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an appeasement lick follows suit, the ball of a healing piercing roaming marred flesh in a final, gentle kiss. ❝ if they come out here, you're hearing it. ❞ he explains, simple & true, before bucking his hips in a rough drag, thanking the gods above for allowing the season to rid them of coarse jeans & layered sweaters. the fabric of their swimming trunks is thin & soft; perfect enough to elicit a brief groan. music to his ears. their dicks pulse & he finally shows them enough mercy to address it, grasping the meat of sasha's through his shorts. more turned on than he realized; the sensation is a relief, tingling warmth through his belly & thrumming into his skull. he grazes the warm velvety tip with his fingers, patient, almost taunting. it's a surefire way to distract sasha from the initial mission. he wants to stay hard without spoiling himself too soon; he has plans, he wants to feel the slick heat inside of sasha for himself before all is said & done. ❝ i want this off. ❞ he instructs, letting precum drip through the web of inked digits before crushing their mouths together, letting the other man figure it out. letting him try his best to focus on the command & relishing in the bruising kiss littered by the slick spit of tongue that tastes every inch of indica that had been inhaled beforehand.
𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 across wolf's freckled face has sasha hyena-cackling, somehow having been spared from the onslaught — probably because wolf's body has acted as a shield, but nevermind the details — & he makes quick work of helping to wipe away the mess of it. it's not long before he's swiping the pad of his thumb over the arch of the younger's brow for no reason other than to touch him, a fond smile pulling at plush lips as he's complimented — preening like a cat that's been petted down the length of its back, a flattered flush creeping up his bare chest & arriving swiftly at the apples of his cheeks a moment later. the same comment would have him sneering at anybody else — but from his love, it's a shot of pure dopamine straight to the brain. an addiction, through-and-through. they've been this way for some years now, & it never gets old; feeling like he's won every time wolf looks at him like that. like he's the bane of his existence & the center of his universe, all at once, wrapped neatly into one five-foot-ten frame. “ i did put on sunscreen, ” he insists, stubborn as usual, one delicate hand skating its way up the plane of wolf's bare stomach, broad chest, over the peak of wide shoulders. so much skin laid out before him, & he's sure it's obvious, the way his gaze grows hungry at the sight of it. he's never been subtle, but the weed makes him completely indecent about it — leaning forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the jut of wolf's collarbone, making his leisurely way towards the curve of his neck. “ when we got here. i'll be fine. ” nevermind the fact that it's been hours, & he's growing pinker by the second; a sunburn is the least of his concerns as of ten seconds ago. a contented sound as he feels the press of lips to his cheekbone, nose, & chin — a match, kindling & gasoline, fueling him to curl lithe arms around his lover's neck, pulling him in & down as he flattens onto his back once more. “ the best, ” he purrs, nuzzling his nose against wolf's, eyes drooping in delight as he draws in the delivered smoke like it's an instinct he was born with. exhales it off to the side, but wastes no time in continuing to brush their lips together, like breathing wolf's air is the one & only objective he has in life ( which, to be fair, isn't far off from the truth ). “ remind me to thank your parents when we go back in, yeah ? ” a lazy kiss stolen off wolf's lips, then, arms tightening python-like, pulling, trying his damndest to get the younger closer, hell — on top of him if it's necessary. “ not now, though. later. ” if it wasn't clear enough by the way he lets one hand roam up into the fluffy hair at the back of wolf's head, anchoring itself there & tugging, while the other begins a meandering journey southwards, starting with his chest.
#actlly getting 2 use these gifs . . .#fawkin monumental m8 .#* ━━ w. wagner › colloquy.#* ━━ colloquy › ft : sasha.#refuse to tag as n s fw bc i dont want my blog banned pls n fank yew <3 also no one is lookin anyway . unless .. ? ay
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there's the skill of observation that one might suggest comes only from those who train themselves for it, with tactful eyes & the penchant for gaining the upper hand in a situation. yet, the vizier, with calm disposition & casual attire, is naturally adept in reading the room — those who fill it with an energy they bathe themselves in prior & waft as they walk by. brown hues pick up on every hollow glance & blush of cheek until an idea of what an individual may be like is pieced together in the back of his brain, intensely so should there be even a sliver of attraction. no matter how mild, how subtle. this conversation for example, could end, should the opposite party choose to dismiss it; simply walk away. choices he'd always silently offer, though ones they'd hardly take. however there's a certain will for this one. a certain plead in softening eyes that beckons aleksei to stay a little longer than he should. the russian's own expression of indifference does nothing to dissuade him, in fact, it serves to allure further. tenfold by the way the dessert is quickly removed from his hands & bitten into, teeth marking the same spot his own were in just seconds before. delightful. a grin, as far & wide as pink lips would allow it. a shameless interest that confirms his suspicion. a green light. ❝ i can be whatever i am told to be. ❞ a reference to his place of power of course. nothing more . . . ❝ i count on my flexibility. my voracity in acclimating to any position necessary. ❞ a flute is offered by a passing tender, taken with a quick thank you as he washes down any remnants of chocolate. thick lashes peer over its rim. a swallow as he hisses, tongue clicking against straight teeth. ❝ how rude of me, i didn't quite catch your name. ❞ leaning spine straightens out as he places the glass down, moving in closer to fight the rise of noise that threatens to drown out any response.
