#Dividing day

[henrytheduck36q]

Dividing Day from The Light in the Piazza

[nighthawkes]

your daily walks wrapped

you soaked up 10,985 minutes of sunshine, rain, and other weather

you walked past 4,073 individuals you would describe as the most beautiful person in the world

you bore witness to 23% more of your local area than last year—good job!

you saw 3 of the weirdest dogs you will ever see in your life

you noticed 18 people visibly, tenderly in love with each other

you smelled 243 flowering plants & shrubs

you drank 267 delicious beverages

you were kissed invisibly and imperceptibly by 117 bumble bees and butterflies

you were witness to 87,441,289 gorgeous leaves

[saradika-graphics]

— valentine’s day 💌💕

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[miyaz6ki]

symbol pack + txt dividers

﹆⁺ 𖧧🧇໑ ₊˚𓍼 ⊂╰ ﹒ ᖗ❀🍥˖ ﹕･･₊˚ʚ・⸝⸝ᘏᘏ ✦ ꒷₊˚ ︰꒱꒱﹒𓂅 ₊˚୨୧ ★₊˚୭ ॱ˖ ┊✦．╰╮﹒✎゛𓂅⨯⁺ ︰ 𑁯 𓂅⨯⁺ⵌ・꒱✦．ᨓ❀𓂅˚ ﹒.₊˚Ꮚ✦ ❜₊✧ ୧⌒𓄹 ໒🍷꒱˃ᴗ˂ ഒ˚🍒₊꒷ᘏ 𓂅 ︶꒦꒷₊˖˚₊ ✎‧₊ᓚ୨୧︶₊˚꒷ꮺ︶꒷꒦𓌹-𓌺˳˚✦ˎˊ-🍥 ⸝⸝・꒰꒰❏₊˚・₊˚ฅˎˊ꒱꒱♡꒷˚₊੭꒰꒰✦﹝🍥﹞꒱꒱ˎˊ-꒷‧₊˚﹆✿੭︰☆꒰꒰✦・┊🍄꒱🦢๑‧˚₊꒷୭୧₊˚⊹︰₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹╰・𓂃 ꒷꒦︶₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎꒱₊˚ ↷₊˚⑅𖦆₊˚໒`୨꒷Ꮼ ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖︶꒷꒦⊹˚Ꮚ₊꒷︶꒷⊹˚Ꮺ ᕱ⑅ᕱ ꒰ ᐡ ´͈ ᐜ `͈ ᐡ ꒱ ˃ᴗ˂ (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) (ᐢ • ˕ • ᐢ) ૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᘏ⑅ᘏ ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ . ୨ ࣪ ⊹𖥔˖࣪ ¡! 𖤐 ˓ ⊹ ˚. ‹ 𓂃◖ ˖ ݁ ˓ ╱ ᵎᵎ ꒦꒷𓄰⊹ ꉂ ˖ ݁ ˓ 𒀭 ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 ꉂ𓄰 ִֶָ ˓ 𖣠 ݁ ✦ ִֶָ ࣪ ،ヤ ! ◟⊹ ˚˖ ▹ ℜ 𖥸 ࣪ ، ̧¡ ﹫｡ ! ≛ ، . ‹ℜ ࣪𝅄 ャﾞ𒀭𖤩 ˖˚ 𖠿 ‣ ִֶָ ، ♥︎.⭒ ۫ ׅ 🌸 𝅄 𓈈 𐑺ִ ꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹ ꙳⸌♡⸍꙳ 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 ʚ♡ɞ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) १ (꒪˙꒳˙꒪ ) 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ໒ ﹢ 𖧧 ৶ ⭒ ତ ♡ ৎ୭ ଘ ɞ ✦ 𖤐 ★ ✧ ♥︎ ତ っ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა 𓂃𑁍 ࣪˖ 🐇🩰 Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰› ᐢ • ˕ • ᐢ ˖ ݁ ˓ 𖣠 𓏲·˚ ͙ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ⑅₎ ⊹ 𖡼 ָ࣪ ˖ 𓏲࣪ 𓄹𓈒 ˖ ࣪ ꒷ ꐑꐑ𔘓 𖦹 𓍢 ›𓂃 ִֶָ ࣪ 𓂅 ᕱ ᕱ ¸𓏲࣪ ˚꒷ キ ˖𓂃 ִֶָ ๋ ꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ ꗃ 𓂃 ⌕ ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა. ๑ 𓂅 ୨ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ๑ ♡ ﹕₊˚ ✦・୨୧・ ˎˊ- 〜 ꒷꒦ ╭・꒷꒦꒰ ︵︵﹆ . ⁺ . ✦ ﹒₊˚𓂃 ★﹒₊‧ ★・⸝⸝﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒₊˚𓂃・・・🌸 ———————・✦・﹕★﹒₊‧ ╰╮﹔﹒⧣₊˚ ˚₊﹒﹒╭╯ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ╭╯ ╰╮l﹒⧣ 𓆩 𓆪 𓄴 𓄵 𓄶 𓄷 ❀ ꈍᴗꈍ ꃋᴖꃋ 🌷ɞ ꒦₊˚

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

✿﹕ ︵︵✧₊︵︵ꕤ₊˚︵ ૮꒰˵• ᵜ •˵꒱ა ﹕ɞ

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

─ · ─ · ─ · ─ · ─ ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

━━━━━━ʕ•㉨•ʔ━━━━━━━

꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ (๑>ᴗ<๑) . ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧

(･ω･)つ ──────────── ⊂(･ω･)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

꒦ˎˊ˗ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ꒦꒷꒦₊˚

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠

➽───────────────❥

。✯ ＼｜／。✯ ＼ ｜ ／✯ 。✯ ＼ ｜ ／✯ 。

ɷ( ' ' )ɷ : ⊹ ̟˖ ⁀꒷꒦ ꒰꒰ ⊹꒷︶

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

꒷︶꒥꒷‧₊ ໒( ” •̀ ᗜ •́ ” )७ ₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖︶꒷꒦⊹˚Ꮚ₊꒷︶꒷⊹˚Ꮺ

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

like n rbs r appreciated >.<

[frogayyyy]

somewhere out there, there's an 11 year old zefram cochrane probably flibbity toileting or something. and one day in 39 years time, he's going to accidentally kiss a vulcan and change the timeline.

