#I am normal about this man

[briefkittenearthquake]

I like my men smart

[slitsimp]

i think i might like norm

[thefangirlfever]

DBF! Miguel O'Hara (18+, MDNI)

Content warning: Explicit content under the cut. This story depicts a relationship with an age-gap (F: 28 yo, M: 49 yo) and graphic content. If any of these topics make you feel uncomfortable, please do not interact.

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DBF! Miguel and reader having a moment together. They're alone in his kitchen, it's the middle of a rainy fall afternoon and you are drinking tea together. The two of you font need to speak to communicate. Your gestures, your eyes, even the way you sip your tea tell everything you need to know.

His attention is focused on your fingers holding the warm mug. Your hands are often cold and he wishes he could warm them himself. Your eyes linger on his glossy lips, on how their gull shape perfectly mold into the edge of the mug, leaving you practically breathless when you watch the slow up and down of his Adam's apple as he drinks the beverage.

The tea slowly warms up your bodies and without even realizing it, the two of you are closer now. You are basking in the soft, golden light of the room, lost in this moment that you wished would never end.

When Miguel kisses you, it almost feels desperate. It feels like he is trying to absorb your essence, to quench an endless thirst. His lips are just like you've been fantasizing them, if not better. Your back is pressed against the wooden cabinet if the kitchen, your head thrown back as he dives in your sweetness.

His lips taste like the honey he put in his tea and they move with ease on yours. The pace of the kiss is slow, excruciatingly slow. His tongue dives into your mouth, tastes your lips in every possible way while he holds your face firmly.

When his hands start to caress your body over your clothes, you moan into the kiss. Your breath falters and your lashes flutter. You need to hold yourself against the edge of the countertop to not collapse. His hands could be on your hips, your shoulders, your hair and ge still wouldn't stop kissing you.

He feels feverish, ill. Your body feels even softer,more tender than what he could have ever imagined. And yet, your skin is still so firm, every smooth angle on your body perfectly fitting in the palm of his hands. He doesn't know just how far he can go with you without scaring you off. The problem being that he is scared of his own desires himself. It's unlike him to desire anything this bad, to the point that he can't sleep peacefully at night anymore while his body and mind are tortured with the image of you.

He begs you to tell him to stop but you don't and instead you indulge into the kiss, arching your body even more against him, touching him... The sighs your body lets out are low and heavier.

His fingertips caress your neck, your shoulders then run down the length of your body. When his fingertips trace the outline of your chest, a whimpers escapes your lips. He would have never expected you, usually so stern, so calm and collected to act in such a needy way. His hands slip under the hem of your sweater, touching your lower back, the warn skin of your stomach... his hands slide higher on your body until he finally cups your bare breasts still covered by the sweater. A small whimper escapes him when he finally holds them and gets to feel just how smooth and warm your plump flesh is.

He kisses your breasts through your sweater and when he sees how responsive your body is, his appetite only grows more. Your small whimpers finish to make him hard. His raspy voice praises you, tells you just how beautiful you are, how soft, how delicious you taste... your pliable flesh is like the ultimate temptation and he gets lost in these sensations.

Your hands clasp around his face, keeping him close and caressing his hair. A tingling sensation runs straight from your breasts to your core and you're practically sure you're already wet. His callous fingertips make you squirm and release more sounds of pleasure that you would be ashamed of in any other circumstances.

When he finally pulls down the zipper of your jeans and slip his hand under the fabric,a low groan vibrates through his chest. You're so wet that you're practically drenched. He is not better than you and in this case,he can't hide the evidence of his arousal. He should stop, he knows it. But you are already grinding your hips on his hand, humping his fingers in a desperate attempt to get him to touch you. There is no shame on your face and he wished he could be more like you in this moment, shameless enough to only care about your pleasure.

In front of your pleas, he pushes one hooked finger between your plump lips. Even through the fabric of your panties, his digit finds your pleasure point and he presses harder on it with every second. You clench your thighs and moan his name while he caresses you. He is usually taking things slow, taking his time,making sure everything is perfect fie this moment. But he is in a hurry now. He has waited for too long and you want him. Unlike what he was expecting, you want him too. This helps him get rid of his last inhibitions and the two of you are humping each other like two animals in heat now.

His larger body cages you against the cabinet, one of his hands holding your hips while the other pins your hand on the counter top. He looks down on you while the tip of his cock ribs against your folds. Your lips feel so full,their outlines visible in your underwear as they get more engorged with your desire. He is going crazy with this image and he has already made a mess in his pants at this point.

None of you had time to grab a condom and you ended up doing it by rubbing each other's body like that,still wearing your underwear on. His erection pushes, presses against you feel like you're already seeing stars from just the feeling of his fat tip rubbing you over the thin cotton of your panties.

When he reaches his climax, he grunts and can't stop his hips from thrusting against yours one last time. As he leans in front of you, his open collar gives you a hint of his torso. The sight of his wide chest covered in a trail of black and thick curly hair makes you even wetter. Your hands are just about to open his shirt further when the two of you suddenly stop.

There's a noise coming from the front door and you have to stop. Your bodies reluctantly part away, you leaving his warmth and him leaving your softness.

