#⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝜗𝜚⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

[bluemerakis]

and this is the beauty and tragedy behind onism. you will never know somebody the way that they know themselves and how they perceive you. it’s beautiful because so many people may love you in ways you aren’t aware of. this is exactly why we need to go through life remembering that we are perceived by others in so many ways, and a lot of them matter because it reinforces that YOU matter. that you’ve impacted them in ways you could’ve never imagined. and this is also why you are more loved than you know!

[rafeslittlepup]

I need bunny doing the TikTok prank where the kids tell their mom to shut up in front of dad and how rafe reacts, bc we know he does not play about his wife

jamie walks in with a forced casualness, says "ugh mom, shut up!" while she was talking about what's for breakfast today

instant silence.

rafe who's sitting at the breakfast table nose, looks up in slow motion. he doesn't yell, doesn't even blink at first.

"what the hell did you just say?" with a low tone. southern father death tone.

bunnywife immediately starts giggling, but tries to hide it.

"baby, it's a prank. he didn't mean it, we saw it on tiktok-"

rafe stands up like a BEAR

"a prank? we don't play like that in this house. you don't ever talk to your mama that way. i don't care if it's for a damn joke..."

meanwhile, the twins are cackling in the background and rosie looks like she's about to cry because she thought daddy was actually mad

jamie instantly breaks, "i'm sorry mommy!"

and rate softens just a little, shakes his head like these damn kids and pulls bunnywife into a one-armed hug

[delilahsturniolo]

𓂃 𝜗᭪ brat tamer!matt making you beg to cum

⤷ everyone thank @mattsstarlet for telling me to bring back brat tamer matt

⤷ contains smut, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, degradation, cockwarming, teasing, daddy kink, spanking.

you and matt had just returned home after a fun day out at the mall, his arm wrapped around your waist as he guided you inside. you couldn't help but notice the smug grin plastered on his face, already aware of his intentions once you reached his room. and as soon as you stepped through the door, he wasted no time at all. with a firm hand, he pushed you forward, forcing you to bend over the edge of his bed.

"you think that shits funny? catchin’ an attitude with me out in public?”he chuckled, his hot breath ghosting against your exposed neck. "now be a good little slut and spread those legs for daddy." there was no point in arguing, you knew exactly what you wanted. obediently, you spread your legs apart, allowing him to see just how wet you were for him. "mm... somebody's excited," he teased, slipping a single digit into your heat. "do you like that, baby? do you like being stuffed full?”

he slowly pumped his finger in and out, not enough to give you any real satisfaction but more than enough to drive you crazy. and with every push, he made sure to twist it just right, dragging a deep moan from your lips. when he finally added a second finger, it was like a dam had broken. a loud, needy cry escaped your lips, your hips writhing against his hand.

"such a greedy little slut," he groaned, pumping his fingers faster. "keep making those noises and i might just have to stuff you full of my cock." his words alone were enough to push you to the edge. with a strangled gasp, you tightened around his fingers, ready to tip over into pure bliss... until he pulled out abruptly. a whine of frustration bubbled up in your chest, forcing you to glare at him over your shoulder. “matt!” you whine, pouting.

"no, no, no," he scolded, pushing your bucking hips down. "you don't get to cum yet. not until you say sorry for that attitude earlier." but the truth was... you thought you had nothing to apologize for. so instead of begging forgiveness, you only shrugged nonchalantly. “didn’t do anything wrong.” you smirked, knowing what was coming. and before you knew it, the first spank landed against your ass cheek, hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt.

"such a bratty slut," he muttered, spanking you again. "think you can do whatever the fuck you want, huh? think again." he continued to spank you, each smack making you jump slightly but also pushing you closer and closer to the edge. and then without warning, he thrust into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. you cried out at the sudden intrusion, the pain mixing with the pleasure in the most intoxicating way.

"i love it when you squeal like that," he groaned, gripping your hips tightly. "makes me wanna pound into your tight little pussy until you can't walk straight." he began to move, his hips snapping back into yours with a loud clap. each thrust was harder than the last, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. and yet still, he refused to let you cum. with every cry and whine, he fucked into you harder and harder until you were nothing more than a needy mess. “matt—p—please!!” you pouted, he shook his head. “hold it. fuckin’ hold it.” he demanded, you grunted. “i can’t.”

"you can and you will. beg for it," he commanded, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "beg for permission to cum around daddy's cock." with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, you did just that. "please," you sobbed, pushing back against him desperately. "please let me cum, matt. i need to cum, i’m sorry!!”

and finally, finally, he relented. with a vicious thrust, he pushed you over the edge. your orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching down on him in rhythmic waves. he grunted and cursed above you, finally reaching his own release and filling you with his cum. matt didn’t pull out though, he kept his cock stuffed inside of you as you collapsed onto the bed, completely spent. and with a soft sigh, he climbed into bed beside you. "watch that attitude next time," he murmured, stroking your hair. "but you're such a good girl... taking everything daddy gives you like the perfect little slut you are."

© delilahsturniolo

[lacydaydream]

Riots and Scenes

⤷ Mark Meachum

Mark Meachum x fem!nurse!reader

summary: There’s a riot in Palmdale- and you’re the lucky nurse who gets to give him medical assistance.

estelle yapping: let the Mark brainrot commence!

cw: slight violence. eludes to gross interactions for the reader. that’s really it!

word count: 1.9k

The unmistakable sound of feet pounding down the hallway catches your attention, head snapping up to look through the med bay. Six officers run down the hall, tactical vests on and weapons drawn. Their silhouettes are seen through the small windows in the locked doors and through the bars of the cells.