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑶𝒏𝒆

CW: x fem!reader, smut, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, older dadbod!kento and older reader, mention of having kids ,fluff, au, reader is chubby/plump/curvy

A/n: I had a vision. Some of the plot from the movie Klaus and my unquenchable desire inspired this. it's still the 12th where I am so we're still on time 😩 Idk even what I'm getting myself into with Smutmas but we're gonna say fuck it and see how it goes and how much I can do 🥰

12 days of smutmas masterlist

Wc: 1.5k

dividers by @/saradika-graphics. pics from pinterest.

Hear me out, Kento Nanami as Santa Claus...

Nanami, who retired at the age of 28 and moved to Malaysia. Who loved the sun and lived on that beach for many years.

Nanami, who traded in the powdery white sand and teal seafoam for a humble cabin and blankets of snow in a thicket of evergreens in the far, far north sometime around after he turned 40.

Nanami, who realizes he's got it bad for you, the lovely woman who rides by his cabin while he's chopping wood, on your merry way to sell your world famous cranberry jam to the local village.

Nanami, who has fought some of the most menacing curses known to man, but can't muster up the courage to invite you in for hot chocolate, until one evening.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who simply can't say no to the beautiful blonde man with scars on the left side of his face, with crinkled eyes sweeter than the butterscotch goodies you loved to bake, a quiet handsomeness and gentleness he possessed that rattles the forgotten corners of your heart that no man has reached before.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who both realize when you find yourselves accidentally underneath the mistletoe, that being "just friends" isn't gonna last much longer.

Nanami, who feels so warm and sweet like the peppermint tea he was drinking as he kisses you for the first time.

Nanami, who accidentally leaves a quiet moan in your mouth as the kiss gently escalates in intensity next to the cackling fire. Who turns red and apologizes for moving too fast but doesn't get to finish his sentence before you just grab him and press your lips against his with an even hungrier fervor than before.

Nanami, whose lips part at the elegant curves of your body and how they're even more bewitching against the silk of his sheets.

Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who coos softly, "Kento...", whose fragile voice quivers and shudders as your tight walls gently get coaxed open to the fat swollen tip of his long, heavy cock.

Nanami, whose hands intertwine with yours, who's in love by the first stroke, as your pussy just welcomes him, so soft and gushy, as it tightly embraces every inch.

Nanami and Future Mrs. Nanami!Reader who are lost to the throes of pleasure that first passionate night in the cabin. Your legs end up on his shoulders as his thrusting only gets faster and harder in sexy rhythm before he cums inside you, only to sweetly interrupt your fleeting high with the unexpected but delicious warmth of his tongue as he shamelessly laps his love out of you, before a finger or two is added, before he's hard again, and you're onto round 2 already.

---

Timeskip to Kento Nanami who's 58 years old. His belly is softer and hangs over his pants thanks to you, his darling plump wife, who knows how to feed him and his bulking to adjust for the harsh conditions over time.

Nanami, whose golden locks are now overwhelmed by streaks of grey with chest, arm, leg hair, and a happy trail to match. Whose crows feet are more pronounced with laugh lines he's added along with his scars as memories he's made with you. Who's taken the liberty of growing his beard out ever since you complimented it.

Nanami, with a pair of thick thighs and a juicy bum that pillows when he sits in his chair by the fire after giving you a kiss, the fleeting cold on his lips, cheeks still rosy, and the faint gleam of sweat on his brow from working in the snow.

Nanami, who has always been that sweet soul you fell in love with and decides one year to leave the wooden creations he made in his shop for your future children you never had as surprises for the local kids in the village as a random act of goodwill.

Nanami, who realizes his small gesture is now the talk of the town and the kids can't wait for the mysterious "Santa Claus" to visit if they're lucky again.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loads up a bag on his sled pulled by a small team of reindeer, visiting home after home to ensure no kids are left behind, a twinkle in his eye as he rides away into the night and imagines the adorable smiles that will break out that morning.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who now has a large workshop of loyal elves after they happened upon your humble abode in search of work one day.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's the best boss around and offers free meals, a place to live, PTO, paid vacations, a pension, retirement, and 3 years worth of parental leave to his elves in exchange for their labor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who upgraded to 9 reindeer who are the best kept reindeer on planet earth, spoiled with endless carrots and pets and cuddles to pull his sleigh every Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who loves Christmas and all the cookies and milk the kids leave out for him but not quite as much as growing old with you, Mrs. Claus.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's on the cusp of 60 and still fucks like he's in his twenties when he's alone with his you, his lovely wife.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's more pent up than ever before but you wouldn't know it until Christmas Day when he lumbers into your shared bedroom after a busy night of delivering presents.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who doesn't need mistletoe to fuck your brains out. The workshop is empty, every one is home celebrating the holiday that was a year in the making while he's slowly peeling those frilly pajamas off your body and discarding them on the polished wooden floor.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's eating his favorite cookie of all, the one between your thighs that seems to mold to his tongue like you were made just for him by now.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who drinks his fair share of homemade ale but has never been drunker than right now when he's going down on you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who has a knack for licking his plate clean(hence his dadbod) which has only served him extremely well when it comes to licking up both sides, underneath and all around your perky clit in slobbery trails that leave you a shaky mess.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who is happy to take his time. The gift of aging has left you both with a delay in getting ready, but it's considered a win since you both could spend all day with your heads in each other's crotches like it was all you were meant to do.