The feeling of shame subsides for the rest of the evening while the two of you have to act like nothing happened but you can't stop thinking about the loss of Miguel buried deep inside your folds and he can't have a minute of peace, fully aware of the warm mess on his thighs.

=================================

This is what 4 hours of sleep,one beer and too much Character AI the last week do to me. Enjoy this mess.

I know I said I wanted to write a slow burn story this time but I didn't want to give you only crumbs, so here's this weird headcanon, smutty one shot but also preview of the upcoming story.

[bumblevoid]

the boy :3

[mist-and-rain]

urghhh my wife

i love my wife

[starandcloud]

A collection of my favorite Hiccup GIFs

I DON'T THINK YOU ALL UNDERSTAND THE FUCKIN CHOKEHOLD THIS MAN HAD ON LIKE- 12 YEAR OLD ME- AND STILL HAS ALMOST SIX YEARS LATER-

I WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE SO FUCKING BAD /l

HE HAS SUCH A PRETTY AND PUNCHABLE FACE I-

[honeyimissjoo]

this is a beer ad for Dazed Korea

[silvercloudedskies]

montgomery forever and ever and ever

[sentient-trash]

A very normal drawing ahead I promise

@steves-strapcollection s oc tig as a demon

[briefkittenearthquake]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, in the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and i’d still ride.

[angelfoodscake]

hello flavio nation

why did i spend so much time on htis i hate this help me

[tabswrites]

OC Art Reveal: Killian Rameau

“They call this place the Ancestral Forest–but our ancestors are not yet a century old. I have a new name for it now, a name that encompasses all it was–and all it ever will be.

It fell from her lips, that puzzling bear of crystal and cream.

‘Follow me to Eternity.’”

Killian is one of the most interesting characters I’ve ever written. He can’t really be defined by traditional archetypes, and he’s too cool to be a plot device.

His name is mentioned less than 20 times throughout the entirety of The Tomb’s Whisper, but he is the most important character.

Father to Hettie, Mara’s idol, martyr, legend to all.

Thank you once again to @drawingrosesonneptune who has drawn almost all of my OC’s and is now the first person to bring an Aura to life!

Check out her other art, and her writing as well @writingrosesonneptune! (If I was physically capable of drawing people, you would be drowning in art, my friend).

TTW tag list: @outpost51 @writernopal @avrablake @writingrosesonneptune @theroseempress (please ask to be +/-)

[tapetum-lucidumb]

Question for writers/artists...

...which I guess is most of you since this is Tumblr: Has anyone else encountered a piece of media that just...completely, utterly, and permanently transformed your relationship to creativity?

I QUIT writing. It was EASY to quit writing. I felt such a sense of release at being able to redefine who I am and who I want to be in life. The only thing approaching a negative emotion–to say nothing of actual regret–was faint surprise at how easy it was to abandon a 20+ year identity marker. I EVEN FOUND A SECOND CALLING THAT I LOVED–AND STILL LOVE!!!!–EVEN MORE THAN I EVER LOVED WRITING.

But then. But then! There's this fun horny video game everyone's talking about. Me being me, I can't hear about a hot vampire twink without googling him. Eh, he's doesn't seem that hot, not really my type. But I am curious about the hype, so maybe I'll watch one more YouTube video...okay maybe another...

Well shit, this is actually extremely well-written.

Well shit, this game is pushing the boundaries of narrative in a way no other medium can.

WELL SHIT, TURNS OUT HYPERFIXATIONS CAN LAST FOR MORE THAN THREE WEEKS

WELL SHIT, I AM LYING NEXT TO MY HUSBAND TRYING TO HIDE THE TEARS I AM SHEDDING OVER A GAME I HAVEN'T EVEN PLAYED YET

WELL SHIT, THIS LITERALLY, ACTUALLY MADE ME HAVE AN EPIPHANY AND REALIZE THE MEANING OF ART

ALSO THERE IS A CAT-OWNING NERDY BOY IN ADDITION TO THE EMO BOY, WHICH IS AGAINST THE RULES BECAUSE NOTHING SHOULD EVER BE THIS POWERFUL

Like. Just.

Friends, I was so convinced I'd quit. I got deep into it too! Former professional editor here. Because of my privilege, I had more knowledge and experience of the publishing world than 99% of people my age, and I still turned my back. And even though I'm never going back to tradpub because obviously, even though I still think I'm an athlete instead of an artist at my core, even though I'm not even trying to be *good* at it...

Jesus fuck, I'm writing again.

There's plenty of media I've loved. I was a writer–how could there not be? The Last of Us, Midnight Burger, and Our Flag Means Death brought me so much comfort and joy. And that is more than enough. But never before has a piece of fiction made a concrete, tangible impact in what I do every day and how I live my life. That's never been what I wanted or expected art to do. Art is meaningless. It can comfort you, but it doesn't have to "make a difference" to have value.

And yet.

Larian Studios, how dare you create something so impossibly beautiful. You will never know I exist. But for this one internet stranger, you've changed everything.

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Misraaks: *is mentioned*

Me:

[claustrophobicandexcatholic]

The Collection as it currently stands ❤️

[thegroundsofbrooklyn]

jeremy jordan. like if you agree