A beeping sound starts in the room you’re in, the shrill tone making your stomach drop. There’s a riot in the prison. Which means you’ll be put to work, patching up criminals. Some of them need to be handcuffed at their hands and feet because of their horrifying crimes. Men who smile at you while there is still blood caked under their fingernails. The men who croon out a ‘sweetheart’ with a sleazy gin, eyes glinting with something that makes your heart drop.

Nerves bubble up in your abdomen as you swing your stethoscope behind your neck, the cool metal hitting your skin. There’s no time to throw on your lab coat, the sound of officers yelling and inmates shouting getting closer.

Maybe if you knew when you started med school you’d end up in a prison med bay, you wouldn’t have gone through that first semester of college. Ever since you could remember, saving lives always felt like your calling. Being the one to work in a lab and catch early signs of cancer that save a life had been the dream. But life’s funny like that– the universe always wanted a good laugh. It didn’t matter that you always dreamt of helping people– in all transparency, you were helping people. It’s just that some of these people had gutted and strung up women.

And most of them couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. You’d stopped wearing lip gloss after the first month. Stopped holding eye contact for longer than necessary. The insides of Palmdales’ walls were quick teachers.

You get paged into a sectioned-off room, dodging through other nurses and doctors running around helping patients and officers. A huff leaves your lips as you approach the sliding glass door, a small contraption blinking by the handle. You wait for one of the officers behind the wall to unlock the door.

When a click is heard, the door starts slowly sliding open. Like any prison, it smells like antiseptic and body odor. You’ve gotten used to it– years of practice being a big help. Your eyes glance around at the white walls, peering into a tinted window.

A burly man in uniform is sitting behind the window, tucked away at a desk scattered with monitors. He looks like he’s in his early forties, the apparent donuts between breaks catching up to his waistline. The man taps a key and the door slides shut behind you, squeaking like nails on a chalkboard.

The soft clicking sound of a lock comes next. Then, the next sliding glass door that finally opens up to the secluded room beeps, the contraption by the door handle blinking green. Unlocked, finally. When you squint, you can see two blurry figures. A man in blue, who you assume is the inmate, and a man in a suit.

They seem to be engaged in a heated conversation. The blur of blue is shaking his head, using his hands as he speaks. You can see slight sass in the man’s body language. An inaudible sigh leaves your lips, already knowing this patient is going to be a thorn in your side. It’s always the ones who talk too much. The ones to try to charm their way out of rules.

The door slides open and you walk through, flashing the badge you left hanging around your neck. The man behind the window throws up a hand, ushering you to continue on your path toward your apparent next patient.

As you walk in, over the sound of the glass door squeaking, you hear two men talking over each other.

“Not a riot,” one of them grumbles, a soft southern accent that sounds like whiskey splashed with honey.

When you turn the corner, wide doe-eyes and dressed in soft pink scrubs, both men turn. Your eyes flicker over the man in the suit, and you recognize him as the guard who often takes the night shift. He’s kind– often offering to grab you water from the kitchen.

Then your eyes land on the patient. His skin is tan, muscles taut under the blue prison jumpsuit. His hair is a chestnut brown. It’s obvious someone just raked a hand through it, locks falling over his forehead. His eyes are a bright green. In the obnoxious overhead light, you can see how they carry confidence. The sort of confidence that made you feel bare, whether you wanted to or not.

Just the way he sits on the metal table– his posture lax, forearm resting against his knee– tells you everything. Even from across the room, his presence demands attention. Almost like he has his own gravitational pull.

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes trailing up his muscular frame. It’s not often you get to help a patient that, for lack of a better term, is hot. Judging by the small pull of his lips, he can see your thoughts written right across your face. And worse, he liked it.

Officer Thompson turns, offering a small smile. “Sorry for dragging you all the way here.” He lets you walk over, weaving behind you as he walks toward the door. “This is our riot starter. Please notify the guard outside when your examination is done.” Thompson turns, offering a small smile once again. “I’ve got to help with the cleanup.”

You offer a polite smile back, nodding as he makes his way out. When you turn back to the man sitting in front of you, your smile drops.

He’s staring up at you. Eyes scanning your figure as if assessing you, skillfully analyzing your posture and micro-expressions. “Wasn’t a riot,” he drawls, gaze catching yours.

You swallow, taking the stethoscope from around your neck and putting it on. “Really?” you ask him, walking up and placing the cool metal plate against his chest. “Deep breath.”

He obliges, not a bit of trepidation in his movements.

“Was defending myself, darlin’.” He tilts his head to capture your gaze. “Some guy tried to jump me. Couldn’t not do anything.”

You nod, trying to keep the thoughts about his warm skin from your mind. Even in prison, locked away for God only knows what, he smells good. He smells like soap and something indescribable. A small part of you wanted to lean in closer, learn the stories behind his eyes. Another part wanted to sprint towards the door.

Focus, woman! Professionalism. Working. Job. Yes.

Continuing on with checking his chest and back, you notice his eyes drop to your chest. His eyes aren’t lustful like most of the men sulking around the walls– his gaze is curious. Is something on your shirt? Before you can reprimand him for his wandering eyes, you realize he’s looking at your lanyard. The badge that hangs on the hook states your name, occupation, and even has a smiling picture of you from a year or so back. Back before you stopped smiling at people like that. Back when people didn’t use your name to feel like a weapon or uncomfortable cloak.

