Wolvie

Kaelvar and Kaelven — twin-born under the same howl of the wind, cursed to carry a single hunger between them. Two cocks, four balls, and the same fire running in their veins. They fight side by side, they fuck side by side, and the world whispers their names in fear and desire.

Velvet coats, powdered hair… and a cock that owns the night. This young lord doesn’t seduce — he claims. Boys of every rank wait for his nod, knowing that once chosen, they’ll be fucked until their legs tremble. No guilt, no shame — only the raw law of his hunger.

Fresh meat

summer #AIart #gay #bara

Asmodraeus’s colossal arms locked around him, holding him like a treasure he would never release. Against the furnace of the demon’s skin, he felt the heavy swell press into him, a dark promise. The kind that made his breath catch, knowing it would soon fill him, utterly.

They anointed me with sweat, seed, and the cry of warriors. The circle throbbed, bodies as drums, cocks as torches, breath as incense to the old gods. The light entered my flesh. I rose not as a man, but as the weapon and the offering, sworn to spill blood for the tribe.

Take care if you harden while looking at these images. It means the ancient one has seen you. Its claw will find your flesh, slide into your heat, and bind you to its hunger. From then on, every beat, every drop, every release will belong to it — not you.

He is no longer bound to earth. The flesh, vulnerable and surrendered, becomes an offering. A body abandoned to heaven’s gaze — or to darker gods hiding in the clouds. Is this ecstasy… or possession?

Thalior rises, his body dripping with salt and hunger. His cock is the weapon of his survival. Each day he must take mortal flesh, drink the lust and love of men, or fade into nothingness. His tattoos are the map of his strength. And when they vanish, so will he.

They are Korvak and Thyros — faun warriors crowned by the forest gods. Their horns command, their cocks conquer. They don’t wait. They don’t ask. They fuck. If you meet them, you’re theirs — split open, drained, broken by two primal gods of rut.

Their fauns bodies already burning with desire, their cocks swing heavy, dripping the hunger of youth. They tease, they provoke — knowing that anyone who crosses their path will be dragged into lust and sweat. Innocence is a mask; behind it lies the fire of their savage nature.

Lucius Marcellus. In the baths of Rome, his cock stirs under the caress of water and sun. Not yet hard, but swelling with divine weight. Above him, Jupiter’s eagle descends — a sign of the god’s affection, marking his virility as sacred power.

Aelius never liked kisses — he thought they weakened a man’s virility. But when Cassian pressed against him, their cocks hard and grinding. Their embraces were savage, born of battle and hunger. And in the sweat of their naked bodies, they forged an eternal bromance.

Sebastian unleashed. Crystal arrows pierce, blood runs, and his cock swells heavy, not yet hard — stirred by the touch of pain and the divine gaze. The martyr trembles, flesh caught between agony and lust, body opening to a savage, sacred ecstasy.

Lucian, unleashed upon his throne. No crown, no jewel, no sword carries more weight than the thick flesh resting between his legs. A king not only of men, but of lust itself. Bow, or dare to worship.

The deeper you wander into his woods, the harder it is to escape…

Kyklōpios unleashed. His cock hangs heavy, flesh of a god cursed with burning sight. Naked between broken columns, muscles tight, his crimson beams rip through the world. He is a weapon carved from wrath itself. His seed, his rage, his blazing gaze: all are one.

🎶 Nightcrawler jumps, his tail will tease, He fucks with fire, he bites to please. Refrain : Bamf, bamf, into the night, He makes you moan, he holds you tight. #StagwarlockCreation #pagan #fantasy #mythology #scifi #anime #mangas #yaoi #bara #bromance #gayAIart #AImen #hero

Cernunnos, Lord of horns, we rise in naked flesh, The river cools our loins, our seed is hot and fresh. The forest takes our cries, the stones recall our breath, Your fire is in our groins, your hand is in our death.