Santa Claus!Nanami who whispers in your neck while he fingers you,

"So good for me, darling. Always so warm and wet for me. I'm such a lucky man..."

"Did you think of me while I was gone, sweetheart? Bet you did, oh I can tell, darling. So naughty underneath that innocent smile...and just for me..."

"Kento..." You rasp as his lips snake around your nipple as he angles his thick fingers that are soaked by now in search for all those spots that make you cry to the stars, the soft wisps of his beard scratching the wrinkly skin of your inner thighs, and the aching bud of your clit. "Gonna cum too f-fast..."

"Isn't that the point, darling?" He groans. "You know I love it when you soak my beard. Don't be shy, now, love..."

And when you do his eyes are closed and he's humming like he tasted dessert for the very first time, nectar stained beard he wears with pride and it's no surprise he's already going back for seconds.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, who've been at it for nearly two hours now, surpassing the record you two set last Christmas.

Santa Claus!Nanami, who's already cummed inside you twice, but hasn't quite had enough of you yet. Your mouth is dribbling up and down his shaft with mindless strokes of your head and eyes rolled back. You're relishing the salty taste, saliva mixed with the milky white thinly dripping around the base, letting the absent-minded little thin spurt of cum for his nth orgasm trickle down your throat while his tongue lazily squelched in and out of the unrecognizable gob of juices that built around your wet entrance from endless orgasms he drew out of you already, groaning when you manage to squirt another warm trickle right into his waiting mouth.

Santa Claus!Nanami and Mrs. Claus!Reader, now cuddled up in one another in the large porcelain tub with the jacuzzi jets, faint smell of pinecone candles lit on the countertop and bubbles all around you easing their way into your aching joints.

"Merry Christmas," he whispers to you.

Santa Claus!Nanami, whom with forever only gets sweeter as the blissful passage of time with him by your side makes it feel like Christmas every single day.

@actuallysaiyan

[cherryluvss]

Okay but.... imagining myself breathless, lying into the pile of pillows only to be asked, "wanna clean it off for me" as they dangle the dripping strap above my lips.

Maybe even a "good girl, just like that" as I breathlessly lap my tongue around it, cleaning it just as they wanted while they have that smug look on their face.

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would the Bad Sanses Harpys react if you were to preen their wings?

Poor harpy boys. They constantly look a little bit messy, because until you show up, they have no one around they trust enough to groom them.

Dust can't make eye contact while you preen him. It's been such a long time since anyone preened him, and honestly? He's flustered. You might not notice at first, since he'll just sit there in silence, not looking at you and only answering your questions with short hums. Knowing him it's only natural to assume he's feeling nothing out of the ordinary. But if you look closer at his 'impassive' face, when you run your hands over his blue-grey feathers, you'll realise there's a tinge of red on his cheekbones. You'll realise the reason he turns his head from you is because he doesn't want you to notice how embarrassingly emotional (literally just a hint of blush) he's getting. You'll realise he's replying in hums because he can't even concentrate on what you're saying. His feathers are lovely and soft, despite how long it's been since anyone groomed him. You aren't sure how much of the softness is the fine powder layer covering him, but whatever it is, it's very tempting to bury your face in it.

If there's anyone that really needs preening, it's Horror. His feathers are a mess. And he probably wants it the most out of all of them. Even though he desperately wants you to preen him, and he'll be so overjoyed if you offer, he will definitely flinch at the first touch - he's just not used to getting any kind of positive attention. But... the more you smooth his ragged uneven feathers, the more relaxed he gets. His eyelight gets big and wide, his socket half-closes, he fluffs up like a pigeon, he puts an arm around you - he'll definitely start to purr. As you pick fluff and pinfeathers out he gets more and more and more sleepy, more and more relaxed... ... Until he's a bit too relaxed and sleepy, and he just nods over, falling asleep and pulling you down with him. Congrats, you are now trapped. You are no match for his weight and sleepy clinginess. At least his huge wings are very very warm, and make great blankets.

Killer's wings are constantly in a state of disarray. Just like him. There's feathers sticking up at all different angles, clumps matted together, he sheds everywhere, he gets puffy when he's excited and patches of puff don't go back down properly... he's not quite as messy as Horror but he's definitely getting there. He never lets anyone touch him, he gets aggressive at the suggestion he needs to tidy himself, and he reacts to any attempt to clean him up by getting alarmingly violent. You are, of course, his exception to everything. He'll wait until you're sat down, then dramatically drape himself across your lap and lament about how long it's been since someone preened him. He'll constantly bring it up, and when you do finally 'cave' and run a brush over him, he grins like a cat and gets all cuddly. With how cute he acts when you're preening him it's hard to believe he ever made a fuss about it before.

Nightmare doesn't do preening. Sorry, dear. The black tar that coats his wings simply makes grooming logistically impossible. He doesn't ever look like he needs preening anyway, he's the only one of the guys who doesn't look messy - perhaps there's some deep magic in the darkness that coats him, because unless he's really angry, he never has a single feather out of place. Why would someone like him ever require that kind of thing? ... Just because he doesn't need it, though, doesn't mean he doesn't want it. He misses being able to receive that kind of affection. When the two of you are alone together, he would very much appreciate it if you just... pretended to preen him. Run your fingers through his feathers as best you can, smooth down bumps that aren't there, fix issues that haven't been there for years. You'll never see him more calm.