You straighten, the equipment slung back over your neck as you deem his heart rate fine. None of his air passages are blocked, his breathing clear. You almost want to blush for your assumption of his character. He’s far different– more poised and witty than the other inmates.

“Not much of a talker?” he questions gently, fingers grazing your waist. His touch is almost unnoticeable over your scrubs. Cocky confidence dances in his eyes, watching your reactions with an almost analytic gaze.

“I’m working,” you murmur, fingers grazing his skin as you check his lymph nodes. No swelling. Just stubble from his short beard and warm skin. Your mind wanders to wonder if he could feel the tiny shake in your hand. If he does, he gives no indication of it. Maybe that’s worse.

You can feel heat rising under your skin– the kind that would linger well after you clock out for the night.

“Doing a fine job, too,” he muses, looking up at you. “Hell, I felt better the second your pretty face came in here.” He grins, voice smooth as aged whiskey.

Despite the implications of his words, they don’t ignite a feeling of annoyance in your chest. This isn’t new to you. A bunch of men locked up in a penitentiary getting access to a pretty girl whose whole job is to take care of them? Yeah, you’re no stranger to the offhanded inappropriate comment.

But his comments aren’t about being inappropriate. He seems sincere– like the words simply fall from his lips naturally. The absence of a boner is also a helpful point in his favor.

“Are you feeling lightheaded? Blurred vision?” you list off the usual questions, trying your best to stay professional. You glance down for a second to bite your lip. If you crack a grin, you already know he’s the type of guy to run with it.

“M’alright, darling. Got a great vision in front of me.” He grins at himself, clearly proud of his remark.

And despite your best protest, a soft scoff leaves your lips. It’s a soft chuckle at how hard he’s trying, obviously finding his own reach amusing. “Alright, you’re fine…”

He grins, knowing he’s won the silent battle.

“Mark.” His voice is calm, wrapped in cocky confidence, yet still soft enough to show he means every word he says.

“Mark,” you contend, offering a genuine smile. “Your vitals are normal. Which means my job is done. I’ll need you to monitor your body tonight in case anything feels wonky.”

Mark nods, listening to you with a set expression. “Yes ma’am.” His eyes narrow out of curiosity, lip curling up. “I should come right back to you if something feels off?”

You take a step back, nodding. “If I’m on shift.”

Mark’s expression hardens as the gears turn quickly in his mind for a response. His gaze drops to your lips before slowly tracing over your features. He catches your gaze, a smoky air of magnetism seemingly circling around him. “When are you on shift? In case my body starts feeling wonky later.”

You shake your head, looking up at him. Right as your lips purse to form a slightly sarcastic reply, the door behind you opens. Then, the reality of the situation sets back in. You’re in a prison. With an inmate. Somewhere along the last ten minutes, you’d gotten lost in his charm– drawl fully capturing your senses. Forgetting any possibility that could have landed him in prison.

This is a man who could have done anything. For all you know, he could have murdered someone in cold blood.

You look over to see a man wrapped in a blue suit– an older gentleman with a badge on his hip. FBI. Yeah, that’s your cue to leave. You hum, turning back to offer Mark a small smile before quickly scurrying toward the door.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mark calls after you, voice controlled as he glances toward the man clad in a suit. His eyes flash in a sort of recognition, but the look is gone as soon as it comes.

When you turn, hearing the soft beep of the door, your face is softly flushed from the pet name. Your eyes catch his gaze like his mere presence demands it.

“Have a good shift.”

[bluemerakis]

d.w who can only get off once he gets you off

when he’s dripping precum from eating you out

[y3sterdaysproblem]

DARK WAVE AU INTRO

how sunshine and alt!chris met

“welcome in.”

the monotonous voice drones out from across the record store, making your best friend next to you chuckle. “it’s me, chris,” she calls out, making the boy at the counter lift his head suddenly. “oh, hi,” he says with a small, closed mouth smile, sending a wave her way. his eyes glance over at you for a split second before he looks back down at the catalog in front of him.

“where’s matt? i have something for you both.” iris tells him, walking up to stand on the other side of the counter, placing a small tupperware container on it. you follow behind her, eyes wandering around the cute record shop you’d never been to, listening to the music floating through the air.

“matt!” chris yells suddenly, startling you out of your thoughts. you turn your attention back to him, seeing him pulling the container closer to him and peeling it open. “iris is here! with…” his eyes flick up at you and he furrowed his eyes for a moment. “a girl!”

you let out a small giggle at his choice of words, the girlish sound causing him to narrow his eyes at you before he looks away again. matt emerges from the office tucked away in the back corner of the record store, a smile instantly blooming on his face when his eyes land on his girlfriend waiting patiently for him.

“hi, sweetheart,” he says as he walks closer, wrapping his arm around your friend and pressing his lips against her cheek briefly. “hi,” she beams at him, hugging him quickly before she pulls away and goes to stand next to you. “you know my best friend i’m always telling you about?”

matt looks past iris and towards you, his expression brightening as he realizes who you are. “yeah. sunshine, right?” he asks politely, stepping away from his girlfriend to reach a hand out towards you which you take, shaking it gently. “that’s me!” you beam, smile near twinkling in the sun shining through the windows.

he smiles back at you almost just as blindingly, immediately understanding everything iris has told him about you. “i’m matt and this is my brother chris,” he introduces, gesturing over to the boy behind the counter quickly. chris doesn’t do or say anything, just continues watching the interaction unfold. you bounce over to the register and reach your hand over the counter, french manicure pointing towards him. “hi, chris,” you drawl with a flirtatious undertone that iris laughs at.

chris looks down at your hand then back up at your eyes, almost like he’s trying to figure out how hard he’s judging you before settling on very hard. “hi,” he responds, keeping his hands at his sides. this doesn’t deter you, though, smile still wide. “it’s nice to finally meet you both, i hear a lot about you!” you tell them, placing both hands on your hips and spinning back to face matt who was way more interested in holding a conversation.

