todebase

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* a ( taboo ) smut - driven roleplay blog .

written by rome , twenty3 , gtm-3 timezone .

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have had an concept idea for a few ocs for a while (like. 2 years or so?), thinking of making a separate multimuse just for them. bit of a silly, p.orno cliche kinda thing though, so i'll keep thinking abt it

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@suddenlyfag.

have had an concept idea for a few ocs for a while (like. 2 years or so?), thinking of making a separate multimuse just for them. bit of a silly, p.orno cliche kinda thing though, so i'll keep thinking abt it

[todebase]

have had an concept idea for a few ocs for a while (like. 2 years or so?), thinking of making a separate multimuse just for them. bit of a silly, p.orno cliche kinda thing though, so i'll keep thinking abt it

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Follow me for more.

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a good, god-fearing boy otherwise, cruising was a habit that simon couldn't seem to quit. sometimes, he'd just get that very specific urge ----- flashes of his knees on dirt or grubby bathroom tiles, the terrifying thrill of the hiding, the hungry glances men would throw at him. the randomness of the men, too; the shine of rings on their fingers, the athletic, casual or business clothing, the salty work-day sweat on their skin. it made his mouth water, and soon enough he'd found himself going back to it.

he was being greedy ---- he'd gotten his mouth used twice, his hair was a mess from the two different sets of hands pulling on it, and his cheeks were painted pink-red (breathlessness and some undiscreet, unwarned, but welcomed slaps). but then he heard steps coming in, and he could see the other through the branches and leaves; the sweat on his grey shirt, the bulge on his grey pants. simon was on his knees, and on his knees he stayed, as the other approached his spot. the ghost of a dirty smile creeping on his features drops at the sight; his stomach does a roll when he gets to see the other's face. “cian?”

not ideal to find your brother on a cruising spot. his heart is beating like war-drums on his own ears, there's a sinking feeling in his chest. and yet, simon stayed on his knees, watery blue eyes meeting his older brother's, unconsciously revisiting the bulge for just the tiniest moment.

open starter! cruising open to: males / nb / ftm muse: cian mac cumhaill plot: very standard one - cruising spot in the park, cian needs a quick release. but i'll give you extra love if you come up with twists or take it up a notch kinky wise. also, t*boo welcomed, etc.

Cian ran through the dirt path, the trees closing in around him. It was not his usual trail, but some days he was just too horny to take the main one. This was one of such days. He had even been daring enough to wear nothing under his sweatpants. He ran dressing all gray clothes, long sweatpants and an old sweatshirt. His cock, still soft, was clearly visible as he continued on his usual pace. The area he was looking for approached and he could already see one or another guy hanging around, checking him out. He did too, but he did not stop for any of them.

Once he reached a certain spot, he left the trail and entered in between the bushes and trees. He slowed down to a pace, sweat running down his forehead. He felt good. He felt alive. And he was ready to find a good mouth for his to use.

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eyes meeting his son's, he sighs. wonders if he even really knows simon. the kid kept his faggot side hidden for a long while, and jack, well ---- the worst blind is the one who doesn't want to see. already longing for another hole to shove his cock, he didn't want to see there was a perfect, made-to-fit option right under his roof. well, was his son lying about his virginal status? he wouldn't mind if the kid was experienced, it could even make things easier... but he doesn't think simon's lying. in any case, jack knows he'll know for certain quite soon.

“open your mouth, simon.” his words aren't cold, but there's an inflexible, firm tone to them. simon will open his mouth, willingly, or he'll be made to. when the kid obeys (of course he does; he's still his sweet boy, isn't he?), jack places a thumb on top of his son's tongue, cock hardening further at the feeling of the wet, soft surface. “suckle on it, and listen to me.”

he looks at his other hand, still resting on his boy's bare thigh, how big it looks in comparison to his young boy. he then wonders how red simon's skin will turn when slapped, and he bites his lip at the thought before continuing his train of thought.

“there's some things faggots like you need to know, son. if a man hasn't taught them to you yet, then i'll have to. and, actually, i'm glad i'll get to do it... here, feel how glad i am.” suddenly, his hand pulls his son's to the ever-growing bulge on his sweatpants. “do you feel it? don't stop sucking, kid, just nod with your head. can you feel how happy daddy is, to be your teacher?”

Simon was naked, with only a towel around his waist. He had just taken a shower, now standing in front of the mirror, while he finished drying his hair. He watched as his father entered his room, so he smiled and sat down next to him when he asked to talk. His body was so beautiful and skinny, with those pretty pink nipples and those plump pink lips just the same. Hearing that, Simon smiled broadly. “Thank you, Daddy. That means a lot to me,”

the kid commented, looking into his old father's eyes. Feeling his heavy, strong hand on his thigh, something about his father's crotch caught his attention. Was he seeing right? Was his father hard? The bulge was noticeable in his sweatpants. And hearing those words, the kiddo was speechless for a few moments. What did he mean by that? His lips faltered for a few moments. “What do you mean by that, Daddy?”