the other's suggestion makes him bristle, setting his nerves alight in instinctual protest. a knee-jerk reaction ; a soul-deep penchant for remaining isolated ( and perceived as such ) to stave off the real culprit of the discomfort he feels while witnessing intimacy: his loneliness. ❝ yes, well. my rhythm is all mismatched meters and tempos. ❞ there it is again ; that habitual rejection of his own likability, turning his nose up at the very idea that anyone might ever enjoy his presence. his eyebrows furrow as the other plucks his beloved from the tower of pastries, and a wave of possessiveness washes over him — an old dog watching a treat dangle just beyond his muzzle. ❝ and what of you? ❞ he asks, icy gaze meeting honey-warm hues for the first time. his fingers twitch, just once, with the impulse to TAKE, and the signal reaches his brain a moment later — he smoothly reaches to pluck the macaron from the other's hand, bringing it to his own lips to take a bite. ❝ are you difficult, or easy? ❞ head tilts just a few degrees to the side, gaze calculating and curious.
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those dimples ! that smile !
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Jung Ho-yeon as Kang Sae-byeok in Squid Game (2021–)
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Odessa A'zion in HELLRAISER (2022), directed by David Bruckner.
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I am a real stylist. Of course you are, mi amor.
Gossip Girl (2021-). Y Lu’s Mama Tambien.
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Corteon Moore as ELLIS STEVENS FROM, 2x03 "Tether"
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enzo vogrincic 🌹
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*me, literally sick with want* whatever
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they're pulling away, inked digits lingering over diego's chest in a pleasurable roam, taking map of such vastness. doe eyes glance through dark lashes, a mutter of encouragement for the man that pauses with clear anxiety for oncoming declaration. ❝ digame, ❞ he coaxes, ears open & alight for the fire that threatens to burn the taller man's throat. still, vero had always been vero. without shame. with a shimmer & then a glitter refracting against diego's pupils, slits distinguishing growing lights that consume the ocean floor in a symphony of colors. like a kitten, bell jangling around soft tufts of spotted fur, flexing its small claws & ready to jump as a laser pointer flickers across wooden flooring, vero's gasping; leaving his lover's confession lost in the wind that blows synchronized sea creatures around in a ballerina's concierto. ❝ no mames. ❞ a low whisper. he's turning around with a hurried step of boots, nearly launching himself over the deck once more, eyes black marbles in the depths of his skull as he stares. a childlike wonder overtaking the usual salacious gaze reserved for those who pursued him in a carnal fashion. the real boy who had hidden himself for decades, uncaged & released back into the wild with a hearty grin: a wolf boy on all fours. ❝ mira los de ahí ! parecen un paquete de skittles ! ❞ as he points to the colorful group a few metres out.
closed starter ⇢ 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖔 𝖉𝖊 𝖑𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆. ( @aresenics ! )
𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . . summer 2006 on a borrowed sailboat, around 10pm.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐗 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐁𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐄 into the place where it rests against his chest even through two layers of fabric, tucked safely within the pocket of his flannel — a sharp contrast provided by the press of cool metal in the form of the cross he's worn since he was a child, nestled just a few inches away against his sternum. the difference in temperature grounds him, keeps him tethered to the here & now despite how he could vibrate out of his skin at any moment. a cool, clear night & calm waters set a serene backdrop for what's about to happen — what vero has no idea is about to happen. in retrospect, this wasn't diego's wisest of plans. practically trapping his beloved — flighty, uncontainable vero, skittish & wily by nature — on a boat out in the middle of the bay so he can pop the question. diego knows little about where vero came from, but wherever it was, it ingrained within him an instinctual need for means of egress — always with his back to the corner, dark eyes flitting around in calm cautiousness. it should chill him, but instead, diego finds a warmth flooding from his fingertips to his cheekbones at the idea of vero bending one of so few rules he has in order to spend a night with him on a borrowed, worn-down sailboat. “ they should be visible soon, ” diego calls, voice strained as he pulls the last sail in, stationing the boat amongst a sandbar. he hopes — prays — that he's chosen the right night. it's only once a year, & he's gotten it wrong before. meticulous planning & several pairs of eyes ( in the form of his meddling sisters ) keeping careful watch of the weather leaves him fairly confident that this is it. he moves, perhaps a little bashfully, to the bow of the boat where vero stands, leaning over the railing to peer into the water. diego — still shy, somehow, even after a year of learning each other — sidles up behind him, curling one strong arm around the smaller's waist to gently tug him backwards. “ i'm afraid you'll fall, ” an admission that comes out meek, as if it's an apology for even attempting to control vero's movements. a concealed adjustment of his shirt serves as a subtle attempt to assure the ring is still safe in its temporary home — the press of the box into his ribs assures him so. a careful move to spin vero in his arms, an awestruck little smile on his face; he wonders if his eagerness betrays him, if it's obvious that his nerves are alight with anticipation. regardless, he leans down for a kiss, overcome with a devotion so intense that he simply can't go without verbalizing it any longer: “ mi amor, ” words pressed almost urgently into vero's lips before he pulls away to speak, forehead resting gently against the other man's temple. “ i know it hasn't been long . . . ” . . . & if he wasn't so enraptured with the man in front of him, he might've more quickly caught sight of the way the water around them begins to glow.
