iconless, 18+, selective & mutuals only, rated r for mature content and dark themes.
penned by bender. 26. he/him.
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roma★
$LAYYYTER

Andulka
Xuebing Du
occasionally subtle
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.

Product Placement

Discoholic 🪩
NASA

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
YOU ARE THE REASON

⁂

Kaledo Art

pixel skylines
Claire Keane
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin
seen from Italy

seen from Australia
seen from Canada
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seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Indonesia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Japan
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Germany
@soulscaptured
iconless, 18+, selective & mutuals only, rated r for mature content and dark themes.
penned by bender. 26. he/him.
home | ask box | guidelines | muses

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Will Sharpe as Ethan Spiller in The White Lotus S2 'That's Amore'
@hearthtales
she's been here before. ( she doesn't remember when, or why, but she doesn't remember much these days. ) she wanders along the water's edge, watching it rush past, deep in thought, almost dizzy from the effort of reflection.
she wanders into the woods, leaves crunching beneath her feet, fingertips seeking the sensation of bark, using the trees to keep her balance and root her sense of direction.
there's someone there when she looks up again; a young boy. she blinks in surprise and adjusts her backpack on her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she clings to the strap over her chest to stay present. "hello?" ( she almost isn't positive she knows what she's seeing. ) "where are we?"
“Ten years? Wow.” That was surprising, because the starkness of this house made it all look brand new. “I’ve only been doing this for about a year now, but, um… I’ve retained all my clients so far.” Her tongue snakes out briefly to wet her lips before she takes another sip. “Well, I would be happy to help her if… if you hire me, of course.”
“Oh, no, go ahead.” She gives a motion of her hand. “I used to smoke but I quit… kind of.” Her lips purse in an attempt to stop her from smiling. “I’m aaa… what do they call it? A social smoker?”
With a brief pause, she’s looking around the room again – noting the different art pieces, the décor choices. Not a speck of dust anywhere that she can see. It was almost like the space wasn’t even lived in – like it was just for show.
“So, um, what days does your current housekeeper work?” Her eyes return to him as she reminds herself to smile and stop looking so damn awkward. “I have, um…” Reaching into the bag she’d brought with her, she pulls out a little calendar that’s been meticulously done – no scribbles, no notes on it; kept clean and perfectly organized. “…my current schedule, if you’d like to look at it.” Hesitantly, she holds it out in his direction.
Every day is marked with something in strict time slots. “I can always combine some of those days for my other clients if needed.” Maybe she’s getting a little ahead of herself, but she’s trying to be proactive… to show she’s serious without coming across as desperate.
harrison pulls a detailed silver cigarette case from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pops it open.
he smirks as she speaks, plucking out a hand-rolled european cigarette from the selection and tucking it between his lips before he extends the case to her, a simple raise of his eyebrow posing the question.
he accepts her answer nonverbally and tucks the case away, lighting up with an equally ornate zippo.
he leans in to look over the calendar she showcases, peering over it attentively, deep in thought as he inhales for an impressive length of time.
he exhales as he draws back and shrugs his shoulders. "i think she'd be happy to have weekends off," he acknowledges, moving toward a fireplace in the room to lean against the mantle and skim his finger over the surface in search of dust, harvesting a meager bounty. "i also have the space to offer you lodging." he says, shifting back toward her to ash in the abstract, vintage-looking glass tray at her side. "if you're interested in that."
It's in moments like these when Augustine genuinely MISSES some of the earlier content they made together without a tv crew. Just them, their equipment, shitty cameras, and a creepy, supposedly haunted location. " You've got a hell of a lot of talent in my eyes, mate. " He laughs a little behind the camera at the expression he makes from the flash being on him so suddenly, zooming out as he reaches out to gently pinch one of Nemo's cheeks. " There's that smile. " Augustine soon lets out a groan of defeat however as the camera is snatched away from him. He'd probably never wind up seeing that footage, but that's fine, he knows Nemo is much more comfortable filming than he was on camera. It was something he understood and RESPECTED, but it didn't mean he wasn't above some playful teasing.
Augustine gives a few CLAPS of his hands, glancing over his shoulder at the windows behind him. " Eugh, yeah that's...lovely. Perfect way to open back up though. If you saw a spider trying to divebomb me you'd warn me, right? "
he tips his head to the side, questioning the complimentary sentiment and silencing any further argument. he snorts a bit as he continues to tease him, swatting harmlessly at his hand and drawing back from the playful interaction, eager to get back to work.
nemo balances the lighting using a few lightweight key and fill lights he's had hawks carting around all night, checking the sound set-up and glancing up past augustine to see if he can catch a glimpse of their colleague before he starts using their equipment.
"you screaming like a girl would make the take unusable," he says instead of simply answering him. "okay... camera rolling... sound... go in 5... 4..." he lets augustine finish the count himself and returns to his place behind the camera to watch.