[kaybaeisgay]

no but really let’s talk about the dynamic between the older gen spideys vs young gen spideys for a moment, because it’s really got me fucked up.

miguel and all the older gen spideys seem so entirely accepting of all these “canon compliant” rules, because those rules absolutely validate the trauma that every one of them has gone through. the idea of “oh our pain had a reason, oh our heartbreak was for something after all” is a VERY powerful notion that—understandably—they welcome with open arms because they have already lived it.

but the younger gen spideys…. yes, most of them have bought into miguel’s logic for most of the movie, because of course you’re going to listen to the 1,000,000 adults all telling you the same thing when you’re fucking fifteen and desperate for any semblance of mentorship. and it sure does make a lot more sense when you yourself have also experienced a similar trauma to all the others.

but that’s exactly it, isn’t it? they’ve all experienced the same trauma—

that miles and pav have not.

so, no. actually, fuck your rules. and really, fuck your demands that i must suffer what you suffered just because you cannot accept me without it. and good on miles for saying it—good for all of the spideys who realized he was right—realized he was asking all the right questions instead of drawing all the wrong conclusions.

(yet. for all my anger i feel towards the older gen for pressuring him in that way….i also understand why they cling so desperately to these stupid “canon” rules. because, if miles can manage to resist it—if he or gwen or pav can escape what they never could—then suddenly, they have to ask the question of:

“what didn’t i do right?”

and

“was all that pain really for nothing?”

and accepting your life after having to ask those questions instantly becomes much more difficult.)

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[james-farrow-did-nothing-wrong]

I hope you settle down, I hope you marry rich, I hope you're scared of only ordinary shit

🎨:moncuries & moonsnqil

[zoe-oneesama]

Hi! I love the fashion in your comic (and the comic itself ofcourse). I like to sew and have made some items based of your comics, but It’s not always easy to see your designs unfortunately. I was wondering if you had any Pinterest accounts/boards that you would be able to share?

I gotchu beau

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

Wow I need to hear more of your thoughts and 69 with Xavier 😭 the image of him drooling from the feeling of his cock being swallowed and sucked so good is so...so... 😫 He may be pussy drunk but jokes on him I'm cock drunk too LMAO

HAJDKSJDHS PLEASE my unfiltered thoughts of xavier are so so many and they're locked in a safe because truly the filth that man makes me think surprises me sometimes too

but let's be so real, he totally would be pussy drunk, and the brainrot is insane with this one actually so you get a whole post 🫶🫶

but he just? feels like the type to be eating you out whenever he can? because it just feels so nice? he just likes staying between your legs? there's comfort in being there, having your legs wrapped around him, rubbing circles into your skin, holding you close like that... it probably doesn't even start out as anything remotely sexual. maybe you're watching a movie, or just cuddling—he's there nuzzling your thighs and maybe poking his nose against your clit every now and then... but the bottomline is that he just likes it there. he could fall asleep like that.

... but he also knows you like it.

so eventually he's going to start actually using his mouth on you, and he'd be very pleasure-focused, absolutely all for you, until you're tugging on his hair and grinding up against his face, just the way that he wants you to be.

but st the same time, he'd be so lost in making you feel good that i'll bet he barely even notices you move around, maybe try and take his cock out? until you do?

and then he just. absolutely loses it.

he'd already be sensitive and leaking, because eating you out just does that to him!! that's how much he likes it!!!

but you lick him, even if just once.... and then it absolutely snaps him awake.

zero control left.

just starts rutting into you just like that, and maybe you don't even have a say anymore—he's just fucking himself on your face and sloppily drinking you up at the same time, moaning into you somewhat helplessly. and the drool? it's dribbling down his chin, a mix of both your arousal and his own saliva, and he's trying his best to multitask and give you pleasure while focusing on the pleasure you give him, but it just completely fucks him over. eyes glazed over, possibly closed, eyebrows all knit together because everything just feels so good...

because he found something else he's addicted to now, too <33 it just so happens he's experiencing both at the same time <3

"mmph... mmf—'ngel—nmmph— s-s-sho good—"

[difficultdomains]

a/n: satoru! with! long! hair! - that’s it, that’s the post

mdni - nsfw under the cut

long hair but not the way suguru’s hair is long.

long hair as in it’s been a while since he had a moment to himself, let alone time for a haircut. so when he returns home to you after yet another long mission, his hair is falling into his face and over his eyes, almost hiding them completely from view.

“looks strange, right?” is the only thing he says with a grin when he sees you standing at the door, eyes wide.

he prefers his usual look, the undercut, the controlled unruliness. but you? even though you think you’re being sneaky, he notices.

those quick little glances through the fogged up mirror when you catch him fresh out of the shower. it’s not the towel sitting way too low on his hips that has your gaze lingering longer than usual - it’s the semi-dried white chaos on top of his head that’s making you want to follow every drop that drips from his ends and trace it down his skin. the time you usually take to brush your teeth suspiciously doubles.

or later that same night, when he rests his head in your lap only for your hands to absentmindedly tangle in his hair. with your attention captured by the movie you had chosen together, your fingers fall into a rhythm of their own, twirling lock after lock around your index finger, over and over again, like a mantra. he would love to let you lull him to sleep with your steady, repetitive motions, let himself drift off under your touch right where he is - but he wants more.

he wants you to forget all about your movie when he pulls you onto his lap, hips between your thighs and arms wrapped around your waist, tightly, until your chest is completely flush with his. unknowingly you reveal what's on your mind once again, breath lodging in his throat when all the tenderness in the world concentrates in your fingertips, pushing back his bangs and running through his hair all the way until you arrive at the nape of his neck. your nails meet sensitive skin, and he shivers, electricity trickling down his spine. you search for his eyes, only to find him already watching you with overcast skies, longing pressing down on his lungs like humidity. you mirror him, your gaze stifling when it drops down to his lips and all at once the brewing summer storm in his irises unleashes, lightning cracking when he finally gets to kiss you, soft and scorching at the same time.

what he wants even more though, is to look up at your flushed cheeks and the reddish bruise threatening to form on your neck before he dips down between your thighs, drinking in the gasp that falls from your lips when his own connect with your most sensitive spot. your breathing quickens, air sticking to your airways as he coaxes only the sweetest sounds out of you with every flick of his tongue. you push him closer, white locks spilling out from between your fingers - but he still needs more. you miss the near-devious look from under his heavy eyelashes as he abandons his firm hold on your hips and trails up your thigh, only to travel down again until he’s right in between. a broken moan slips from your mouth when he slides his fingers in with one smooth motion, your hand coming up to stifle it and prevent the sound from bouncing off the walls of your living room. you grab onto the loose collar of your shirt, bracing yourself for what you know is about to come - but he moves agonizingly slow, slowing down all of his motions until you're reduced to a rubber band pulled taut by impatience.

his name mixes with an exasperated groan on your tongue, head falling to the side onto the backrest of the couch.

