almost home
JVL
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Kiana Khansmith
trying on a metaphor
pixel skylines
Mike Driver
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
izzy's playlists!
occasionally subtle
★
YOU ARE THE REASON
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Sade Olutola
Stranger Things
Peter Solarz
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
@homoscribe
How did I get so lucky? You are like a combination of my favourite things, buddy
Henry Tobias Jackson, created and rebooted by GEM (34, He/Him, GMT)
An original character, flirting with many different genres, but always gay, gay, gay. Plot and smut-centric in equal measure. Writing is a hobby, not a career. I won't apologise for my erratic brain or libido.
Minors do not interact. Mun and Muse 21+.
About :: Rules :: Adult stuff
*Gifs courtesy of @harleystuff and @artreso
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Spider-Man: Brand New Day (2026) Directed by Destin Daniel Cretton
I used to write multiple characters, lengthy posts, detailed backgrounds, dozens of novel-style posts per day. As soon as I went on anti-depressants to help me mentally, all that disappeared, only to return in short, sharp bursts. I used to be a good writer. I overthink things when I'm sober. In fact, when I'm pilled up and plied with booze nowadays, my writing seems to be better than when I'm sober. But then, I think that might be the case with other folk who have an iota of talent with writing.
I haven't been active in a while. I could blame health, or certain anniversaries. Ultimately, I will just admit that my muse for writing is very fickle. I love interacting with you all, and have constant ideas running through my head. It just takes a lot of energy and motivation for me to write a mediocre character. So, yeah, thanks for following and showing interest, but the average content I put out on this account takes a lot out of my tired, old, f*cked up brain.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Excellent! I assume you have a notion of where he might be…”
I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF! I NEEDED HIS LITTLE DANCE AT THE END SO BADLY!!!
Just saw Harry Styles' performance at the Brits. I want nothing more than to be married to him.
Patrick’s knees nearly gave when Henry’s hand closed around him—warm, sure, the perfect pressure that made his hips jerk forward into the slow, deliberate slide.
The younger man's response was encouraging of Henry's advances. The copious slick produced from turgid flesh, the gentle stroke at the shell of his ear and the palm pressed flat against his neck all conveyed Patrick's permission for Henry to escalate their intimacy.
The strong, moist tip of his tongue teased a gentle swipe at Patrick's leaking slit, tracing a firm line around the sensitive, engorged head. The pulsing excitement in response to his slow, firm strokes invited the heat of his mouth to wrap around the thick length.
Henry savored the light, salty, flavor of Patrick's essence, dark eyes searching Patrick's for his continued consent. The quiet room soon filled with the sound of hungry slurping and pitiful moans as the older man continued, his own length hard and pulsing in the cool night air.
With expert precision of hands, mouth and throat, Henry began to stimulate Patrick's length, the deep burn of desire building in his own stomach. His balls were tight, heavy, demanding, but his own need for release would wait patiently until the younger man was in his own state of bliss.
How did I get so lucky? You are like a combination of my favourite things, buddy
Henry Tobias Jackson, created and rebooted by GEM (34, He/Him, GMT)
An original character, flirting with many different genres, but always gay, gay, gay. Plot and smut-centric in equal measure. Writing is a hobby, not a career. I won't apologise for my erratic brain or libido.
Minors do not interact. Mun and Muse 21+.
About :: Rules :: Adult stuff
*Gifs courtesy of @harleystuff and @artreso
Please let me find dirty smut involving a stressed Dean Winchester and naive Stiles Stalinski
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
So the modern world now depends on Internet access. You have to pay a fortune in a lot of cases, yet it's a privatised industry that is very unreliable. All my depressed assed brain wants to do is write fanfic smut and objectify hot guys 🙄
Finally got my Internet fixed (fingers crossed).
Yesterday I heard God say, 'It's in your blood.'
Evan Peters as Todd Haynes in Kick-Ass (2010)
Henry was a cute dork in high school
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Patrick’s breath hitched the moment Henry’s lips brushed the bare skin just below his navel. The heat of that first kiss sent a slow, liquid shiver racing up his spine, making the fine hairs along his arms stand on end. He tipped his head back slightly, eyes fluttering half-closed, letting the sensation anchor him while his fingers—still clumsy with liquor and want—fumbled at the button of his trousers.
Henry took control. His tongue traced gentle lines along the sensitive nerves sitting atop sculpted muscle, his hands taking hold of Patrick's before taking care of the younger man's attire himself.
The heavy clasp and thick leather of Patrick's belt hit the ground with a dull thump, revealing smooth, toned thighs and underwear straining against his impressive bulge. The tightness of Henry's own groin grew more uncomfortable, the kisses and strokes of his tongue now leaving slick trails as he caught wind of Patrick's musk.
His middle fingers hooked under the waistband of Patrick's underwear, tugging firmly to reveal a neat bush and, inch by inch, the thick length of pulsing flesh that fought for freedom caught Henry's surprise.
He rocked backwards, allowing Patrick's length to spring free in all its glory, his gaze still focused on the approval reflected in that of his guest's. The thick, smooth flesh of his right palm engulfed the tumescent length, long fingers wrapping around its thickness, and slowly he began to tease and stroke.
“Lucky me.”
“A drink?” he echoed softly.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
“You are painfully committed to being well-mannered, Henry.”
He stepped closer.
Not rushed.
Not shy.
Close enough now that the space between their chests felt deliberate.
Patrick reached out and gently caught Henry’s wrist mid-button.
Just to stop him.
Just to look up at him.
“I’m already a little drunk,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “On you. On the night. On the fact that you made sure I was safe before you made me feel like this.”
A quiet beat.
His thumb brushed Henry’s pulse.
Steady.
Fast.
“But,” Patrick added, softer — honest in that dangerous way, “if you pour one… I’ll take it after.”
He leaned in and kissed him again.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A kiss meant to make time bend instead of disappear.
Even in the warm-glow of Henry's hotel room, Patrick's confidence with Henry deciding to let him take the lead for a moment or two. He paused, dark gaze meeting the younger man's, his own expression playful, but surprised. “Us Southern boys are always well-mannered.” Henry's accent shifted, each word spoken in a deep, Southern drawl. The alcohol made it easy to shed the carefully curated 'professional accent' he'd spent years perfecting.
He allowed Patrick's fingers to explore as they kissed, each stood in the middle of the room, intoxicated by one another more than the alcohol.
“Later then.” Henry mumbled against Patrick's lips, a firm hold on each hip guiding them towards the bedroom. Awkwardly, he kicked off his shoes, managed to remove one sock before the rear of his thighs connected with the foot of the bed.
He positioned Patrick to stand between his spread legs as he sat on the soft bedding, his hands working expensive fabric upwards to expose the smooth, toned abdomen he'd been caressing all night.
With his dark gaze still fixed on his guest's, Henry began peppering Patrick's stomach with soft kisses, following the curve of every taut muscle, distracting Patrick from his efforts to loosen up and remove his pants.