“likewise,” matt responds kindly. “what are you guys stopping in for?”

iris’s face lights up as she remembers your reason for stopping in, grabbing the tupperware she had brought from chris who was already inspecting the contents. “we brought you guys some breakfast sandwiches since i figured you’re both running on a monster and nicotine.”

matt lets out a low “mmm” at the sight and smell hitting his senses, wasting no time in reaching for one and taking a bite, finding it to still be warm. chris grabs the second one inside and does the same, biting into it and humming in satisfaction. “thanks, iris,” he says with a mouthful of food which makes you chuckle, finding his mannerisms charming despite his very clear effort in making you disinterested. “oh, sunny made them,” iris tells chris, refusing to take any of the credit.

chris looks back up at you, expression completely unreadable as he chewed, waiting until he swallowed to nod his head in your direction and offer a quiet ��thanks’ before taking another bite.

you weren’t sure if it was his obvious lack of interest in you or the way he desperately tried to appear mysterious and surface level, but one thing you were sure of was you wanted to uncover all of his layers and get him to open up to you in a way he refused to do with anybody else, and from that day on in the tiny record shop, you were hooked.

[d3er-b0nes]

I’m gonna do my real name cause why not

M - Méléna (Eths)

A - Arizona Calling (Machinery of the Human Heart)

T - Talkin Like You (Connie Converse)

Y - Yummy (Ayesha Erotica)

L - Legs Away (Mother Mother)

D - Dead Bodies (Air)

A - A Rush and a Push and the Land is Ours (The Smiths)

@grisleyaftermath @hotboyrailroad @hisblackconverse @oucchhoucchh @oscillating-fan-whore5 @sweetechinacea + open tag :]

MOOT / TAG GAME !

mission— spell your real name / name you use on tumblr with songs you like >< ready, set, go !

m — my love, mine all mine (mitski)

i — i love you, i’m sorry (gracie abrams)

c — coraline (lyn lapid)

k — killshot (magdalena bay)

i — i know you (faye webster)

e — either way (ive)

tagging— @puma-riki @flwrstqr @liwinly @woniefication @lilificationn @stvrriki @okwonyo + anyone else who wants to join !

[lilolebambi]

tap out. . . m.s.

You're a mess. Sweaty hair sticking to your forehead, palms clammy as you hang onto the sheets for dear life—trying to take everything Matt's giving you. He made it very clear he wasn't letting up until he had enough of you.

You whine as he kisses you, silencing your complaints. "I can't—" You gasp as he kisses down your jaw, "Matt, I can't take anymore—"

He laughs softly, spreading your legs to watch his cum leak out of your messy cunt. "Y'tired already, baby?" He teases, settling between your legs again. "I can fuck you like this for hours.."

"Matt—" He ignores your protests, already rubbing his cock through your sensitive folds. "Shhhh, jus' one more, sweetheart. You can take it." He pushes inside slowly, groaning at how easy it is to slide into your soaked pussy. "Fuckkkk.. I love this pussy.." You gasp, trembling at his slow, deep pace.

"You're so fucking tight, even after all that cum. Can't get enough of me, huh?" You mewl, "S-shut up."

He chuckles darkly, leaning down to nip your ear. "Make me." He thrusts deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. "Or do you want me to keep talking about how perfect this pussy is?"

You shake your head, desperately. "Nononono— embarrassing, embarrassing, so embarrassing-" You babble out, Matt just smirks. He spreads your legs wider, going even deeper. "Y'sound so dirty when you take it, your little whines just make me wanna pound this little pussy harder." He slows down his thrusts, making them slow and torturous.

He leans down to suck a mark on your neck, his tongue swirls around your skin. "Like this? Like feeling every inch of me?" You're unable to answer, hot tears running down your face as he snaps his hips forward.

Both of you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body betraying you to show off how much you're enjoying this slow, deep fucking. He reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles, his voice low and husky. "That's it, gonna make you cum so hard, baby. Gonna make you a mess..."

He can tell you're getting close, your walls fluttering around him. "Matt—" He shushes you, "Shhh, let go for me..." He increases the pressure on your clit and starts pounding you harder, hips pressing against yours. "Make a mess on my dick."

You see white, a choked sob leaving your mouth as your orgasm crashes off of you like a tidal wave. "Fuck yes," He groans deeply, enjoying the mess of your and his juices between you. "That's it..."

You pant heavily, eyes locking with his as you come down from your high. "One more?"

a/n: MAKE HER TAPOUT, TAPOUT.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @angelyearner @pink1man @mi-co-uk @slvt4subchratt @tezzzzzzzz @chrisbratt333 @izzylovesmatt @chrisowenmuncher @bluestriips

[kitsunedollz]

⠀૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა 𝓨ou in the eyes of your future spouse | pick a pile!

⋆ remembering that this is a collective reading for entertainment purposes ONLY. nothing it’s set on stone so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

꒰ఎ♡໒꒱ how to choose a pile: don't complicate it, just trust your intuition and choose the image that catches your eye!