“what’s wrong, love?” he purrs, looking up at you and halting his movements altogether.

the furrows between your brows deepen when he gifts you an angelic smile.

“tell me what you want.”

you reach out, gripping his hair again, the tenderness from before replaced by intention.

“do it properly.”

his eyes glaze over at the pleading tone you mutter your command in. he almost has you exactly where he wants you. just one more push-

“you sure you can handle it, baby?”

he watches it snap in your eyes, your refusal to play along evident in the way you use your newfound leverage to push him back between your legs, right where you want him the most.

without granting you a single breath more, he suppresses a triumphant grin and his lips reattach, fingers slipping back in to curl right against your spot with absolute precision. sudden sweet pressure has your back arching up into him and your fingers pulling on his hair, hard, tearing a moan from him that immediately intertwines with yours.

maybe he‘ll consider postponing that haircut - just for a little while longer.

this is what i have in mind if you need a visual for the hair LMFAO

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 ~ 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑻𝒘𝒐

Synopsis: It's the classic Hallmark tale: what happens when you, a business woman from the city, arrives at the family owned O'Hara Christmas Tree farm your greedy boss wants to demolish, and finds much more than you bargained for that fateful night you get snowed in?

CW: x FEM!READER, SMUT(unprotected p in v ,oral (f receiving), creampie, breast play, touch of mirror kink) enemies to lovers ish, DUBCON?(You're both a bit drunk), alcohol, touch of angst, mention of pregnancy

Words: 4.4k

A/N: a little late, mb but I hope it's worth it!😩 I'm on vacation rn but I'm dedicated to making this happen even if I'm a lil behind lolol

Dividers: @/saradika-graphics

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎄🎁

You certainly weren't in Kansas anymore. Or so the saying went. This time you found yourself somewhere in the Catskills outside of Nueva York. Your high heels crunched on the gravel as you stepped out of your Uber, taking in the grand Christmas tree farm in front of you. 

"O'Hara Ranch" was welded in iron lettering on a black sign above the entrance. You whistled as you took in the expansive acres of balsam fir trees, dusted in a thin layer of snow straight out of a painting. 

It was no wonder your boss was so dead set on this place. You became keenly aware of the biting chill of the countryside as you huddled your arms closer around you, your pink blazer doing little to keep you warm as you started to quake in your Jimmy Choos with your laptop case and singular carry-on in tow.

---- 

Miguel grunted, scratching his lower back as his large, sturdy boots squeaked a little on his kitchen floor, eyes almost as dark as the warm beverage in his mug, looking out in silent disapproval at the black Escalade that pulled up, dropping off what he was certain was another employee from that pesky developer.

Some poor soul who had to be the shot messenger for a CEO who never strayed out of the wealthy privileged fairytale land they lived in, thinking that multiple commas would be enough to get him to sign his life away. 

When would they ever learn? He thought. He puts down his mug on the counter then strides over to the door, placing one of his hats on his head before he goes outside to greet this new imposter. 

---

You shuddered as you reached inside your pocket, taking out the flimsy scrap of paper that contained the phone number for the ranch and dialing it again, hoping to reach this Miguel, or whoever it was you were supposed to meet. 

"C'mon..." 

You shouldn't be surprised if he didn't pick up again. It was no secret that you were the bad guy in this situation straight out of a Hallmark film. 

Corporate business lady visiting a Christmas Tree farm that's been in the same family for decades, beloved by all the locals, who forced them to sign over their American dream to a greedy land developer and demolish it to the ground for a lavish mountain resort, and 2 weeks before Christmas no less. 

Just as the call goes to voicemail, a four wheeler's engine interrupts your train of thought. Just like out of a movie, you take notice of the very tall, dark haired, very handsome rider who sat astride it.

His long sleeved grey shirt did nothing but accentuate his rippling arm muscles, layered underneath a Carhartt vest, complete with a baseball cap and salt and pepper five o clock shadow on his sharp, steely jaw. His lips were plump and relaxed into a subtle frown, complete with thick brows and dark wavy hair that complimented the pair of rich brown eyes he possessed that compared to the slice of Earth he owned. 

"Miss...?" He asks your name with an equally deep beautiful voice to match in slightly bored formality. You could tell it was painful for him to be polite to you like this, if you were the corporate imposter like he thought you were.  

"Yes, hi! You're...M-Miguel, right?" 

His expression remains unmoved. "That would be me." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Gorgeous property by the way! Really, it's much much better in person than the pictures-" 

"Right." He replies stiffly. "There's really no need to be so gracious.  I figure you're here for one thing and one thing only." 

"Uh-" you reply, a little thrown off by what he means. 

"And the answer is no. I understand you've got a job to do, but I've told your boss over and over again: no. Five years ago, it was a no. Last month, also no. Come back in a week, my answer will still be no. Thank you." 

He revs the engine, getting ready to speed away. 

"Wait! I really do need you to sign this! From the mayor?" You waved a pink colored document which caught his attention for once. 

Miguel turned off the engine, hopping off the four wheeler and strode towards you. He shoots you a superstitious glance before his eyes flicker to the paper, slowly becoming more enraged as he scanned along the fine print:

 Notice of Eminent Domain. 

