We Owe Everything To The Weird Little Horny Freaks On Ao3 And Artists On All Platforms Don’t Forget

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier’s expression shifts subtly—a change most wouldn’t notice, but you’ve learned to read him. His dark eyes focus entirely on you, any trace of his usual sleepiness vanishing instantly.

“That’s dangerous, giving me cues like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and unchanged in tone despite the intensity behind his words.

He closes the distance without warning, one hand cupping your face while the other slides around your waist, pulling you against him. There’s something possessive in the way his lips claim yours—deliberate and unhurried, yet leaving no room for retreat.

Time seems irrelevant as he deepens the kiss. For someone who typically appears so detached, his actions speak volumes, betraying the emotions he reserves only for you. When you attempt to pull back for air, he follows, unwilling to break contact.

“Not yet,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm. “I’m not done with you.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Zayne sits at his desk in his home office. He looks up, dark eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glasses. Without a word, he removes them carefully, placing them beside his laptop.

“I suppose I’m due for a break,” he says, pushing back from his desk.

He stands and gestures for you to come closer. When you reach him, his hands find your waist, guiding you against the edge of his desk.

The kiss starts measured, methodical—like everything else he does—but quickly deepens with underlying hunger. His fingers trace up your spine, cradling the back of your neck with surprising tenderness.

“Fifteen minutes,” he murmurs in between kisses. “That’s all I need to refresh before returning to these reports.”

But the way he pulls you closer, the subtle sweetness on his tongue from the candy he keeps hidden in his desk drawer, suggests he might extend his break after all.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon light streams through the studio windows, casting golden hues across Rafayel’s canvas. His paintbrush pauses mid-stroke, hanging suspended above vibrant blues and greens.

A smile spreads across his face as he sets his palette down. “And here I was thinking I’d need to convince you to distract me today.”

Paint-stained fingers carefully return the brush to its holder before he steps down from his step ladder. He allows you to make the first move, watching with fascination as you approach.

“For inspiration’s sake,” he whispers as your lips meet, though the way his breath catches suggests it’s more than artistic motivation driving him.

He lets you set the pace initially, responding to your lead with appreciative hums, his hands roaming your body. Then, something shifts—he’s in control.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, fingers finally tangling in your hair.

His kiss deepens—wild and untethered, like he might disappear with the tide if not anchored to this moment with you.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“What a bold request,” Sylus says, making no move to stand. Instead, he pushes his chair back slightly from the table, eyes never leaving yours. “If that’s what you want, come here and take it.”

The challenge in his voice is clear—he wants you to approach him, to claim what you desire. As you cross the room, his expression remains composed, though a certain hunger darkens his gaze.

When you settle onto his lap, his hands rest lightly on your hips, neither pulling nor pushing. “Well?” he prompts, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You made the request. I’m merely accommodating it.”

You initiate the kiss, setting a tentative pace that he follows without trying to accelerate. He restrains himself—a calculated decision to let you lead while he receives. Only when you deepen the contact does he respond in kind, his composure slipping just enough to reveal how much he’s been holding back.

“Good,” he breathes against your lips. “Now, show me what else you want.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment the words leave your mouth, Caleb’s expression darkens. He reaches past you to lock his bedroom door, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he backs you against the wall.

His lips find yours with urgent precision, one hand braced against the wall while the other cups your face. The kiss is consuming—a clear message that now that he has you, he won’t be letting go anytime soon.

You stumble backward as he guides you through his room, neither of you willing to break contact. Your back hits the wall next to his desk, and he cages you in with his arms, lips never leaving yours except for the briefest moments to catch your breath.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he confesses against your neck, voice ragged. His lips remain possessively on yours throughout the close-distance trip to his bed.

“Mine,” he whispers, pulling you down with him.

Another post upcoming for today 😼

Maison Margiela spring 2024 couture

Bumpin my art blog.

Been rewatching SSS Elden Ring vods and my love for her is eternal. My dearest Gerardine Slay. 

bro i LOVE indigenous fusion music i love it when indigenous people take traditional practices and language and apply them in new cool ways i love the slow decay and decolonisation of the modern music industry

I recently discovered laundry stripping and y’all, no matter how much of a crock of shit you think fast fashion is, you’re underestimating.

Foiled!

Today I got to go on one of our runs to more rural shelters to help relieve overcrowding there. We ended up bringing back 21 kittens and 10 dogs. So fun day. But this morning, while I was getting stuff together in preparation for the 90 minute drive…. This happened.

Excuse you Tiniest Opossum, but you are NOT allowed to escape through the front bars of the cat carrier we were housing you in. I’m going to put you back.

“NO!”

I am going to catch you and put you back and you have no say in this matter.

“NO!”

Catching you and putting you back now.

“NOOOOOO!”

Aaaand back you go. Let go of the purple towel and go in the cardboard box.

“Noooooooooooo!”

Black Menswear modelled by Black Men

Creative Director Rock Mitchell

different viewpoints

John Wick franchise needs to cast Yeji Kim (the actual literal best shooter in the world) immediately I'm so fucking serious