals and comforts, to again perform that reconstruction of my paradigm of reality which I undertook upon meeting Temeraire, and upon meeting you.”

Again Tharkay meets these words with silence; but when it becomes clear no more is forthcoming, he says gently, “I can well imagine how the myriad affronts to your morals which you faced in the War have embittered you toward complacency. Yet I am of the belief that predicting, even with utmost accuracy, the shape of tomorrow will not in the least stop it from coming.” He sets his correspondence aside and stretches a hand out to Laurence. “Come, Will,” he murmurs. “It is late, and the world has a tendency to cloak itself in sinister shadows at this hour. Let us retire; let any new revelations meet us in the light of day, where they may be thoroughly examined— where we may formulate an adequate response together.”

For a moment, Laurence’s instincts scream in protest: a lifetime of being relied upon to meet any obstacle with confidence and immediacy is not so easily sloughed off the shoulders. But Tharkay is right. The challenges of tomorrow will demand to be met whether or not Laurence successfully anticipates them tonight; and meanwhile, Tharkay’s hand stretches out before him, more tangible than any of the years he has yet to live, any obstacle he is yet to encounter. With a sharp exhale, Laurence stands, and places his hand in Tharkay’s, and lets Tharkay pull him to bed.

[kindahoping4forever]

Nostalgia For A Time That Never Existed in Washington DC - 26 May 2024

[artfartt]

[ohm-myy-god]

my oc ana. sweet ana

you can see her (long) lore post here basically she's edna's mom and shes cool (also dead). she has the purple hair and pronouns gene

[chipper-smol]

Capitalism shure will make you feel guilty about wanting to work on a later schedule than 8 to 5

[5hrignold]

the picture sucks because he isn’t worth the effort of finding a specific picture of him for this specific post

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3