That bastard. There was a reason Miguel didn't vote for this prick. The new mayor was part of this recent wave of money hungry idealists in power who wanted to turn the humble town he grew up in into another rich touristy playground. 

Usually, these folks couldn't wait to sign the dotted line, get their check, and be on their merry way, but this Miguel was taking his time reading every last stipulation in the document. You notice the snow is coming down harder and harder, your teeth chattering wildly as you did your very best to stay calm as the relentless cold tested your endurance. Finally, Miguel hands you back the paper with a sigh, 

"Still not signin'. Sorry for wasting your time." 

"Miguel." You felt your patience snapped in half by now. Between traveling all morning, your boss's incessant emails, and the cold ass weather, you had just about had it up to here. 

"I'm sorry. But any complaints you have will just have to be taken up with the big man later. I came with a job to do and I have every intention of doing it." 

"That so?" Miguel straightens up, flexing his height over you. 

You were emboldened by this point through all the bullshit you had endured. "It is very much so. I'm not leaving this damn farm without a signature, and that's final." 

"Hm." Miguel nodded his chin, as though he was calling your bluff before he swiftly turned around, walking back towards the awaiting four wheeler. 

"Oh no you don't!" You huffed as your icecubes for feet magically thawed off of pure adrenaline and spite as you began to sprint. 

"What the-" Miguel looks at you quizzically then his brow furrows when he sees you darting towards his four wheeler. "The hell you think you're doing??" 

You ignore him and climb on, Miguel snickering a little bit at the prim and proper lady from the city now straddling his seat, slightly disheveled with a wild look in your eye from dealing with corporate messes all day. 

"Get down." Miguel says sternly, coming up to stand next to you. 

"No." You answer simply, smoothing your blazer. 

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." Miguel's tone becomes more warning now. "Get off my property, woman." 

"Sign my document, then." You fold your arms. 

"You're a brat, y'know that?" Miguel folds his arms too, incredulous at your undying persistence, more like annoyance. "So childish." 

"Name calling? And you say I'm the childish one." You turn your nose up at him.

"I'm not the crazy lady jumping on a stranger's four wheeler that she doesn't even know how to drive." Miguel grumbles. 

"You'd be surprised." You glare. 

Both of you just sit there in silence, the snowfall has  escalated to just short of a blizzard by now. You're trying but failing to conceal just how damn cold you are as you shiver and shudder. Miguel's mind brews with some ideas before he speaks. 

"Alright." Miguel sighs "I'll sign your damn document. But I need to show you the place first. Just so you can get an idea of just how sick and twisted you people truly are: tearing down a place like this that's been in the family for generations." 

"What?" You blink, not expecting this change of events. "But I mean- but..." You glance at your wrist watch. "It's almost 4 pm. I was supposed to be on the road a half hour ago." 

"Not in this storm you're not." Miguel tsks his teeth. "They always close the canyon when it snows. You won't be able to go anywhere until the morning. But hey, if you wanna call an Uber and wait four hours for him just to be turned around at the bridge, then be my guest." 

"You-" You shuddered and groaned, exasperated at the fact that Miguel appeared to have the upper hand this time. You were stuck playing by his rules. 

"Fine." You resign, throwing your hands up. 

Miguel smirks at this surrender in you, getting on the four wheeler behind you. He's aware the space between your bodies is now very thin, his chest just barely grazing your back as he leans forward, placing his hands on both handlebars. 

You try not to make it obvious that you can't breathe and realize you might be in way over your head being stuck overnight with a man four times handsome as he was stubborn as Miguel drives you rapidly towards his ranch. 

---- 

"Home sweet home." Miguel hums halfheartedly as you enter the elaborate living area of Miguel's mountain home. Several brown and white cowhide rugs were spread over the polished wooden floors, a large pair of antlers hung over a luxury stone hearth, with an inviting leather couch in front of it. 

A short time later, you're absentmindedly staring at some photographs on the wall when Miguel's voice startles you. 

"Had enough snooping?" 

"I wasn't snooping!." You whirl around, pretending to avert your gaze. "I was admiring the antlers." 

Miguel scoffs. "You're a terrible liar, you know." 

"Who is that?" You ask, voice a little more gentle. You kind of wish you never asked when Miguel's eyes soften with the slightest tinge of melancholy. 

"My daughter." He answers then clears his throat. "She passed some years ago." 

"Oh..." You look at him then back at the photograph of the cheery bright eyed girl in it. "I'm so sorry." 

"Thanks." Miguel answers shortly, crossing over to the bar on the far side of the room. 

"I can see why you don't want to leave." You admit, crossing your arms and running your palms up your arms as the glow from the fireplace worked quickly to rid you of any lingering chill from outside. "For what it's worth..." 

Miguel scoffed again. "You don't need to play the sympathy card to win points with me." 

"I- No Miguel! Of course not!" You look at him in horror. "Really, you think I take pride in doing these things to folks like you? You think I'm some souless corporate ghoul that drinks blood of the innocent?" 

"Yes." Miguel stays deadpanned, with the faintest glimmer of amusement. 

"Oh shut up." You blow air through your lips and stride over to where he's standing by his bar. "What do you have to drink around here anyways?" 

Miguel smiles, the bourbon in his glass had made him feel a little more comfortable by now. He glanced outside, eyes slightly widened in surprise at the complete blizzard that was unfolding outside the frosty window. 

"You might wanna go for something a bit stronger than that." Miguel nods in the direction of the window. 

Your fingers move away from the canned margaritas in the mini fridge. You realize bourbon is also the answer tonight when you lay eyes on the absolute winter wonderland outside. 

You had never seen so much snow in your life, as a seemingly infinite stream of snowflakes littered the staggering blankets of pure white that would be nearly waist deep should you venture back out. 

Even though the night was completely black, the shimmery powder stood out, illuminating the December night among the silent and formidable evergreens. 