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“no problem at all, sir.” oliver says in a bashful tone, staring at the office's ceiling. and there really wasn't ---- by the same man who fingered him on the bus on his way to work, he was told he was a delectable, sweet-looking boy, and that he should share his pussy with whatever man asked for it, and he agreed. he didn't mind the sex, especially when he was pleasuring the ceo of the company he'd just gotten started as an intern in. he just thought it was an asshole move, when he believed they were sending him in for his possible termination or a shouting session, and would be getting a show out of it.

oliver didn't know it yet, but he'd soon be learning that mr. jones appetite ---- in particular for boys like him, sweet, young, tight ---- was a well-known phenomenon around the office; a spectacle, really.

“you're the boss, sir, of course...” his jeans and panties are pulled down, and there's a small gasp when he feels the cold air from the office hit his crotch. he continues talking, anticipation for the man's touch building in his stomach. “... 'course i'll obey you.” besides, he was a polite, enlightened young man. of course he'll obey when a man tells him he needs to use him as a stress-relieving toy. and be warm while doing it. “i can only imagine how hard you work to run this company is, sir.”

his fingers are tingling as he can feels it's about to happen: his legs are taken by a much bigger frame, muscled arms wrapping around his thighs, the man's words as a warm, warning breath over his pussy. then he realizes what the big boss said, of his possible soon-future as a de-stressing toy for the whole office. “they'll what- ah-” any possible interjection is cut and dead and gone when the boss starts to work his expert tongue on him. his hands close on tight fists, his breath fastens, his eyes go from wide open to closed shut with the unusual, delightful feeling.

men aren't typically too keen on eating oliver out: they fingered him in public spaces for a quick thrill before a 9 hour work day, professors kept him as a warm cocksleeve under their glass desks throughout class at uni, friends and strangers used him as a fleshlight at bars, parties or gyms for some extra fun, but rarely someone took their stress or had their fun by tonguing him as good and deep ---- “ah, sir, thank you...” he makes sure to keep his hands to himself, resist the urge to hold and pull the man's head closer and ever closer. he's the boss, he'll eat oliver out however he wants to.

like he was told to, the obedient boy doesn't even try to hold back: pretty little moans and whispers, high-pitched and breathy, thank-you and oh-gods, spill out into the office air; he can't even remember of their possible likely audience.

sending an intern to deliver the bad news would have annoyed him. although he was going to view this as a peace offering. his staff often times knew that in order to not get annoyed, he needed a pretty little thing in front of him that he could play with. maybe they all wanted him to sleep with oliver too. to give them all a show. what type of boss would he have been if he didn't take them up on their offer? "is that going to be a problem? i'm the boss around here, it's not like they're going to report us to hr or anything." a small smirk formed on his face. he almost wished that they dared to do something like that.

still, he was happy to see that ollie at least knew how to follow orders. "now that's a good boy. continue being this obedient and you might end up getting a full time job around here." clayton wasted no time in rolling his chair back to where the younger man was. he took off anything that was getting in the way of him and the younger man's pussy. then, he wrapped his arms around his thighs and looked up at him. "feel free to be as loud as you want. they might just come in and shove their cocks down your mouth." mr. jones leaned down, teasing ollie's core by running his tongue up and down his walls.

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"why are you gay?" silence. "chat, i'm homophobic now, but mainly towards austin." from our favorite turkish hunk.

“what?” barely computing the words, bit too focused on the video they're reacting to (of course he is), austin shakes his head, eyes going from screen to hunk hasan. “ugh, cancel him, chat.” jokery smirk on his lips, suddenly his hand is on hasan's arm; the bare bicep, firm flesh underneath his digits. eyes dart back to the screen, distracting himself from the feeling with the little words from the stupid usernames.

“yeah, he just beat me up, chat, just off-camera. he hate-crimed me, cancel him. your days of homophobia are over.”

cut to them off-camera, ten minutes before the stream. hasan's hand did come across his face, stronger each time; and he moaned girly and pretty for his bro every time, thanking him for each slap. hasan's on top of him, man-hand blocking his airways, fat turkish cock getting stroked right over his face, and tapped on it for good measure. austin's tongue out, throat spent, cock-stupid, his own drool wetting his red face. he wants nothing but cum. goonershow. FaggotShow.

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AARON TAYLOR-JOHNSON "KRAVEN THE HUNTER" — dir. J. C. Chandor (2024)

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he gives the other a dry chuckle, with another sip of the beer. the kid was cute, even so seemingly defiant and bratty; sawyer didn't worry, though. he'd be getting his dick wet, feel that small mouth struggling to take all of him once again, one way or the other. it was almost fun, whatever game the kid was playing. “sawyer, yeah... shit, i mean, i should be the one askin' ya'. you pullin' a prank on me, kid?” almost fun.

even if the kid's got this sudden, bothersome amnesia, it was still fun watching his embarrassed expression, flushing cheeks and unsure eyes. it pulled at something mean, sadistic inside of sawyer. hesitation in his tone, his eyes going wide at the dirty details. and, well, maybe the kid did forget it. maybe it was a medical condition, he fell and hit his head after their messy, sloppy encounter. he doubted this random kid he met and face-fucked on a seedy mid-west diner was just that good of an actor.