#* ━━ v. de la rosa › colloquy.#* ━━ colloquy › ft : diego.#lsiten . . .. . . u knew i was a yapptron . yk who tf i was . this is ur fault actlly . <3#t1: are you sure they're even real ? they sound like something out of a fishermen's tale.#cont: you know how i feel about those.#t2: you dont have to make up stories to get me alone diego.#t3: no fucking way.#t4: look at those over there ! they look like a pack of skittles !
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there's a yip & mottle of fur that zooms past them at the question, thick fur accosting them both with the splash of dirty water & sand, an irritable furrow of brows thrown in the russian's direction. ❝ i'd say so, yeah, ❞ he mutters, wiping at the remnants that sprinkle across his nose, blending with the sunspots that rise. the sentiment of sasha's yearning after a mere forty minutes doesn't go unnoticed, yet he moves past with a nervous hum ( still getting the hang of accepting such sweet verbiage ) & letting their eyes meet. wolfram's plucking the joint & inhaling with a vigor only met by the intensity of sasha's everpresent want, knowing full & well that the heartbeat threatening to stampede through his chest makes his skin all the more hotter. the coast had done the older man good. really good. added a natural pink to his cheeks, a tanner tone to once porcelain flesh. ❝ you look . . . . nice," he states, as calmly & factual as he would anything else. thick fingers push loose curls behind his ear, languid in their movements. ❝ but it won't stay that way if you don't put on sunscreen, huh ? ❞ he reprimands, eyebrow lifted & leaning close. a lie, of course. he's sure the youngest lukin is a figure molded by something divine & everlasting, sculpted with the intention to be admired by the masses decades from now & beyond, when he himself is long gone. a press of lips against sasha's cheek, then the slope of his nose, & at the bone of his chin, syrupy smooth as he tilts his head up to blow a ring of smoke through his lips. ❝ havin' a good time ? ❞
closed starter . . . wolfram wagner. @aresenics !
setting. . . the beach. summer 2024.
𝐒𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 the space between sharp shoulder blades as he lies back on the beach towel they'd sprawled out upon their arrival, a fresh joint caught between plush lips & two empty beer bottles nestled into the sand nearby. forty-five minutes under the afternoon sun coupled with the bit of alcohol in his bloodstream equals piebald skin rapidly turning various shades of pink, flushed from his forehead to the dappled span of his chest. long fingers snatch the roll & his arm drops lazily to the side as he inhales sharply, eyes shut, breathing out a smooth cloud of smoke a few moments later. the heat has him feeling spectacularly sleepy — even more so than usual — feels like he could doze off at any moment now, with the peaceful soundtrack of the ocean lapping at the shore some fifty feet away & the most perfect breeze cooling his flushed skin. this is the real vacation. ten days on the coast in wolfie's parents' house sounded lovely on its own, but this — this is what he'd truly been looking forward to. the serenity of a beach town; being far, far away from the city ( that he'll start to bemoan about missing right around the halfway point of their vacation ); the lack of schedule, cozied up in bed 'til two in the afternoon & staying up 'til five gazing up at the stars they never get to see back home; the way the dogs seem to know, too, that this is a special occurrence. speak of the devil — sasha's eyes blink open at the incoming symphony: panting, paws pattering, collars jingling as the dogs bound towards him, returning from their walk down the length of the beach. sash lifts his head & grins, props himself up on his left elbow, cooing to greet the dogs as they shove their noses in his face, kicking sand onto the blanket. “ мои милые. ” a hand on each of their fuzzy heads, scratching behind their ears as they snuffle at him, pulling a boisterous laugh from his chest before they tumble off to engage in yet another wrestling match. approaching not far behind them is the north star itself — or, at least, sasha's equivalent of such a thing — & he beams at the sight of the man, sitting up a bit more & reaching an arm up to lazily grab at wolfie once he's close enough, tugging him down, insistent & greedy in his affection as always. “ baby, ” he sing-songs, pressing his forehead to the side of wolfie's face, pressing in close despite the way the heat radiating off of the other man is near-unbearable with the sun beating down on the both of them. sasha doesn't care. he'd boil alive if it meant staying plastered to wolfie's side for five whole minutes. “ i missed you. did they like the water ? did they swim ? ”
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hbd aria shahghasemi ♡ october 7, 1996
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ANGELINA JOLIE interviewed by Ryan Seacrest (2009)
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#and she’s right
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GOSSIP GIRL (2021) 1.12 “Gossip Gone, Girl”
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GOSSIP GIRL (2021) - 1.07 “Once Upon a Time in the Upper West”
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