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if you want to feel the same ... well, swing on by .
independent, highly selective, private . oc driven & canon enthusiastic ( fandoms include 𝙅𝙐𝙅𝙐𝙏𝙎𝙐 𝙆𝘼𝙄𝙎𝙀𝙉, 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙋𝙄𝙀𝘾𝙀,𝘽𝙐𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙏 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉, 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙀𝘿, 𝘿𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙊𝙉 𝙈𝙀𝙎𝙃𝙄, 𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙎 & 𝙅𝙊𝙃𝙉 𝙒𝙄𝘾𝙆 ) — dragged by goose
@swallowrot
oh, it was a long night last night and she is feeling it today. it's one of those afternoons where you can feel your eyebags the weight of your lids is so heavy, where your head hurts in a way that tickles your sinuses ( almost at the edge of illness ).
she's checking out at the liquor store with a pack of american spirit golds, a bottle of moscato, a can of folgers instant coffee and three packages of hostess powdered donuts when an adorable whippet approaches her with some aggressively friendly energy.
she laughs and offers a hand for the animal to sniff, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. "hey, cutie pie."
making some quiet changes to my muse list due to some shift in inspo
namely: updating bell's faceclaim to make him trans and replacing harold and aspen with two new muses
"Definitely, baby." Billie unfolds herself from the stool, long legs only the more emphasised by her short skirt (which will be made even shorter when she climbs onto the back of the bike, not that she minds).
She also doesn't really care about a helmet - would probably prefer to go without one, given how it would mess up her hair. Following him through the bar, Billie leans in a little. "Anyone ever tell you motorbikes are hot?"
the young man has to bite back the impulse to wolf whistle as he sees those legs in action; instead, he licks his teeth again and bites hard on his bottom lip.
he wraps an arm around her waist as if they were steady partners instead of a one night stand and leads her out front with undue pride, his hand slipping down to her hip to grip it as she speaks. "you're fucking hot," he purrs in her ear.
within twenty minutes, they're back at his apartment building. he shows her up to his floor and when they're just outside his door, he pulls her in for a slightly sloppy kiss, one hand slipping up her back and the other venturing down to push up her skirt, guiding her up against the wall.
It's storming, it's cold, and within the confines of his own cabin, it is a lovely evening to get some errands done.
( He's swept the floor, folded that bin of laundry he'd been putting off, hole-punched and filed away some errant research notes, reorganized his surgical supplies... )
The cold is naturally repulsive to insects ; it's that which burrows through Noland's skin, seeps into his joints, lulls the cold-blooded like him to a sound sleep, only to wake up once the world heats up again. And so, on a night like tonight, he's shoved off any fieldwork -- and instead he basks within the comforting warmth of his space heater, the idly radiating heat of his heat lamp that hangs above the operating table in the centre of his cabin. He basks, hunched over a stove-top with a canning pot of bubbling, boiling water. Eyes lined with crows feet stare in focus at a pair of small mason jars being sterilized, a little pair of tongs held loosely in the same hand whose wrist is freshly bandaged.
Crystalline wings so gently, so lazily flutter in the added humidity the steam has brought to the space, and those chitinous plates that run along his upper back certainly appreciate the extra moisture in the air -- while his auxiliary hands lay crossed over his stomach, the right hand idly pulling at the skin of his left elbow.
( The window above the kitchen sink lay cracked, just the tiniest amount, to help vent some of the steam -- his antennae picking up the subtle airflow. The sounds of heavy rainfall against the roof, against the leaves and branches and forest floor outside, soothe something within Noland's brain... )
There's a knock on the door -- and Noland JOLTS from the idle thoughts he'd been distracting himself with, he's always caught off guard by unexpected guests! Those tongs are set down on a folded tea towel, his footsteps falling heavy against the hardwood floor as a hand reaches for his heavy cloak by the door. Throws it over his shoulders, tucks those insectoid wings down beneath -- fingers incessantly run through his hairline to try and brush those twin antennae back, but there's no hiding those pesky feelers!
With his lowest arms folded behind his back, out of sight beneath heavy fabric, the door slooowly creaks open -- his body blocking the view into the cabin beyond, his unnaturally aged gaze falling down onto a young person stood just beyond the threshold. A park ranger.
( In a dirty, soaked uniform -- and his sensitive eyes can make out the movement of something, of an insect on the young fellow's collar. A little hitchhiker sharing the cover of that umbrella, perhaps unbeknownst to the ranger himself? )
A smile does spread over his face -- but it's a tense one, clearly marked by a tad bit of annoyance that peers through. You're interrupting my personal time!
"Can I help you with anything, warden?" A cold wind through the trees seems to pierce the fabric of Noland's outfit, and he's already yearning to step back into the warmth of his cabin. "I do believe it's quite late in the evening to go knocking at private residences."
bug is growing so overwhelmed by the elements that he can't quite bring himself to be shocked by the other man answering the door. ( he had had every reason to believe the lodge might be inhabited after all, although the manner of its inhabitance and the inhabitant weren't quite what he might have expected, had he taken the time to guess. )
instead of hesitating or investigating, he takes in a deep breath and raises his voice above the howling of the wind. "hey! sorry to bother you," finding himself oddly breathless, they chug through their next thought much faster. "i didn't realize this was private property."
they go to show the other their copy of the map but lose the battle against the storm and give up on the idea, folding it into sections and tucking it back into his jacket pocket. "would you mind if i came inside for a bit? just until the rain dies down."