"Damn..." You whispered. 

"Damn is right." Miguel polishes off his bourbon. "Another round for me too, when you get a chance." He slides his glass towards you across the polished wood. 

"Please?" You quirk a brow at him. 

Miguel chuckles, the sound deep and a little breathy. The feeling it left you...quite unexpected. "Yes, please."

You hum and fill his glass a quarter of the way after you pour your own into one of the small shot glasses you spied below the countertop, throwing the liquid fire back in one ragged gulp. 

Miguel laughs at the face you make and little cough you let out as your eyes water. "Miss Corporate can't handle a little country bourbon?" 

"Miss Corporate can handle herself just fine." You give him a small harrumph. "Miss Corporate wishes to remind Mr. Country Man that she is still here strictly on business and she has no problem decking him in the face should he continue to mouth off." 

"Hmmm business, eh?" 

"Mhmm." 

"Oh, I think we're way past that." Miguel smirks as he leans forward a little closer towards you. "You're having a drink with your evictee. Can't imagine that's not frowned upon." 

"I've had drinks with clients before." You huff, hastily grabbing the bottle and pouring another shot as if to prove a point. This one went down with less resistance, albeit still just as fiery as the one before. 

"Cálmate."(Calm down) Miguel goes to grab the bottle from you just as you're about to pour a third when the sudden move causes the bourbon to splash a little, ending up on your thousand dollar blazer. 

"You... idiot." You roll your eyes as Miguel snorts. 

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." Miguel steps towards you, trying to help. 

"Nope, you've done quite enough." You huff, trying to disguise the warmth the alcohol was quickly dispelling all over your body. 

"I insist." 

"Miguel, fuck off!" 

"Come here, dammit..." 

And you're not sure exactly what happened, but in that moment his body was pressed up against yours and your faces were mere inches from one another.

This was dangerous now. You knew it, and he knew it, but for Miguel, he was at risk of losing everything anyway. Who could blame him if he wasn't going to make the most of this...convenient situation that presented itself to him. It didn't help that you were quite easy on the eyes as well. 

He pauses as if holding his breath, those deep, deep eyes completely swallowing you up where you stood, the faint sting of the bourbon you can detect on his lips that he wet ever so slightly. 

"M-Miguel, I really shouldn't, I-" 

And you can't remember exactly what drove your lips to meet in that heady first kiss, or how his touch moved from your face, to your neck, whether you were the one who guided him, or his hands wandered on their own accord to the sensitive swells of your breasts, but here you were, up against this tall, rugged farmer you thought you hated only 20 minutes ago, breathing and panting into his mouth and kissing him like your life depended on it, completely contradicting everything you ever said. 

He began to rock his hips against you, hands now on either side of your head, caging you against the wall. You could tell he loved being bigger than you, finally something he had to humble all the sass you loved to throw at him earlier. A not-so-secret attraction you had for him all this time you feebly tried to disguise with disdain. 

Miguel felt it too, and God, right now he couldn't get enough of all the little whines and sounds you were making. How desperate you got just from a little deep conversation and bourbon. This night was swiftly traveling in a more heated direction, and if he wasn't mistaken by the subtle rolls of your body against his aching bulge in his jeans and the hunger laced in your fingers as they tangled in his hair, you had no intention of stopping. 

"Not so feisty now, are you?" He groaned as he started leaving heated kisses along both delicate junctures of your neck. "Sure you're not gonna change your mind  and go back to stealing my farm, hermosa?" He teased. 

"Oh, fuck off..." You grumbled and then bit your lip, back arching involuntarily when you felt him just barely tug your delicate nipple with his teeth. "Aaah Aahhh, Miguel..." You threw your head back.

Miguel smirks and takes that as permission to lay you back completely on his bar, gently tugging the waistband of your business slacks while he switched between both tits and lapped them with the pointy tip of his tongue, until both buds of your nipples were bumpy and hard from all the attention. "You can still stop at any time..." 

"N-No more asking..." You managed to sputter out as you felt his fingers begin to wiggle against your clothed heat that was steadily soaking from the inside. "Just- fffuck, Miguel, so good...just fuck me..." 

"Mmmm..." Miguel groaned in satisfaction and yanked off your pants, followed by your panties without another word. 

Pure ecstacy rolled off the tip of his tongue and dripped between your warm folds as he began to slurp your pussy up like hot cocoa. Miguel strategically left your high heels on, smirking as he glanced over at the mirror on the wall, seeing the pretty businesswoman half naked and back arched so beautifully, moaning as he ate you out on his bar. 

Despite never knowing your body before, his tongue just seemed to find and hit all the right spots, even the ones you were too impatient to look for when you laid in bed all alone. He sucked, and he spit, rolling your clit so perfectly between his lips and leaving no inch of your pretty pussy unbathed by his tongue. 

He alternated between tongue fucking you where his thick nose squished against your clit, hands slinking up the soft flesh of your hips, encouraging you to grind on his face. When he paused and brought his face up to look at you, you swore he was never more handsome than when his face was shiny with your slick, dripping with the evidence that he could make you wetter than any man you'd ever been with.

And other times, he loved to just stare into your eyes with that same, beautifully mesmerizing gaze that was almost too intense to where you'd have to turn away, only for him to whisper, "ah, ah, mirame..." (Look at me) , while his thumb slowly rubbed over your swollen clit, and his middle and ring finger noisily and wetly massaged your squishy walls. 

"Miguel, baby, so good..." You moaned and you sighed, face twisting into a smile as you bit your lip. It felt so shameless to indulge right now. Your career hit the road the second you decided to kiss him but right now you weren't complaining. Logic took a permanent vacation leaving you with nothing but raw, carnal need. All that mattered right now was spreading your legs for this man, being his whore, riding his face and taking his cock every which way he'd have you tonight. 

