Kinktober Is Officially A Work In Progress

Kinktober is officially a work in progress 🙂‍↕️

https://gofund.me/a1d1a50c

Hello,

my name is Osama Thaer, Palestine - Gaza Strip, I was living happily before the war, I have a younger sister. I was going to school, living my daily life normally, playing football because I love it, but now the war has prevailed and succeeded in everything in the past, and now our life has become hell. I am here asking for your support and compassion. Our family is facing imminent danger every day, please consider our GoFundMe to help us escape this horrific situation with our beloved one safe.

Hello everyone!

Please consider donating to Osama and to those who have fallen victim during these difficult times in Palestine 🍉

Money is a tight issue right now, but if you can spare a few dollars, please do so for Osama and others who are struggling.

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Anyways here is the official gofundme set up by sonya masseys surviving family if you have the ability to give her family real tangible support

me everytime I read words like "reader blushed pink" in a fanfic

What if I start listening to Frank Ocean?

Thank y'all for the 500 notes on this 🥹

I guess some of all of you aren't just smut enthusiasts. (dw I still love all of you tho ❤️)

Imagine dbf Miguel…

art credit to a lovely moot here @gltzpzy your art gives me life 🙂‍↕️

Wearing one of his undershirts, you stand idly at his door. You shake your head in disbelief, feeling childish at the idea of you being at his bedroom door at four in the morning. With a fist, you raise it to knock on the door but fail. You didn't want to interrupt his seven hours of sleep.

“This is stupid…” You think as you slowly back away from the door.

The floorboard under your feet creaked, creating a loud groan from your heavy weight against the sensitive wood. You scrunch your brows and close your eyes shut.

“¿Princesa?” His voice sends vibrations down your spine. “Yeah?” You croak out, your tone cracking.

“Are you having trouble sleeping, princesa?”

“…no?”

The silence was enough to tell you that he raised a brow from skepticism, and you could feel it through that wooden door.

“Okay, maybe I am. I keep hearing the neighbors singing drunkardly. And I wondered if I could sleep in your room tonight.” Silence sags the cold air, but the sound of the bed creaking from the other side of the door is enough to sink a sense of guilt into you.

The door swings open, and the smell of his cologne lingers in the air before the sensation of his hand ruffling the crown of your head. “C’mon in,” he sighs before gently tugging you into the room.

The sight of his messy bed, mostly bedsheets, indicated that he was enjoying a good night's sleep before you interrupted.

“Get into bed. I warmed it up for you…” he grumbles, a half-ass attempt at a joke. He combed his bed hair back before he took the left side of the bed, allowing you to take the right side.

The moment your body landed on his mattress, the softness and warmth enveloped you like a crispy burnt marshmallow on an autumn evening. “Ven para acá, princesa.” He waves his hand over after he settles down on the bed.

“¿Just get some sleep, m’kay?” He sighs, pulling you closer to his chest while rubbing a gentle hand on your arm. “¿Duérmete, okay?”

You nod before you snuggle closer to him. “Es hora de dormir, ignora los vecinos.” He sighs, his lips resting against your temple. “Duérmete…” He mumbles.

Bonus:

The shock of waking up to 300 pounds against your chest is enough to scare anyone, especially if this 300 pounds embracing you close with no escape, especially with a loud snore filling your ears at eight in the goddamn morning.

“Dammit, Miguel.”