𝜗𝜚 PILE ONE

❦ ₊ ˚ without a doubt your future spouse loves you (otherwise they wouldn't even marry you lol) and they are a protective partner towards you, so in general, they see you as someone they should protect and care for. therefore, they can act as your knight in armor when you need it, as they are always ready to protect and defend you from all those who try to hurt you. they also view your relationship dynamics as if you are the sun and the moon (for some of you reading this pile, you are more the moon and your future spouse is the sun or vice versa). your future spouses see you as a beautiful and attractive person, as if you were a mermaid who mesmerizes them with your enchanting beauty. and one of the physical features they love most about you in general are your eyes because, in the eyes of your future partner, they shine in a way that they have never seen before with anyone. not only do your eyes shine, but in your future partner's vision, you light up their entire life. before you met and were together, they saw life in a gray way due to the adversities they faced on a daily basis and, thanks to you, they felt life gain more color, they felt love and it was as if their eyes open themselves up to everything they had never experienced before in their lives. you probably met early and one of the things they love most is being able to look at old photos you took - whether it was when you first met, when you started dating or just photos of you together in general - and admire how you used to be and they probably compare themselves to the old version of themselves in the photo and it's really funny because you could be looking at your photos together and they laughs, points to their face in the photo and says something like “wow, I was weird” and it’s a really cute moment between you two. they feels nostalgic in these moments and really misses that time, because unfortunately it doesn't come back and all that remains are memories (and fortunately they are good). in the eyes of your future partner, you are going through a difficult time in your life. It's not just your partner who is a nostalgic person, you are too and you probably remember the times when your life was easier and compare it to the difficult life you have now – like when you were children, for example. they also see that you are tired and stressed about the way things in your life are – for example, you may work long hours at jobs you don't like just so you can pay the bills at the end of the month, you have to put up with people you hate and it even seems like you let people step on you so that problems don't occur (you can be people-pleasers too) and your biggest victory of the day is going home and sleeping, all while repressing what you're feeling and putting on a fake smile. your future spouse is your family and they can tell when you are feeling bad and they think that you are being too hard on yourselves and that you may not want to admit it, but you need to seek professional help. so, if this is your case, don't be afraid or ashamed to ask for help! this is destroying your mental health, pile one, please take care of yourselves!! stop bottling up your feelings, process them, let them go, and then stand back – do this for yourself. ⊹ …

𝜗𝜚 PILE TWO

❦ ₊ ˚ in the view of your future spouses, you are a person who doesn't like to fight in your relationship and who tends to avoid conflicts so as not to cause major problems. you may even end up staying quiet instead of taking a stand on something that bothered you and your future partners also think that you can't express yourself very well through words. it's okay not to want to fight in a relationship, because who does? but, you must understand that some conflicts are necessary and need to happen, so don't run away from them, position yourself and choose your battles well bc you don't need to fight over stupid things either lol. in the eyes of your future partner, you are a disorganized person, the type who leaves their clothes scattered all over the floor or easily forgets where their left their things because everything around them is just a mess – and they think this is just a reflection of how you are feeling inside and how your mind is going. in fact, they may think that your inability to communicate effectively in the relationship is due to problems such as depression or anxiety. regardless of what your case may be, your future partners notice this and care about you, they accept you exactly as you are and they will not leave you in this difficult time. you may be facing mental health problems, which leave you tired and without energy to do basic tasks like tidying your room and that's okay, just don't forget to take good care of yourself and, if necessary, seek professional help as it will be very beneficial for you! for some of you reading this pile, before you finally became a couple, you and your future partner were best friends and all this time they tried to convince themselves that you were just that, but deep down they wanted to be tying you to the bed 🤭. they really wanted you and things are no different now. you also seem to be a popular couple who attract the attention of other people wherever you go, as if you were a celebrity couple or just people who are very loved by others.In general, your future spouse is very jealous and possessive of you, so they want to be the only ones who can touch you in this way and just imagining people other than them touching your body the way they love to touch you so much chills down their spine lol. just like in pile one, one of the physical features they love most are your eyes and they love just looking at them. one of the activities they love to do with you is traveling – in fact, any time they can spend time with you makes them happy. in their view, in moments when you're feeling bad, you tend to walk away just to calm down - and for some reading this pile, this could apply to your future partner. your future spouse is so cute, because in the moments when they notice you are down, they do everything they can to make you laugh or just smile. ⊹ …

𝜗𝜚 PILE THREE

❦ ₊ ˚ your future spouse is totally devoted and blind with love for you, pile three! in the eyes of your future partner, they can't live without you and they can't even imagine what their life would be like if they didn't have you by their side. it seems like from the first moment you met, just by looking at you, they felt attracted and didn't waste any time, they went to ask you out on a date lol. just like the future spouses in pile two, your future partners are also jealous, the only difference is that they seem to be more jealous than the partners in the previous pile, because just seeing you going out, having fun with your friends without them around your side already makes them jealous. the future spouses in this pile think that you still don't know all sides of them even though you are together. they may have red flags that you haven't noticed or ignore, so it's good to be careful. they may have addictions like alcohol or drugs, they may be overly possessive/jealous, controlling, aggressive or end up giving you the silent treatment or distancing you from them when you fight or there is a problem going on in your life as a couple – and maybe that's why you feel the need to walk on eggshells in your relationship to try to prevent your partner from acting that way towards you, which isn't cool. if for any reason you are uncomfortable, they disrespect your boundaries or you simply no longer want to be in the relationship, don't be afraid to walk away! because of what I mentioned above, your future spouses see you as someone who doesn't raise their voice in a fight, who doesn't point the finger in their face when they're wrong - they see you as someone who basically never showed their bad side to them. In their view, you understand them. your future partners may also be individualistic and not have a black and white view of life – that is, they do not follow concepts such as “good” and “bad” and usually only do what is beneficial for them. furthermore, they usually give back to others what they first received or what they think others deserve. but when it comes to you, it's different. It seems like they control themselves and use the power they have to give you what is good – they know they can affect your life, so they choose to affect it in a positive way. in my opinion they are weird, ngl lol. even though I think they're weird lmao, they would be willing to go through hell with you if necessary. they would be with you in times when no one else would be and they would be your refuge, ready to hug you and comfort you. but, just in case, be careful with emotional dependence, don't be afraid to set boundaries and, if necessary, let go of relationships that no longer serve you!