Your eyes watered as you felt that familiar feeling swelling in your belly, thighs shaking more unsteadily than before. Your back slightly arched from where you laid on his bar but the pleasure Miguel kept injecting into you with his sinfully delicious tongue kept you right there.

"M-Miguel...I'm gonna cum." 

Miguel went even harder, nuzzling his nose even further into your dripping heat, savoring the dribbling honey running between your thighs and dripping into his mouth. He added his fingers again, fingers normally rough and taut and calloused from all that work he did on the farm became soft, intentional, sensual, and deliberate as he coaxed your pussy closer and closer to releasing all over for him.

Your thighs began to quiver around his head, clamping down, however Miguel would gladly suffocate every time for the cause.

"R-right there, Miguel..." 

"Right here, baby?" He groans, swirling his finger in circles over that tried and true spot on your clit, another gush of your juices wetting his fingers before the flood, and Miguel leans over to clean it up with his tongue. 

Every touch now feels amplified in electricity, bordering on overstimulation as his tongue glosses over your soaked folds, something changing in your brain chemistry as he licked up every bit of your arousal as though it were frosting from a bowl. 

"Still with me?" Miguel whispered, leaning in and making out with you as he scooped you into his arms, leading you over to the couch, the entire room painted in an alluring orange glow from the fire next to the warm yellow lights from the tall Christmas tree. 

You groaned as you tasted yourself on his soft, messy lips, the ember of desire burning hotter than ever in both of you. "Y-yeah..." 

Miguel smiles as he sets you down next to him, reaching over and pulling a fleece blanket over your shoulders. His thumb gently brushed the corner of your mouth as he took you in. The most sobering moment between you all evening. One where the alcohol had some time to sink in and both of you were riding out the end of your high together. A new kind of closeness beginning to set itself alight between you as you wordlessly began stripping off the rest of your clothes and you reached for his. 

"Can I?" You asked and a low groan rumbled from his chest. 

"Please." 

You weren't sure, but somehow despite his sass, his generosity and sole focus on making you cum with no assumption on his part that you would be obligated to do the same for him made you even more determined as you peeled back layer after layer, until he sat there in all of his naked glory in front of you. 

He was absolutely beautiful. The salt and pepper pattern from his stubble on his jaw was repeated in his happy trail, leading to a nice, thick, bush around the base of his thick, veiny, cock (More fun for you when you'd be riding him into next week later on).

The tip was just barely a hint of red as it bloomed with precum.  His legs and arms were hairy as well, stomach soft with just the right amount of pudge but everywhere else was solid pure muscle that could only be found on a man who worked hard in the elements, dark hair tousled a bit that fell in his eyes from your passionate fingers earlier. 

The throbbing ache pounded, the glistening sheen between your thighs was all the lube you needed as he pulled you into his lap. Miguel's eyes remained completely locked on you, softening a bit as he felt himself start to push inside you. 

He had suspected sometime around while you were moaning his name and he was lapping up your arousal like an oasis that this whole encounter was deeper than a hookup, and now, he realizes he's sunk: hook line and sinker as your pussy just grips and squeezes him. He sighs as his hands find residence on your hips, taking pleasure in kneading the soft fat. 

"Take your time...." He whispered as he noticed you struggling a bit under his sheer size, his girth slowly spreading you more open. Somehow though, the stretch felt more rewarding, more sinful as you became fuller and fuller of him as you just allowed yourself to relax. 

Miguel's cock bottomed out inside of you, an experimental twitch of his cock reminded you on all fronts that you were stuffed to the brim. He adored this, he loved being so close to you like this, loved the satisfaction that the woman who supposedly hated his guts at first was now completely putty in his hands as you wrapped effortlessly around him. 

"So damn warm..." Miguel purred as he began bouncing you in a slow rhythm. "Ah, ah, mas despacio, por favor(more slow please)..." He teased, grip tightening as he slowed your hips. "I wanna enjoy you like this for a while." He grunted and groaned, loving the way you just responded with more dripping slick around his base as he leaned in to suck on your tits while keeping himself buried inside. "If I'd known you felt this good I would've dragged you out of that fucking snow a lot earlier." He murmured before his lips puckered over your nipple. 

"Please, Mig..." You rolled your eyes but returned a chuckle with a sigh, gently rolling your hips while his cock remained warm and snug inside you. "I'll admit when you pulled up on that four wheeler, it was kind of hard not think about you bending me over the seat.." 

"Yeahh?" Miguel groaned as he churned his hips, drawing his cock in and out of your sea of wetness. "Shouldn't have told me that, now I might need to make that happen..."

As he spoke, his pace increased faster and faster. 

"Aaahh, Miguel...Miguel!" Your threshold was being tested on how much you could take, but nearly fell apart altogether when he added his thumb back to your clit while continuing to fuck up into you ruthlessly. 

"Come on baby, with me...let go."  

And your highs came in waves, yours first followed by his like a bursting dam. His cum overwhelmed your tight hole, causing it to dribble down the sides in filthy display but you loved it, shoving yourself back down on his cock with naughty enthusiasm. Miguel smirked at you, eyes still slightly dazed from euphoria. 

"Good to see you're not wasting any, baby." 

And before you knew it he picked you up, yelping slightly then giggling when you took the initiative of squeezing your thighs tighter around his waist, cock still softening slowly inside your silky pussy, but beginning to pulse back to life as you and Miguel began making out passionately while he took careful steps with you cradled in his arms to his bedroom. 

Perhaps by now you didn't have a job anymore, the future of Miguel's farm was still uncertain, surely you'd be the talk of the entire town come a few months later when your tummy would be swelling with the evidence of every steamy thing that took place tonight inside this snowed in ranch. But, for now, you had much harder, longer, thicker things on your mind as round two became three, then four, with a surprise fifth in the middle of the night and a sixth in the morning. 

When all is said and done, you could always just blame it on the snow.