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She is so susceptible to a pretty face.
And what harm could it do, to let him taste her? They'll both get what they want - in more ways than one, if she can coax him into bed.
(His overbearing, cold nature from before is forgotten, now that he's worked out how to play her a bit better).
"Not here." She murmurs - almost like a promise. "Take me back to yours?" Wary as she is about what his place might look like, Billie's certainly not taking him back to her nest.
weylin's smirk softens into a satisfied smile. ( he knew she'd give in. ) he probably shouldn't have gotten so aggressive in the first place, but he really can't help it; it happens whether he wants it to or not. "sure, baby," he says smoothly.
"my bike's around the corner," he adds. "you cool with riding on the back? i should have a helmet for you and shit." ( unless the last chick lost it. whatever, she can always use his. )
fleabag ( she/her ) - bug's flea-infested baby girl.
@soulscaptured asked: you're so handsome when i'm all over your mouth. ( bug @ rebel )
Wet crimson paints Rebel's mouth like the maw of some sort of carnivore who just consumed its fresh kill. He HUNGERED, always hungered when it came to Bug to the point of it being a needy ache deep in his guts and bones. Lately it was making him undoubtedly sick to eat flesh however, so he's been opting for the next best thing in leaving gnarly bites that drew blood from the other. The metallic taste of it was enough to settle his cravings down, as if here were a vampire rather than a human being. While his consumption of people was done strictly out of habit and tradition prior to meeting Bug, it had quickly snowballed into an outright OBSESSION with his partner specifically. No one else compared and he's sure on his life that no one ever would again.
" You wanna taste? " Rebel mumbles as he draws back from Bug's shoulder, gulping down a mix of saliva and blood before flashing them a red-stained grin. Fingers LINGER against his partner's jaw and he leans in to close the gap between their mouths, kissing him with a steady tenderness, as if he didn't just get done making them bleed. " Mm, looks like I got ya good this time. Lemme grab the first-aid kit. You just stay there lookin' pretty, alright? " Maybe he should consider buying a second one for occasions like these that lead them into the bedroom so he didn't have to leave their side.
bug remembers how all this started, having itching skin blessedly removed for his partner's eager tongue to taste and teeth to consume; the methodical violence of it all was so intimate and tender, like their own unique form of lovemaking, ( a somehow more profound intermingling of their bodies ). but lately, rebel is sick, and feeding on his flesh leaves him laid up for hours on end, sometimes days.
selfishly, he misses it, being consumed so totally by his lover, having patches of fresh, untouched skin, spending long periods of time in recovery, being drugged up and unconditionally attended to; it was perfect.
these vampire bites weren't the same. ( it staved them both off, but it wasn't satisfying. deep down, they think they both know that. )
still, he kisses rebel back with deep passion and adoration, letting the blood transfer to his own mouth before he licks his lips to taste the familiar iron.
he moans lowly in response to the flavor then whimpers softly as his partner pulls away from them. "mmm, okay." he hums distractedly.
they're grateful to be bleeding, especially as they're left alone and they can feel their skin crawling with fleas again, leaping to dig into the rare bits of unbroken flesh on his legs and arms, causing him to squirm uncomfortably.
Billie bares her fangs at him when he sweeps her hair back. The problem is that she is hungry. Or thirsty, as he wants to call it. As much as she doesn't want to drink from any man, she is not immune to flattery or charm - or the idea that if she bites him, she can make it hurt.
(Mostly, though, she just lacks resolve).
"If I bite you, what's in it for me hmm? You go away with your little tent in your pants and here I am, all alone."
weylin licks his teeth as she speaks, his smirk sharp even with his tongue exposed to obstruct it. "who says we need to stop there?" he asks her, his fingertips venturing to the back of her neck, his thumb possessively massaging the curve of her throat.
"i wanna know what you taste like too."
ZOE TERAKES as Hayley in Talk To Me (2022)