⠀⠀⠀⠀Ꮺ୧ ˚ ﹒⠀⠀⠀⠀૮ ྀི⳿ ◞ ◟ 𑁬ྀི⠀that was all! I really hope you enjoyed it and that the reading resonated with you. ♡ dividers by doll-fairy & kodaswrld

[hazelira]

won step closer

𝐰𝐨𝐧 ⋆ ｡ · ° ʚ 🐱 ɞ ° ‧ ｡ ⋆ 𝐰𝐨𝐧

There was a hush in the air that afternoon. It wasn’t the quiet that filled spaces when words were missing, nor was it the sleepy lull of a day slipping into evening. A softness sat on your shoulders like sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, the quiet that wraps itself around a heart too whole to speak.

You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers trembling around a stick no longer hidden in the bathroom drawer.

Two lines.

Faint. Delicate. But there.

The kind of lines that changed lives.

The world didn’t spin or shatter or burst into song. The clock still ticked. The hum of the fridge still sang from the kitchen. Outside, leaves rustled in their usual disinterest. But your world had shifted entirely. There was a ripple in your very soul.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

With his child.

With Jungwon’s baby.

You didn’t know how long you sat there. The air moved around you, time passed, shadows lengthened on the floor—but your thoughts stayed still. Anchored to that single thought, wrapped in both awe and terror.

And love.

So much love. You thought your ribs might splinter while trying to contain it.

The door opened downstairs sometime later—his keys jangling, the low thud of his shoes being kicked off. “Babe? I’m home!”

Your voice caught. You scrambled to your feet, hiding the test in the drawer, hands smoothing over your sweater automatically, as if that could hide the truth blooming quietly, profoundly, inside you.

Jungwon’s footsteps approached, warm and familiar.

He found you in the bedroom, standing too stiffly, eyes too wide.

He smiled. That soft, sleepy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made him look every bit the boy you fell in love with.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his cheek into your hair. “You okay?”

You turned, leaned into him. Inhaled the scent of his cologne—cedar, laundry, and something inherently his. Your eyes stung.

There would never be a perfect time to say it. No dramatic backdrop, no fireworks. Just now. Just this.

You whispered it against his chest.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, you weren’t sure if he heard you. He didn’t speak, didn’t move. You felt his breath catch. Then slowly, he leaned back and looked at you, really looked.

And then, his eyes filled.

His hands reached for your face like he was holding something sacred.

“Wait—say that again,” he whispered, voice cracking.

You smiled, eyes blurring. “We’re having a baby, Wonie. I just found out.”

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He pulled you into him, holding you with every inch of love his body could give. His shoulders shook. Your tears soaked into his sweater. The room blurred, but you felt every beat of his heart against yours.

At that moment, the world had fallen away.

The weeks blurred in golden strokes.

You began noticing little things—how Jungwon’s eyes softened whenever he looked at you, lingering like he memorized you again, how his hand would subconsciously drift to your belly in his sleep, even before you began to show.

You took weekly photos, at his insistence. “So we can look back,” he’d say, kneeling in front of you with his phone, beaming like your glow lit up the room. Sometimes he’d kiss your belly even before there was anything to see.

You called the baby peanut at first. Jungwon liked beanie. Eventually, you settled on Eunwon—her name, even before she existed. A soft blend of his and yours. It felt right. Like a whisper carried on the wind from a future you could almost touch.

There were quiet evenings spent lying on the couch, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving gently through your hair. Sometimes you’d talk about baby names and nurseries and lullabies. Other nights, you said nothing—just listened to the rain and the lull of his heartbeat.

He was patient.

When nausea made you cry into the toilet bowl at 2 AM, he was beside you, holding your hair, rubbing circles into your back.

When your moods swung like a pendulum, he never pulled away. He held your hand through every wave.

When your body changed—bloated, aching, unfamiliar—he kissed every stretch mark like a love letter.

“You’re beautiful,” he’d murmur. “So beautiful.”

And sometimes, when you couldn’t believe it, you’d think of him instead.

The first time she kicked, you were reading on the couch.

It was like a flutter—soft, quick. Your hand flew to your belly, mouth parting in shock.

“Wonie!” you called, voice cracking.

He was in the kitchen, making tea. Dropped everything and ran.

You grabbed his hand and pressed it low on your belly.

“Wait… just wait…”

There. Another flutter.

His eyes widened like the sky had opened.

“She—she moved?” he whispered.

“She kicked.”

Jungwon laughed, eyes brimming. Then he leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering something too soft for even you to hear.

You smiled.

You’d never felt more full. Not of food, or air, or sound.

But of life.

In the seventh month, Jungwon painted the nursery.

He let you pick the colour—soft sage green. He played music as he worked, his shirt stained with paint and humming under his breath. You sat in the rocking chair, swollen feet propped on a stool, watching the love of your life prepare the world for someone he hadn’t even met yet—but already loved with all he had.

