#phew 😮‍💨

[caliphoria17]

Arcane Vi Sixth Scale Collectible Figure by Hot Toys (11.02"/28 cm) – $280

Expected to ship: JAN. 2026 - JUN 2026

Available for pre-order at SIDESHOW

[maxie-vp]

[pfhwrittes]

having thoughts about gaz and soap maybe sharing a little kiss after a risky mission because of the mix of adrenaline, relief and fear that the other is okay.

a "thank god we made it" kiss that both of them agree was definitely the result of heightened feelings and will never happen again. except they both think about it for days afterwards.

and then maybe that "thank god we're alive kiss" ends up being a "okay we're both tipsy but not drunk" kiss when they're coming back from the pub. they both blame the beer and say that they're drunker than they actually are.

maybe that "tipsy but not drunk-drunk" kiss turns into a "fuck you're so stupidly hot when you're mad" kiss after one of them witnesses the other lose their cool. maybe it's a "fuck you i can look out for myself" kiss. maybe it's a "i know you can, but you're mine to look out for" kiss.

maybe i'm just thinking about soap and gaz necking and frotting up against each other in one of their rooms, spit slick and desperate for friction.

[daisies-daydreams]

HOLY SHI-

[stargirl-russo]

be real

[ii2xj]

[randomagnes0210]

🤍

[brutermonger]

260 Boops given.. booped my fav artists, mutuals, followers and favorite reblogs of the year so far.. *WHEEZE* 👍🐾

[elover]

another article of mine will be published in le petit 3 next month!

[youcouldstartacult]

Niall Horan backstage at The Voice | May 15 2023

[alejaosbastardos]

I remembered when Lezhin cancelled Spring in the Heart, which promised to be manhwa of the YEAR.

Childhood friends to lovers, science fiction, dystopia, FANTASY.

I'm upset again, the wound will never fully heal.

[hyumjim]

[wolfclad]

❛  fervent .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  after  a  fight .

Farkas despised battles of words. He was too slow in speech, too lacking in vocabulary to express the feelings that clawed their way out of his chest. What he could not voice was instead written into the features of his weathered, war painted face. Anger sprouted from hurt – that ugly, barbed seed – and left him seething.

Fortune had been on his side. A job had taken him deep into the pine-soaked, misty vales of Falkreath. As he made his return, nursing bloodied and bruises knuckles, he had caught their scent. Carried on a wind wet with the threat of rain – pipe smoke and leather, liquor and botanicals he could not name. In the moment it tickled his nose, he imagined he could still taste his own blood, that which had been spilled during their final, flint-edged kiss.

Dionisia.

His hunt ended in confrontation, in a reunion that burned white-hot, bringing them to a violent boil beneath boughs of dew-painted trees.

“You left.” Farkas snarled, pricked by the abandonment, by the rejection. The cut on his neck had healed in a thin red line – a parting gift from Dionisia’s blade – but it was the unseen and bloodless wounds that stung most sharply. “You left me.”

Fury simmered in his blood, a fire that spilled too easily into passion. He could not say exactly how he ended up kissing them, ferociously, skinning them like a rabbit. The tug and peel of leather saw their breeches bunched at their calves, their mound left bare. Farkas dropped to his aching knees, sinking into that thick carpet of pine needles, burying his face at the apex of their thighs, their cunt beneath the blade of his tongue.

Wicked, clever fingers dragged through the wild tangle of his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, scratching him like spurs. Farkas growled, turned his mouth to their thighs, feasting on blue-violet flesh. Teeth left them bruised and love-bitten, the coarse drag of his short beard giving rise to a dusky, moon-shadow flush.

Still unsatisfied, he soon dragged them down onto the damp earth and turned them about, using his strength to shamelessly position their limbs, their body, until they were on hands and knees. Thick, eager fingers then fumbled beneath his leather tassets, plucking at the strangling ties of his breeches until they loosened, until he was able to pull them down. Farkas was on them in an instant, mounting them in the manner of a stray mutt-dog. Rudely, he stuffed his aching cock inside them, his bear-paw hands seizing their hips, heaving them back onto every desperate thrust. It made for a furious rut, among the leaf litter and fungus, among all things green and mossy.

Breath escaped from between Farkas’ clenched teeth in ragged exhalations, steam leaking from the chinks in his steel armour as the fever of his blood burned bright and hot. He drove himself into them as though this physical joining would be enough to keep them united, as though the warm wet of their arousal would be enough to glue them together.

A broad hand curled around the back of their neck before thinking better of it, instead snaking around to hold their throat. There he squeezed, he lifted, bending them back until their back arched like a drawn bow. He wanted them looking at him. He wanted the intimacy of being face-to-face. Reflexively, his unoccupied palm rubbed over their thrust-out chest, seeking the apples of their breasts, only to be denied by the leather cuirass they still wore.

“Didn’t you miss this? Didn’t you miss us – ?”

[princehungergrowls2]

Graduating tomorrow🥳🎉🎊

( And yes I am extremely nervous... but also very happy)

[joe-zone]

[jockpoetry]

Jack McCoy talking about his father’s Big. Thick. Hands.