“oh, you did. maybe you've forgotten me, but...” he leans forwards, smirk growing on the sharp edges of his predator mouth, his voice lowering to abrasive, mean-spirited whispers. “you followed me in there, and got down on your knees without me havin' to ask. so don't play coy on me now.” his leg meets the boy's underneath the table; he wants to pin him down right there, fuck the disbelief out of him. he adds, just for the thrill of watching the kid's reaction: “i mean, i fucked your mouth like it's a cunt, kid.”

━⊱ he lifted his head the moment he heard his name it caught his attention immediately because how could this man know it, and yet feel like a complete stranger? nothing about his face sparked any recognition. ❝ what was your name again? samuel? no, wait— ❞ he squinted a little, genuinely trying. ❝ sawyer, right? ❞ still, nothing. if anything, it was the first time he’d heard that name.

he stayed quiet as the older man went on, detailing something that should've happened just a few days ago. but if it had, andrew would've remembered. he always remembered people, especially someone like him. but how did the other know his name? that was the mysterious part.

his eyes flicked to where the man pointed — the bathroom — and then back at him, now looking visibly more confused. ❝ i... i don’t think i’d just follow someone in there like that. ❞ his voice faltered. his fingers tangled in his hair as he dropped his head, the frustration bubbling up.

❝ i don’t know, maybe i’m just being dumb. is this like... a prank or something? ❞ he raised his face again, arms lifted behind his neck, fingers loosely interlaced, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and concern. ❝ i mean, i would've remembered you right away. that’s for sure. ❞ and he meant it. the man was attractive and definitely not the kind of person he would forget after just a few days but still... the story didn’t make sense — not to him. and maybe that’s what unsettled him the most. if it did happen... then why didn’t he remember?

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closed starter for @fortunetellsrp !

when his mom told him he'd had to pause his game to go over mr. and mrs. baxter to help out with the computer... well, it was his mom. so he took a deep breath, did his best not to punch a wall, and held back the many curse words he was thinking. and off to the neighbors' house he went. ethan didn't even know if he was able to fix the computer, and his mom had no information about that either. he was slowly accepting that he'd be wasting hours of his weekend trying to fix a mouse with bad contact or some stupid virus that mr. baxter caught trying to meet up with hot milfs in his area. he hoped for the second; at least hat'd be funny.

but, when he knocked on the baxters door, and was so warmly greeted by mr. baxter, he didn't want that anymore. his neighbor was just such a nice guy, telling him he was tall and so grown and that he can't believe ethan was now "a handsome young man... i'm getting so old, aren't i?!" he did his best to be polite, thanking him for the glass of water and complimenting the house. he realized it was actually very quiet for a four-kid household, and was told the kids were out with the mom. he imagined how tiring it must be, four kids. how did the guy handle it? then he was showed the computer, and was surprised to find a sleek-ish desktop.

even if the problem was self-infliged porn-virus, he couldn't help but felt bad for mr. baxter, whose computer was very slow for a few months now, and it has just been getting worse lately. and when he sat down to check what was the situation... fuck this computer is slow. he couldn't even believe the guy was living like this for months. he'd punch the monitor if it was his computer. so he started to check the usual stuff. ran a sturdy anti-virus, all good. so it didn't come from porn... good for mrs. baxter. as soon as he started going through files, he realized it was just full to the very brim.

he explains the situation to mr. baxter, trying to use his most polite young man voice and easy to understand words. then he used an app to figure out the areas that took up most space. among heavy games and big browser caches, there was a folder just named "pp," on which he clicked, and there was only one folder, named the very same thing. he did it again, and another "pp" folder. it was only on the fifth click that he realized what that was; what could possibly be so hidden, just one half-second before the thumbnails splash upon the screen.

“oh, shit...” porn. paul's porn, pp. dozens of pictures and videos, thumbnails with older, bearded men, white strings of semen covering their faces; pictures of men close to ethan's age, muscled torsos on display, flexing their arms, their big dicks hanging out of their sweatpants; file names like faggot dad gets bred, two young studs stuff their daddy, businessman creampied by frat bros. not far from a hormonal teen, ethan's quickly hardening in his shorts. for a quick moment, he endulges himself, grabbing his member through the fabric, mostly out of habit.

so the problem was porn, after all. his exclamation, not as discreet as should've been, calls the man into the room, and, before ethan can close and pretend he'd never seen it, mr. baxter is taking a look at his own wank-bank exposed to the neighbor's kid.

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Alan Ritchson photographed in Australia back in March

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Santino Benamati (santinobenamatiofficial)

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wanna cuddle nude and nuzzle my face into their neck and kiss them softly and revel in the feeling of skin on skin and doze off together with our hearts beating in sync

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ADAM DIMARCO

OVERCOMPENSATING The Edge of Glory