He cried again when you placed the little onesies into the drawers.

“She’s going to be so small,” he murmured, holding up a pair of socks no bigger than his thumb. “How is that real?”

You placed your hands over his. “Because we made her.”

He kissed you. The kind of kiss that didn’t rush. That said, thank you for choosing me to be her dad.

The night before your due date, neither of you slept.

Jungwon stayed beside you, his hand resting on your belly, tracing gentle patterns.

“What if I’m not ready?” you whispered into the dark.

He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled you closer.

“Then we’ll not be ready together.”

You laughed, even as tears stung. “I’m scared.”

“I know. Me too.”

“But I love her so much already.”

He pressed his lips to your temple. “Me too. And you. Always you.”

Labour was slow. Then suddenly. Then slow again.

You didn’t remember everything. There were flashes—bright hospital lights, the smell of antiseptic, Jungwon’s voice steady in your ear as he held your hand through every wave of pain.

You screamed. You wept. You begged for it to stop.

He never let go.

“Almost there, baby. You’re doing so well. I’m right here.”

When the cries filled the room—high-pitched, real, hers—you sobbed so hard your whole body trembled.

And then they placed her on your chest.

Tiny. Wet. Wailing.

Yours.

Jungwon broke.

He wept openly, mouth pressed to your forehead as he cupped both of you in his arms.

“She’s so perfect,” he choked. “Oh my God—she’s perfect.”

You stared down at her, at the little life growing under your heart for nine months.

Eunwon.

She blinked up at you with cloudy eyes, hiccuped, then quieted.

You looked at Jungwon, tears streaking his cheeks, eyes alight with something transcendent.

“Hiii,” you whispered to her, voice trembling. “Welcome home.”

The weeks that followed were quiet and chaotic, sacred and sleepless.

You learned how to swaddle and cry while holding her at 3 AM. You knew that love didn’t stop growing, even when you thought it had reached its limit.

Jungwon was a natural. Patient, gentle, endlessly giving.

He sang to her softly at night—old lullabies, whispered secrets. He called her little light, and it stuck.

And sometimes, you’d find him standing by the crib in the dark, just watching her breathe.

“Can’t believe she’s real,” he’d whisper.

You’d smile, wrap your arms around his waist from behind, and whisper, “Me neither.”

But she was.

Your daughter.

Your family.

Years later, when the nights were quiet again and Eunwon had learned to sleep through them, Jungwon would lie beside you and hold your hand, and you’d talk about that day. The first kick. The soft sage nursery. Her first cry.

“I’ve never loved anything like I love her,” he once whispered.

You turned to him, eyes reflecting the moon's dim light outside your window.

“I have,” you said softly. “I loved you like that first.”

And he pulled you close, like he always did.

Where the light falls softest, where the silence feels like home, where life begins again and again—in his arms, in her eyes, in the quiet heartbeat of a family that started with a whisper.

And bloomed.

Forever.

To My Dearest Eunwon, my little light, my forever girl

You won’t remember the first time I held you.

But I will.

I will remember it until my very last breath.

You were pink and trembling and wrapped in something cottony and impossibly small. You fit against my chest like you had always belonged there. You didn’t cry long. You blinked at me like the world hadn’t just flipped upside down. Like you knew me already.

And in a way, you did.

We spent nine months together before anyone else met you. Nine months of growing, of dreaming, of you fluttering inside me like soft wind beneath the skin. I felt you long before I ever saw your face.

You were mine before the world called you by name.

Before you became Eunwon.

Your father cried when I told him you existed. I wish you could’ve seen his face—how awe cracked through him like sunlight through stained glass. He held me like I was holding the whole galaxy inside me. And in some ways, I was.

You.

I want you to know that you weren’t planned—not in the calendar-marked spreadsheet kind of way. But you were wanted. Oh, my love, you were so wanted before we knew your name, before we knew if we were ready, before we understood how big love could be.

You were the best surprise we ever received.

I want you to know that your dad painted your nursery by hand, that he read you stories before you were even born, and that sometimes, when I fell asleep on the couch, I’d wake up to find him singing to you softly through my belly, forehead pressed to where you slept under my skin.

He called you little light. That’s still what you are.

I want you to know that I was scared, that I cried a lot, and that my body didn’t always feel like home while it made room for you. But every stretch, sleepless night, and ache was filled with a quiet, holy purpose.

You made me new. You made me strong.

I lay in bed the night before you came and told your father I didn’t feel ready.

He said, “Then we’ll not be ready together.”

And that was enough.

You arrived into the world, how all the best things do—slow, chaotic, aching, and all at once. I remember the silence before your first cry like a breath held underwater. And then—suddenly—you were.

And I broke.

But not in a sad way. In the kind of way where love becomes too big for a single soul to carry. Where you cry because something is too beautiful to stay inside your chest.

You, my darling girl, are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

When they placed you on my chest, I whispered, “Welcome home.”

Because that’s what it felt like. Like I had finally met someone I had been missing all my life.

You’re older now. You have your dad’s eyes and my stubbornness. You ask questions like the world is your story to finish writing. Sometimes, you fall asleep in my lap, and I stare at you for so long it hurts.

I never knew love could stretch like this. I never knew I could carry something for so long, and then take it forever.

You changed us, baby girl.

You made me a mother. You made your father softer. You made our little apartment feel like a cathedral, like holy ground.

One day, when you’re older—maybe when you hold your child for the first time—you’ll understand what I mean.

Until then, know this:

You were our beginning. You were the breath before the song.

You were, and still are, the most beautiful light we’ve ever known.