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@insectify
this flash flood came out of nowhere.
it's not that bug is unprepared for it. however, this new park is not his lifelong stomping grounds, and the marked map he's been given to use by one of the more experienced rangers is almost a decade old. ( still, he isn't lost. he's headed for what's listed as a ranger's station at the edge of the grounds, even if he has to take a guess at where the paths are as they grow muddy and the water flushes leaves downhill. )
when said station comes into view however, he isn't sure what to think. it looks... occupied, domesticated, much more inhabited than the average temporary living space and it gives him pause.
the rain is splashing off their umbrella, soaking their clothes and drowning some of the insects crawling around on his exposed skin, leaving him feeling dirty as well as wet. he shivers at the realization of the feeling and decides to take a risk, moving up to the front door and knocking politely, shuddering in an effort to adjust their clothing without losing the temporary shelter.
"harrison," she complains, looking up at him as she hooks an earring into place and giving him a smile after a few seconds. despite the small bit of annoyance at being blocked by him, she rests her hands on his chest before slowly letting them slide down to grab at his hips, pressing them together.
"i told you i had dinner with the guys tonight. it's been a while since i've seen them and i miss them." she rests her chin against his chest so she can look up at him, giving a little pout. "you could come with me."
there's the woman he knows. she smiles, melts into his affection with ease and he knows exactly where they are again. ( she needs him. she always has needed him and he's known it in his bones from moment they met. )
those words, "the guys", splash into harrison's stomach and wash up the back of his throat like acid reflux; he could be sick.
she looks up at him from her cutesy position on his chest and he knows he won't be able to deny her this request without facing significant repercussions in their future.
he has no desire to spend time with her friends, least of all "the guys" but he'd much rather be there to influence their impression of him than run the risk of another man affecting his image or stealing her away. "where are we going?" he asks, his tone artificially warm as a convincing knock-off of his authentic smile spreads across his face, hoping to excite her with the idea of him agreeing to tag along.