The summer air was heavy that night, humming with the sound of cicadas and slow jazz slipping from a cracked window. Malik sat on the fire escape, sweat rolling down his neck, the city lights glinting off his skin. Inside, Jordan was cooking something that smelled like garlic
The summer air was heavy that night, humming with the sound of cicadas and slow jazz slipping from a cracked window. Malik sat on the fire escape, sweat rolling down his neck, the city lights glinting off his skin. Inside, Jordan was cooking something that smelled like garlic
If you enjoy sensual, character-driven storytelling, come join me and explore more:
👉 patreon.com/masculinesissy
If you enjoy sensual, character-driven storytelling, come join me and explore more:
👉 patreon.com/masculinesissy
My feed includes sketches, process shots, and finished pieces (flagged NSFW when needed).
Follow if you’re into expressive male forms and unapologetic sensuality.💙
My feed includes sketches, process shots, and finished pieces (flagged NSFW when needed).
Follow if you’re into expressive male forms and unapologetic sensuality.💙
Not too tight — just enough to make people look twice.
Everywhere he went, heads turned, jaws dropped, and someone always “just happened” to ask where he got them.
Not too tight — just enough to make people look twice.
Everywhere he went, heads turned, jaws dropped, and someone always “just happened” to ask where he got them.
Each night, he chose a mask, set the camera, and disappeared into light and shadow.
No one knew his name, only the images — quiet, daring, beautiful and hung
Behind the lens, he wasn’t hiding he was free
Each night, he chose a mask, set the camera, and disappeared into light and shadow.
No one knew his name, only the images — quiet, daring, beautiful and hung
Behind the lens, he wasn’t hiding he was free