I love you endlessly, in every way, in every life—

Mom.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @aeri-shi!! Thank you for all of your wonie requests especially 2 wittle hands, 1 heavy heart.

[devourrrmee]

proper name…place name….backstory stuff..

[rafeslittlepup]

sexist rafe having a piss kink, specifically pissing on reader as a way of ‘owning’ them

warnings: non-con, piss kink, humiliation kink, dddne

“come with me” he grabs your arm

“no- no, rafe,” you reply quickly, and you try to sound strong but all the drinks in your system make you slur

rafe doesn’t care, about your state of mind or your answer, he still grabs your arm in a harsh grip, ignoring your protests as he drags you

he had seen you “flirting” with another guy at the bar, even tho he was only asking something incredibly insignificant. so rafe comes up to you and drags you away, pushing his way through the people until you’re out, he drags you out of the bar and down the back alley until you’re between the corner of the brick and his body

“what are you doing, rafe?” you try to pull out of his hold but he doesn’t let you go. instead he grabs your other arm and holds you tight.

“what are you doing,” rafe grunts, holding your gaze with a fierceness in his eyes. “you’re always acting like a slut…”

 “a slut?”

“yeah, you heard me, you’re acting like a fucking whore out there, practically dry-humping every guy that gets close to you...” he places one hand on your neck, squeezing the sides as you whine a little

“you’re a whore for every guy that even looks at you, but not for me, huh?”

“rafe, stop…” you try to pull away

“i’m going to put you in your fucking place, gonna show you that you’re nothing more than a filthy whore” he says as he quickly shoves you to your knees.

he’s still gripping your wrists and holds eye contact while he unbuckles his pants and pulls down the zipper, he shoves his pants down as best he can, just enough to take his cock out.

“r-rafe, no, don’t!”

“don’t fucking cry, slut. i’m not gonna fuck you… just gonna treat you like the whore you are.”

rafe grabs his cock with his free hand and points it to your face. before you can even blink, he sighs and his piss sprays across your face. you try to face away but he lets go of his cock to grip your head and turn it so you face him again. he moves forward until he’s practically hovering over you, his cock dangling in front of your face as he continues to pee on you

you close your eyes and lips tight to prevent it from entering your mouth as it flows across your nose, cheeks, and forehead, even some of it getting in your hair.

“see, such filthy fucking whore…”

rafe tucks his cock and back into his boxers and pulling up his pants, zipping and buttoning them closed.

“now get yourself together, then go home”

[wendichester]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ strand by strand,

summary. this hunt drained you. it was a miracle that you managed to shower but now you have to deal with the aftermath: brushing your messy hair.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluffy sickingly fluff

wordcount. 502

notes / warnings. post-hunt exhaustion, hair brushing as an act of care, gentle physical touch, sleepy reader, dean being stupidly soft

You’re barely keeping your eyes open when Dean knocks on the bathroom door with two knuckles and a soft, “You good in there, sweetheart?”

Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could ache. You smell like cheap motel soap and shampoo and pure exhaustion. Your towel’s slipping off one shoulder, your hair wet and tangled and clinging to your back like ivy. You had every intention of brushing it out before collapsing—but somewhere between toweling off and blinking too long in the mirror, your limbs gave up on you.

“I’m fine,” you mumble. “Just… tired.”

Dean steps inside without another word, careful like always. He clocks your half-hearted attempt to sit on the edge of the sink, the way your shoulders slump under the weight of soaked strands.

And then, gently: “Sit on the bed. I’ll get the brush.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “What?”

“Go,” he says, nudging you out of the bathroom like a sleepy, dripping zombie. “I’m not lettin’ you fall asleep with your hair like that. You’ll wake up lookin’ like a damn tumbleweed.”

You laugh, barely, and shuffle to the bed with the grace of a limp cat. The towel’s loose but still secure enough to keep Dean from getting a full show—not that he hasn’t seen everything before. Still, he’s careful not to look anywhere but your face.

You sit cross-legged, spine curving forward on instinct. And then you feel the bed dip behind you.

Dean’s thigh brushes yours. His hands are warm.

The brush slides through the first layer with slow, deliberate strokes. You let out a little sigh. It feels so good. Comforting. Familiar. Like the rest of the world doesn’t exist right now.

“Tell me if it pulls,” he says, voice soft, breath brushing your ear.

“Mhm.”

He works through the tangles without yanking, section by section. You feel his fingers separate the strands like he’s done it a hundred times before. Like he likes doing it.

And god help you, you think he does.

Your eyes fall shut. You feel your shoulders drop, your entire body starting to melt with each stroke. His hand comes to rest lightly at your waist, keeping you grounded.

“Long day,” he murmurs.

You hum. “Mm. Sucked.”

He chuckles. “You kicked ass, though.”

“So did you.”

Dean’s quiet for a second. Then his fingers graze your scalp, massaging gently.

“I like this,” he says.

Your lips tilt into the faintest smile. “Brushing my rat’s nest?”

“No. Taking care of you.”

You go quiet.

A moment later, his lips press against the back of your shoulder. Just one kiss. Barely there.

“You always take care of everyone else,” he adds. “Let me do this for you.”

You lean into him. Soft, boneless, safe.

The brush keeps moving, slow and even, like a lullaby in motion.

You don’t even notice when your eyes close again.

He does. And he just keeps brushing.

Like he’s got all the time in the world. Like you’re something worth untangling.

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[goldroses123]

yall dont act like

[dollycloudsblogg]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗

⋆˙ ࣪ 𝒞𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓈 ♡