#this was my first time making my own pattern

[moondustbaby]

Made For This

Blue collar!Rafe x Wife!Reader Smut 18+ mdni

cw: smut, piv, breeding kink, rafe being unhinged about giving his wife a baby lmao. mdni!!

summary: It’s a late night and Rafe’s working you harder than usual — but this time, it’s not just about satisfying each other. Between his filthy words and possessive touch, he’s determined to fill you up in every way, and you’re more than ready to take it. And when it’s all said and done, Rafe’s already thinking about what comes next — because with him, it’s never just about the moment.

⸻

It always started the same way — late nights, tangled sheets, Rafe’s body heavy over yours, his voice rough and low against your ear.

“You’re gonna let me fill you up tonight, aren’t you, baby?” he rasped, dragging the words out, every syllable thick with hunger. His hands were already moving — calloused palms sliding under your thin sleep shirt, thumbs stroking up the sides of your ribcage like he couldn’t get enough of touching you.

You whimpered, hips shifting up into his instinctively. You didn’t even need to answer. You always let him.

“You think I don’t notice, huh?” Rafe’s mouth was everywhere — jaw, throat, the underside of your chin. “You think I don’t see the way you fucking melt when I talk about knocking you up?”

He rocked against you, grinding slow and rough, dragging a needy moan from your chest. His cock was already straining against his boxers, thick and hot against your bare thigh. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet and you were already so wet for him it was embarrassing.

“You’d look so fuckin’ pretty with my baby in you,” he groaned, sliding the thin material of your panties to the side and dragging his fingers through your slick folds, teasing but firm. “Belly all round and heavy… tits all swollen f’me.”

You gasped as two fingers sank inside, curling deep, pulling the most broken little sounds from you. He worked you open slow but deliberate, thumb circling your clit in dizzying patterns. He was talking you through it, every dirty thought spilling straight from his mouth, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetheart,” he muttered, curling his fingers just right. “Gonna fill this sweet little pussy until it takes. Til you’re mine in every way.”

Your thighs were shaking already, your walls fluttering around his fingers — and when he pulled them out to replace them with the thick, heavy weight of his cock, you whined at the loss. He didn’t make you wait long. Barely a second later, he was lining up, one hand gripping your thigh and shoving it higher so he could slide all the way in with one slow, brutal thrust.

“Goddamn,” he hissed, forehead dropping to yours. “Tight as fuck, baby. Gripping me so fuckin’ good. Like you were made for this.”

You clawed at his back, overwhelmed, filled to the brim and gasping for him. He fucked you slow at first, deep and punishing, like he was trying to carve himself into you. Every roll of his hips hit that spot inside you just right, sending sparks up your spine.

“Let me give it to you,” he grunted, pace picking up, every thrust harder now. “Let me fuck a baby into you, pretty girl.”

You whimpered something that was supposed to be yes, yes, please, Rafe but it barely came out coherent, all your words tangled in desperate little sobs. It didn’t matter. Rafe could feel it. He could feel the way your body was begging for him.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin’ drop,” he panted. “Gonna be dripping with me. Gonna have my baby growin’ in that perfect little body, just like you’re meant to.”

The way he was talking, the filthy, possessive words falling out of him — it was too much. You came with a cry, clenching so tightly around him that Rafe cursed low and savage against your mouth.

“That’s it,” he growled, slamming into you harder, chasing his own release. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

One more deep thrust and he was spilling inside you with a broken, desperate sound, hips jerking as he emptied himself into you, filling you just like he promised. He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, forehead still resting against yours like he couldn’t bear to pull away.

“You feel that, baby?” he murmured after a minute, voice rough and wrecked. His hand splayed wide over your lower belly, already so possessive, already so sure. “Already starting somethin’ real fuckin’ good in there.”

You were still shivering, legs trembling from how hard he worked you, but you nodded, completely blissed out under him.

Rafe kissed you then, slow and sweet, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth tenderly, a sharp contrast to the roughness he’d just given you.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I’m gonna love every fuckin’ second of making you mine like this.”

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: not to be dramatic but blue collar!rafe could literally look at me and i’d be pregnant. i had no choice but to write this. shoutout to my brain for cooking up something so unhinged at 2am. if you survive this one, you deserve a medal.

♥️ lani

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Masterlist

[vamptarotscam]

@vamptarot IS A SCAMMER.

You seriously thought you could get away with this a second time? Not a chance. SHE ALSO DELETED HER SCAMMY POST.

PART TWO: https://www.tumblr.com/vamptarotscam/782090594830991360/i-got-more-proof-that-vamptarot-is-scamming?source=share

I will provide PROOF AND SCREENSHOTS.

DO NOT DONATE TO THIS PERSON UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES.

Yes, this is the second time @vamptarot plays this game with her followers, instigating fake symptoms, lying and scamming. The first scam attempt is documented here: https://www.tumblr.com/vamptarot/771257380903288832/hello-i-am-sorry-for-the-mis-use-of-tags-i-will?source=share.

This is simply disgusting behaviour. Lying about injuries, illnesses, symptoms so that people could buy her readings or donate out of sympathy (and she KNOWS people on Tumblr are more susceptible to this, they will donate to the right cause). She always does this, she invents a fake sob story and then she says she's not asking for donations or that she's too ashamed to do so, yet asks people to help her without any proof whatsoever (because there is obviously no proof).

It’s funny how @vamptarot always claims she doesn't share links publicly because she "feels uncomfortable," yet the only thing that’s uncomfortable here is her blatant scam. If you don’t want to be caught scamming, then maybe don’t request money through DMs, where you can hide behind the anonymity of your naive followers' trust. And let’s not forget how she always magically “needs” large sums of money (1200 pounds last time) where healthcare is FREE. Especially emergency healthcare that she claims to be in need of. Do you really think people will buy the sob story about needing 1200 pounds for "treatment" that’s apparently so urgent it can’t wait for any sort of proof? If it was so dire, why are you pulling random numbers out of thin air to manipulate followers? It doesn’t add up. You know why? Because it’s all an act. You can see this from her blog's activity too, she comes back only when she needs money from her unfortunately very young and gullible followers. And she makes numbers only when she comes up with fake stories and illnesses, how interesting. Maybe it's because she's willingly manipulating young impressionable users to donate to a fake cause? Absolutely reprehensible. Proof:

These aren’t just "unfortunate circumstances", this is a pattern. It is a known scam tactic that's been around years and years before smarty pants could do it on Tumblr.

She's done this before, and she's trying to do it again. She knows that many people on Tumblr are empathetic, and she'll exploit that kindness for her own gain. Don’t fall for it. Trust your gut and stay far away from anyone who tries to manipulate you with extreme emotional circumstances like this.

ALSO, she deleted her latest scam post because she finally got exposed by my account but I will share screenshots that a very kind individual has sent me about their interaction with this disgusting scammer. The individual's name is censored as per their request. RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY.

In her latest post our beloved scammer @vamptarot tried to claim a mysterious illness with fainting symptoms that would make her "slip in and out of consciousness". Extremely vague, perfect for naive Tumblr users (who are mostly minors by the way, just mentioning that). She also claimed that she needed URGENTLY 3400 pounds in the next 10 hours (a very famous scam tactic) or that she might "die".

Then she suddenly claimed that she needed ONLY 450 pounds, 10 hours after she made that post. Interesting. I DO NOT have the original post's screenshot but we have @spiritstalking ask to rely upon:

Nice try sweetheart. Unfortunately some users fell for this. It is extremely depressing to see young kids fall for those scams, because they do not know better.

As you can see, she also claimed that she needed donations in less than ten hours or it might be "too late" for her. Poor soul. Again, emergency healthcare such as in this case (slipping in and out of consciousness🤣🤣🤣) is free. Yet another emotional manipulation tactic. As I said, it's disgusting.

Also, she claimed that she was on the verge of dying, being extremely ill but she also had time to think about PACS? AND INTERACT ON TUMBLR TOO? She tried to make it all seem so real that she even stayed online 24/7 to talk to the users she scammed.

And wow, now she’s acting all innocent, saying that people gossiping about her is "inhumane." Sweetie, we’re not gossiping, we’re exposing a scam you decided to do.

If you’re really that innocent, why do you keep changing the narrative? You’ve been caught making excuses and pulling out random sob stories for cash, guess that’s just the reality of running a fake blog.

HERE'S THE SCREENSHOTS PROOF:

It’s honestly wild how chronically online @vamptarot is while claiming to be slipping in and out of consciousness, barely able to function due to “illness.” I mean, a person who’s supposedly fighting for their life can barely send a message, let alone respond instantly on Tumblr??????? But guess what? She’s ALWAYS there to reply to her donors within minutes. truly the epitome of someone “dying” from their condition. 🧐

Oh, and then the classic scam move: telling the user to send money to her “friend’s” PayPal... except her “friend” has the exact same name as her. What a coincidence! 🥴 That’s not even a red flag, it’s a burning tower. For real, how dumb does she think people are? A friend’s PayPal? More like her PayPal, dressed up in a bad disguise.

Let’s not forget the emotional manipulation here. She messed up, said it was her PayPal, and when caught, instantly tried to backpedal with the excuse of having “brain fog” because of anxiety and pain. But apparently, that anxiety and pain don’t stop her from begging for donations? Come on. If you’re so “stricken” with these issues, how are you managing to twist your words so perfectly to squeeze money out of people? INTERESTING.

And then, to top it off, offering to give out her friends' bank details for even more donations? Classic scam. Get as many ways as possible to extract money from people’s wallets. But here's the kicker: she can’t even access the money the user sent for the next three days? THIS IS A HUGE ORGANIZED SCAM.

This whole situation is a mess, and honestly, it’s getting tiresome. Be careful who you trust, because this is as shady as it gets.

Also, @vamptarot tell everyone how you were planning to delete your disgusting scamming post from the start because you didn't want to "STAIN" your account. You knew what you were doing from the start. You knew you were scamming people and that somebody would eventually catch on.

You are a reprehensible human being and I strongly suggest you to refund the money you stole from users. Can we just talk about how conveniently her post was deleted once people started catching on? A classic move when you know you've been called out for your scam. If everything was so “legit,” why is the post suddenly gone? Again you knew what you were doing and you know you're wrong as hell for this.

PLEASE REBLOG TO SPREAD AWARENESS AND TO KEEP SCAMMERS OUT OF THE TAROT COMMUNITY. THIS IS VILE STUFF.

Once again, shame on you @vamptarot. Do better.

It's honestly disgusting to see someone manipulate and extort vulnerable users into donating for a fake illness. Preying on people’s empathy for personal gain is nothing short of reprehensible. Don’t let yourself be fooled.

PLEASE HELP US SPREAD AWARENESS. PLEASE DO NOT DONATE TO THIS USER. DO NOT GET SCAMMED.

[hollyoongs]

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 𝗝𝗔𝗬's 𝗩𝗘𝗥 !

prólogo Patience. A virtue that Jay knew very well, used a lot when treating members or as when he expected an online purchase, he had it very controlled. Although you knew exactly how to make that virtue go to zero. [MASTERLIST]

elenco park jongseong x f!reader

género smut with plot

antes de leer brat!reader, brat tammer!jay, mean dom!jay, edging, use of sexual toy (vibrator), bondage (jay ties reader wrists), alcohol consumption, alcohol play (briefly by Jay), unprotected sex (are we surprised atp), orgasm denial, edging, rough sex, breeding, pet names (slut, brat, baby), degradation, let me know if i missed anything.

# palabras + 4k

You have lost count of how many warning looks Jay has given you in the last five minutes.

After finishing their last Coachella performance, all the members felt light knowing how they gave their all, no remorse, and checked that stage off their bucket lists. Being backstage with his dad beside you was a whole new experience, even more so when you two found yourselves tearing up, not being able to contain the pride.

You stayed for a while, congratulating the members left and right, and he didn't make you leave his side, nor your lips, not caring at all about the teasing comments made by his members—you could only laugh between kisses, your cheeks burning with happiness rather than embarrassment. The members started doing their own thing.

"Are you going to stay to see the rest of the shows?" You said, kissing the tip of his nose, an action that made him scrunch it.

"No, I’m actually going to the hotel room. They want me to make a Weverse live for my birthday." After he said that, you smiled. "Why?"

“Because I’m also leaving for the hotel. Your dad insists on taking me to the hotel safely.” He rolled his eyes before looking at his dad, who was more occupied taking pictures of the achievements of his son.

“Good thing we are staying in the same hotel.” You smiled at his words before giving him a peck.

“See you later, baby. Bye, guys!” The last part you screamed at, catching their attention as you waved dramatically with both hands, prompted a chorus of cheers and a few exaggerated whistles from the members.

You walked away backwards, still smiling, still waving, and caught one last look at him: tired but glowing, shoulders relaxed after all the performance.

The ride to the hotel was quiet and calm; it was a comfortable silence. His dad made some light conversation, but you could tell he was just as emotionally spent. When you got to the lobby, he handed you your room key, gave you a sincere pat on the back, and gave you a knowing smile.

Back in your room, the first thing you did was to open your bag. The first thing that catches your eye is exactly what you were looking for, a black plastic bag that contained your very first lingerie, something that you bought a few weeks ago for this day. You neatly put the pieces on top of your bed, and your eyes widen a little bit when you see the lack of coverage. Sure, lingerie was supposed to do that.

The pieces themselves were beautiful; the black color with delicate lace was eye-catching, but it was bold itself—and definitely bolder than anything you’d ever worn before. You ran your fingers over the soft fabric, the intricate patterns of the lace. The bra had thin straps and a dainty bow in the center, while the bottoms were barely there, cut high and trimmed with the same lace. Your heart pounded just a little harder now.

You entered the shower, this time, your routine even more elaborate than usual. Shampoo, conditioner, hair gloss, bar soap, body scrub—you used everything because tonight felt like it deserved more. The steam wrapped around you like a gentle hug, and you took your time, the intention clear as the day, to feel like your best self for him and you. The fact that you were doing this out of love and confidence, not obligation, crashed you, bringing a smile to your face.

By the time you stepped out, the mirror was completely fogged. You wiped a small circle and caught your reflection—flushed and glistening. You wrapped yourself in a towel and padded back into the bedroom, where the lingerie still waited patiently on the bed.

Getting dressed felt like stepping into another version of yourself—one that was still you, just sexier. Hair and makeup were done many songs later, you stood again to go to the bathroom to grab the body lotion, unconsciously checking yourself out.

“Fuck, I look hot,” you admit to your reflection, and even though it made you giggle, the words felt good—true. You noticed the way the lace hugged your curves, the bold contrast against your skin, and, of course, the minimal changes to your makeup that made the look complete.

You dabbed on your favorite perfume—ears, thighs, every key point of your body that you knew he loved to kiss. The scent mingled with the soft air of the hotel room, mixing with the scent of the apple cinnamon candles you lit up. Walking back to your back, you took out the outfit of the night, the same outfit as your first date: a black leather mini skirt with your loose white cropped button-up, his oversized leather jacket of the same color that you stole, and your boots.

You dressed up easily, satisfied with the overall result after not seeing the lingerie peeking. The gloss you accidentally brought to the bathroom was now useful as you gave your lips another coat of it. You speed up, blowing off all the candles to pick up your phone. Jay has been live for almost fifteen minutes, even sending you a message that he would be alone doing that live way before he started it. Oh, you truly took your sweet time.

With the room key card in hand, you rushed to the elevator. The elevator dinged softly as you reached Jay’s floor, stepping out quietly while keeping your head low. The hallway was empty, and you padded toward his door with the same knock you used every time you visited him under the radar.

“Oh, wait. It’s probably a staff member.” You could hear the chair being moved, and soon the door opened. He looked at you completely wide-eyed, mouth agape, as his eyes scanned you. “Wow… you look, wow.”

“Came a little early, hope you don’t mind.” You said low enough so only he can be the only one hearing, and his hand travels to yours to make you do a small turn on the same spot, seeing a smile on his face.

“Is this the outfit that I think it is?” You smiled in affirmation, and he happily nodded. “Wait for me for five minutes; I’m still answering questions right now.” You softly pecked his lips before moving away, easily making your way to the sofa in his room thanks to the wide distance that helped you pass without touching the camera.

The space where he was streaming was decorated with a shiny blue metallic tinsel curtain, silver ‘Happy Birthday’ balloons with other ones, and on top of the table a cake shaped like a guitar. “Sorry, the staff came to check on everything.”

He went back to answer questions in both English and Korean; his voice for you was magnetic. How he always found the words so easily and expressed himself with such grace was the first thing that attracted you to him. He looked so relaxed, phone in his hand as he comfortably manspread on the chair.

You sat quietly on the couch, legs crossed, hands neatly intertwined over your skirt to behave as patiently as possible. Five minutes turned into fifteen, and you found yourself growing a little desperate; the idea that was creating in your head was risky, way too risky. You took your jacket off and later your shoes. After neatly folding the jacket, you stood up, walking right behind the camera so that Jay could have a look at you.

His eyes went directly to yours for a quick moment before looking at the camera again, your fingers going directly to the buttons of your shirt to reveal the top part of the lingerie. Jay's eyes went back to you in an instant; his face was using every muscle of it to not make a face, but his eyes couldn't leave alone your nipples that were visible on that lingerie and the way the lace curved perfectly over your chest.

You watched him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, his hand subtly tightening around the phone as he answered another comment, his voice wavering while responding with something generic about his favorite birthday memory. He couldn’t fool you; his eyes focused on the lens, but they kept darting back to you. He was being too patient.

You could tell you were playing with his patience as you kept going, fingers now working slowly on the zipper of your skirt and carefully taking it off your body, bare legs revealed, and so your thong. The entire image of you made his ears turn pink. He shifted in his seat before sighing.

“Hold on, let me take this cake off. I promise I will eat this later." He took the cake and quickly moved to you, leaving the cake on another table in the hotel room. “Can you please behave?”

“No, and you know how excited I get when I give you a present.” You covered your index finger with a little of the whipped cream from the cake, licking it as you locked eyes with him; his jaw got tense, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I will finish in a couple of minutes. Cut it,” he said, before leaving you to go back to sit and focus on the last few minutes of the stream. You smiled innocently, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. He sat back down, and before you did on the couch, you went to grab the wine bottle. You felt his gaze on your ass as you carefully poured the liquid into a glass. When you sat on the couch, you purposely let your legs fall open just enough to let him see the string that barely covered your entrance.

The moment you decided to look back at him, your free hand had a mind of its own, slowly making its way to your entrance. The route that your fingers were taking, so did Jay’s eyes, after going back to the phone.

You tapped a little before concentrating your index and middle fingers on your clit, causing a delicious friction that caused you to softly bite your lower lip, covering the whimper that was threatening to escape from your mouth. Jay didn’t look at you again after that. Not even once. He kept his gaze firmly on his phone, answering the last few comments, bowing politely, and thanking fans for their birthday wishes in that gentle tone of his.

You kept your movements slow through the lace, head falling back against your couch with your eyes fluttering, but you made sure he got the full view of just how much you were enjoying yourself, preparing for him.

“I’ll see you in our next album… Uh, what was it?” Jay’s voice stumbled slightly when he was finally saying his last words, the smallest stumble in his normally flawless tone—and it made you feel like you won.

You pressed a little harder, hips subtly lifting from the couch, the friction driving you mad as much as you knew it was driving him mad. His eyes were moving quickly as he was trying to remember and not to look at you. “Desire: Unleash. I’ll see you there. Thank you.”

You didn’t even hear how he stood up to end the stream, only hearing how rushed it was, footsteps loud enough to make you know he was coming. You barely had time to breathe before Jay was standing over you, grabbing the wine glass from your hand and setting it down with a sharp clink on the side table. His hand wrapped firmly around your wrist, pulling it away from your core, your wetness glistening on your fingertips.

"Such a fucking brat," he muttered under his breath.

You smirked up at him, truly enjoying the moment. "You were taking too long. I had to entertain myself. I even prepared myself, see?"

You took his hand as you guided him inside the throng, letting him feel just how soaked you were. His fingers slipped easily against your folds, the lace doing little to hide the heat of your skin. Jay's breath stopped for a second—just for a second—before he yanked his hand back with a low growl.

There was no humor in the way he dragged you up from the couch and into his chest, holding your wrists behind your back with one hand. You gasped at the sudden loss of freedom, knowing how you fucked it up, but it will be worth it.

"You think you can touch what's mine without permission?" He said lowly against your ear, his lips brushing your skin and making you shiver. "You think you can act like a little slut in front of me and not expect consequences?"

Your knees nearly buckled at his words, but he suddenly threw you to the bed. There were a few presents in the room, and he undid the bow of one gift, coming back to you to tie it around your wrist to the headboard of the bed. “Since you can’t behave, you don’t get to touch anything unless I say so.”

Your head got tilted up by him, his eyes showing dominance as he scanned the lingerie, your legs closed. “What are you wearing?”

“Your birthday present, wanted to try something new,” you said in a sweet tone, even batting your lashes —causing Jay to smirk. His fingertips traced the bow at your wrists with an almost featherlight touch.

“You always think you can get away with anything just because you look cute.” You tried shifting your legs, but he caught the movement instantly, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart so you could be completely exposed to him. “And this is supposed to be my birthday present?”

He stood up to grab the glass of wine you left forgotten and soon came back. He drank a little himself, and you could see his Adam's apple going up and down, savoring the alcohol.

“You were touching yourself without my permission.” He looked at the amount he left on the glass, bringing it closer to your chest and pouring a little on top of your breasts, his tongue touching your skin as it went up to your neck. You moaned at the feeling, unconsciously turning your head to the opposite side he was going for.

His lips grazed your ear, biting it lightly. “You think that’s allowed, baby?”

You shook your head, more focused on trying not to think about the fire between your thighs that was turning unbearable. “No… but it felt so good,” you whined, tugging the restraint instinctively, the need to touch him increasing.

“And you are still being a brat.” With his free hand, he tore the thong down your legs, the fabric snapping against your skin before it hit the floor; the sudden roughness made your eyes wide. The glass was forgotten once again on the table next to his bed, soon positioning himself between your trembling thighs.

“You want to be good for me now, baby?” He asked, kissing on top of your knee, slowly working his way up your thigh.

“Y-yes,”

“Too late,” Jay smirked, his hands now on your hip to hold you down. “Brats get punished.” Before you could beg, his mouth was on you — everywhere but where you needed him the most. From his thighs to even the curve of your belly, he delivered kisses and even little nips. You whimpered, tugging uselessly at the ribbon.

“Jay, please…” you moaned as he sucked a spot on the back of your ear. His hand grabbed your face, and his lips were on yours. You were surprised by how he sucked your tongue, the new sensation stimulating enough to make you moan into his mouth; your head was already fuzzy.

His touch left your body again to look for his bag, moving around until he found something; your mouth opened a little when you focused your whole attention on it. “I bought this to use after Coachella since I remembered how badly you wanted one.”

He left the small vibrator on the table to take off all his clothes, right in front of you, chuckling a little as you got yourself loose in his body, “But I will ask you, can I use it on you?”

“Yes, love. Y-you can; you earned it.” A satisfied smile appeared on his face; he grabbed his phone to connect it and then placed it right on top of your aching clit. The chair that he used to sit in minutes before was dragged to be in front of the bed, right where you were. He sat there, his right hand grabbing his cock while the left one was holding his phone.

Jay leaned back lazily, stroking himself at a very slow pace at the view of you. The sudden movement of the vibrator made your whole body jolt, making you gasp as your hips bucked against the buzz. The noises you made were music to Jay’s ears.

“You’re such a view, baby. All tied up, dripping just from a little toy, and my cock in your line of sight.” Your body heated even more, bothered by the fact of how good he was making you feel even without doing anything. “Not so cocky now, baby?”

You licked your lips when you saw how his thumb was running over the head of his cock, spreading the precum that was already leaking there; your answer was a broken moan, tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Jay tilted his head at you, and you wanted to assume it was almost sympathetic. "You’re close already, aren't you?" he said, smirking when he saw the way your body shivered in a desperate attempt to hold yourself back. "Poor thing. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You nodded frantically; your body was screaming for him. He leaned forward slightly, teasing himself with long, quite lazy strokes while his thumb on his phone hovered over the intensity levels of the vibrator.

"Here’s the deal, baby," he murmured. "You're not allowed to cum until I say so. You even think about cumming without permission, and I'll leave you tied up and begging all night. Understood?"

"Y-yes,"

"Good girl." The praise nearly shattered you, but not as much as the vibrator that turned up a notch.

“Fuck, Jay!” You sobbed his name, feeling your body jerk with the sudden spike in pleasure. He watched you like it was the best show he’d ever seen; his hand also sped up into stroking his cock.

"You look so fucking pretty when you're desperate," Jay growled. "Bet your pussy's clenching around nothing, huh? So empty, so needy for me…"

“Yes, baby.” You whimpered, rolling your hips in tiny circles against the vibrator without thinking, chasing the high that was building far too fast.

Jay caught that instantly. "Ah, ah," he said sharply, turning the toy off completely.

You cried out in frustration, shaking your head. "No, no, please, Jay, please—"

"You're not listening," he tsked, standing up from the chair and towering over you. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, so close, yet so out of reach. "Bad girls don't get to cum."

The tears that welled up in your eyes were actually threatening to fall from how devastatingly good he made you feel even when he was denying you everything. He knelt on the bed, one hand gripping your chin roughly to make you look him dead in the eyes.

"You’re going to learn," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours for a second, "that your pussy belongs to me and my cock is yours, baby."

His lips went to yours again, a sharp slap on your pussy that caused you to let out a gasp against his lips. "And you’ll cum when I tell you to," he said, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan before pulling back.

Without another word, he turned the vibrator back on, pressing it harder against your swollen, throbbing clit, immediately throwing you back into a writhing mess. He teased you completely — turning it up, then down, removing it altogether just when you felt yourself start to tip over the edge, smirking every time you sobbed in frustration, your consistent hip movements making the bed move.

"I could do this all night," he said, dragging the vibrator slowly up and down your folds, teasing your entrance before bringing it back to your clit. "Until you're crying and begging properly."

"Please," you gasped out, voice shaking, tears finally slipping down your temples. "I'll be good, Jay, I swear, just—"

"That's it," he said, finally satisfied. "That's the voice I wanted." Jay climbed fully onto the bed now, lining himself up between your trembling thighs. He turned off the vibrator, tossing it aside, and you cried out again at the loss, only for him to grip the base of his cock and rub the head along your dripping entrance, a relieved gasp leaving your mouth.

"You want this?" he asked, his voice wrecked with restraint.

"Yes," you sobbed. "God, yes, Jay. I need you so bad." Without warning, he slammed into you in one hard, perfect thrust. Your scream echoed off the walls, and you were sorry for the member next door. He didn’t give you time to adjust, starting to pound into you mercilessly, hands gripping your legs to be up so tight you knew there would be bruises later. His cock stretched you perfectly, every thrust hitting so deep you saw stars behind your eyes.

"You're mine," he growled into your ear. "Say it."

"Yours, yours, only yours," you babbled, delirious with pleasure, mindless under the feeling of him finally fucking you the way you needed. His right hand went to the ribbon, untying it fast just to have you grab your own legs, his hands now on the headboard as he increased his speed. “I love you, Jay.”

“I love you more, baby. Fuck, this pussy feels like heaven.” You two were a vocal mess, so consumed by the pleasure that you were not caring about anything. “Wrap your legs around me.”

You did as he said; he pushed you up a little so you two were face-to-face, his pace never slowed down, and despite you trying to actually look at his eyes, the orgasm you had to hold was ready to snap.

“Shit, Jay, let me cum, please.” Your walls were squeezing him, his cock twitching inside you as he tried so hard to hold himself back just a little longer, but you felt so good he would do it at the same time as you.

"Cum for me," he finally ordered with his forehead pressed to yours, the same desperation you had plastered on his tone. “Let go, baby. Give it to me.”

You came so hard it was blinding, your body locking up, squeezing his cock so tightly he cursed loudly, fucking you through it, not slowing down for a second. A few messy and frantic strokes were enough to bury himself deep as his hot and overwhelming release stayed inside you.

Jay kissed you as you broke apart underneath him, his hands everywhere soothing you. “You did so good for me.” Soft kisses were now delivered over your jaw and cheeks. “So fucking perfect for me.”

He pulled out as carefully as he could, laying you back down, and he did the same right next to you, pulling you into his chest immediately, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You nuzzled into him; your body was completely spent, and your heart was pounding against your ribs.

You tilted your chin up, gazing up to meet his eyes, the same eyes he always puts on when he sees you, or how he likes to say, ‘the look of love.’

“Happy birthday and wrap of Coachella,” you said against his lips. Your throat was hurting, although that was not your concern at the moment. He laughed a little at the sudden sentence.

“Best birthday ever… Sorry if I was too rough, baby.”

“I loved it; I would do that again.”

TAGLIST (OPEN): @heesexual74 @vixialuvs @riqomi @beomgyus11 @starry-eyed-bimbo @rawrrxan @veilstqr @k1ttyjwon @fancypeacepersona @kittympirty (COMMENT TO BE ADDED)

─── JAYCHELLA! posted right on time (11: 15) i think this one is the longest of all this serie, i decided to not only do jaychella but also join his birthday with it, two in one you can say. see you tomorrow with jake's!

[parasolladyansy]

Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful day/afternoon/night! I love your art style. It’s so cute >w<

Could you give any tips for beginner artists both in drawing for characters and Pokemon?

Hi-ho! I can try ouo;

⬆️ Made in 2010 - the oldest Pokémon drawing I have on file (though I have much older ones on paper!)

First tip I’d say is to practice! ✍🏻

I’ve been drawing since I was very little, & that included Pokémon fanart. There was a point where I was drawing every single day for years - I have all these journals where instead of writing through my thoughts & feelings, I just filled it to the brim with drawings & even little comics!

They don’t need to be perfect, or better than anyone’s - they just have to be yours. 🩵

⬆️ Made in 2016 - I started trying for a softer look with a lighter, blue line-art instead of the thick black one.

Getting into the more technical art stuff I learned in college, drawing just about anything becomes easier when we break them down into shapes.

Humans, Pokémon, or even shadows, ripples, & water patterns can be broken down into basic shapes that you build up with added details. Like here: we can see circles, ovals, semi-circles, & all kinds of angular shapes.

Take a look at the Pokédex, & try seeing the different shapes that make up each Pokémon. Even the most complex Pokémon in the ‘dex becomes less daunting when we break them down into manageable shapes. Same for human characters.

⬆️ Made in 2023 - from Sword x Shield

Another (less technical) tip I have is study other artists you like to help you find your style!

When I made the step to go line-less, I took a lot from my love for Impressionism (eg. Monet), & was also very much inspired by K. O’Neil’s Tea Dragon books, especially in Sword x Shield.

I think it’s safe to say just about every single artist to pick up a pencil was influenced by someone. The “father of manga” himself, Osamu Tezuka, was inspired by early Disney animations - if you look closely, you can see it in his earlier work. It goes both ways, as we see Disney emulate Tezuka (to the point of plagiarism >_> Lion King)

On that note, try not to feel bad if your style starts off looking too much like the original artist’s - I think that’s natural. After all, we artists emulate what we see, what we like, & how we see those things.

What matters is building on it, finding those personal touches to make it yours. ^_^ Like with Pokémon, you can go by the original art Ken Sugimori & the other official artists, or take your own spin on it (exaggerate features, play with color, etc).

⬆️ Made in 2024 - a little less than a year ago & I already draw Sora a little differently!

I think art is a journey, & you can only stand to improve over time & practice. I’m still refining my work, & sometimes that means crumpling it up & starting again.

Maybe the most important tip I have is: don’t give up.

There were a lot of people who wanted me to quit drawing. I’ve had my doodle ripped up by a teacher, told I wouldn’t amount to anything, told that no matter what I did someone will always be better than me.

Even through all that, I never gave it up, because it’s something I love. I could happily draw all day (though sometimes I have slow periods, like where I’m at right now), & drawing helped me get through the darkest times as well as celebrate when things were good. ^_^

So don’t give up. Take breaks if you need it, but don’t give up if it’s something you love & gives you life. 🩵

—

Ha…I realize that’s probably a lot deeper than what you meant to ask. I said I’d “try” lol 😂 I hope this helps you all the same 😅

[after-witch]

Plucked at Midwinter [Yandere Winter Spirit x Reader]

Title: Plucked at Midwinter [Yandere Winter Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: What's in a name, anyway? The winter spirit reveals a name to his sweet, his darling, his dear.

Word count: 700ish

notes: yandere, nothing else really

“What’s your name?”

He hums, first. His hum is low as frost and the laughter that bursts forth is tossed into the wind, drifting. 

“A name, my sweet?” His breath puffs, as yours does, but sometimes you think it’s only for sure. “I’ve been called many things by many people–and many not-so-people” 

You ought to take his answer for what it is. A sidestep, a riddle to settle into your stomach. But instead you draw your furs in closer, and press on.

“What names?”

He laughed, before, but now his smile takes on a twitch.

“My lovely, my dear… what names would you like to call me?” He claps, then, surely planning a game that would keep you occupied for hours. 

It’s best to think carefully when he does this–and so you do. You draw those beautiful furs, dead and yet warm, in closer and set your face as passive as you can.

“What names?”

He might have been mad. He might have huffed and said you’re spoiling the fun, being too nosy. He didn’t–he doesn’t.

Instead–

He coos at you. 

And oh, if his hum is frost, then his coo is the sound of crunching snow. Pleasant and crisp and breaking the silence of the forest. Yet underneath the sound of your own footsteps, behind the trees, is another set that you never see.

Then–he lists the names. Names that mean oh-so-many things. Names that mean frozen and death and hunger; names that make you think of the wailing of parents, the bleating of dying cows in the field.

Despite the fur, you shiver, and he blinks at you. What ice might be in his eyes crackles deeper blue and recedes, for a moment.

“Ah, but sweetling, I frighten you with these. I have some that are nicer, if you please…” And he continues, lighter, leaning back on the snow bank and digging his hands into the fresh white cold. 

Now, he tells you names that don’t make you shudder. Names that mean the first fallen snow of the winter, the unique pattern of a snowflake, and a name you’re certain describes the way snow sparkles in the morning. 

Names, names, so many names. He rattles them off so easily. But which one is truly his, which one is right? Perhaps you have it all wrong, perhaps he has no one name, but the one for a moment. 

“Today,” you insist. “Today… now… for me, what is your name? 

At this, then, he finally looks at you with something in his face that reminds you of how old he is–that he is not a human being, and never was, and never will be. 

“For you…” He tips his head back, snowflakes from a hundred winters ago frozen on the lashes, and stares up at the snow-coated branches above.

“Eirlys,” he says, perhaps–are you imagining it?--with hesitation. Then again, firmer. “Yes. That one is pleasant. Though it was last given ages ago.”

Eirlys–a snowdrop, then.

You let your furs sag, cold seeping around the edges, and he snorts out a smile at your vague gesture of supplication.

“Who gave you that name?” You ask, and this time, it’s all right if he decides to change the subject. 

He doesn’t. Instead, he digs into the snow, disturbing the glistening white until he’s at the dull mounds of brown earth. Rooting around for something that you don’t see. 

“A sweet thing,” he says, mildly. “A sweet thing who picked flowers at my doorstep–always late, I think, when I was perhaps ready to leave–and left me gifts in return.” He closes his eyes, remembering, then nods. “Trinkets, always. Silly things from a silly thing. But they were kindly meant.”

He does not say–the name was, too–but you hear it anyway and tuck it into your memory. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, when there is nothing left to ask. “I… wanted to know more about you, I suppose.”

He opens his eyes and suddenly taps your reddening nose; the dirt from underneath his fingernails offering a glimpse of the fresh pungence of spring to come. Though it won’t come for you. 

“Oh, dearest–oh sweetest.” His cold fingers tuck hair–and something else–behind your ear before he rises, brushing snow off his clothing. “Shall we move on?” He offers his hand as he has so many times before, and as so many times before, you take it. 

It’s only when you begin to walk, warm clothing brushing aside the winter chills that come with the breeze, that you feel behind your ear; to see what he left there, a gift, with the dirt and snow on his nails.

Of course–

A snowflower bud, white and pretty; unbloomed, kept hidden underneath the snow.

[salemrph]

"Quiet Bloom"

Sylus x MC/You | Based only on the BGM |

You walk beside him in silence, your hand entwined with his. The late afternoon sun spills through the trees, painting soft patterns of light and shadow across the path, and every step feels impossibly precious. The wind swings fresh petals from the trees. The warmth on your skin makes this moment feel incredibly good.

Sylus, I never thought I would fall in love with you.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, your heart swelling with it.

For the first time, my chest blooms with this beautiful, overwhelming feeling.

You swallowed, the emotion sitting heavy and sweet in your throat.

Feeling your hand intertwined with mine, seeing how your eyes and expression have softened over time... I just hope it's because of me. I hope I've touched your heart. And I hope I can keep bringing blessings into your life.

Sylus glances at you, one brow lifting slightly. “Something on your mind, kitten?”

You smile, small and secret, and shake your head.

"Nothing important," you lie.

Because this feeling is blooming in your chest, you will keep it closer to you.

Sylus kept his eyes forward, but he wasn’t paying attention to the path. The soft sway of your steps. The way your hair caught the fading light. The easy, quiet way you smiled when you thought no one was looking. His focus was on you, always had been.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done to me, kitten.

Once upon a time, he hadn’t believed he deserved anything close to this. You were calling for me, he thought, heart thudding slow and heavy in his chest. Even then. Even when I didn’t know how to answer, how to love you.

Your arms around him when he had nothing left. Your voice cutting through the chaos when he didn’t even know my own name. Your soul reaching out for his, even when he couldn't lift his hand to meet yours.

He looked at you now, walking next to him, your face glowing with the last light of the day. And he felt it again that pull. That need to stay close, to keep his hand laced with yours, to never lose the warmth you brought to the cold places inside him.

He loves you.

Wherever you are... that's where I’m staying. Wherever your soul calls for me... I'll find my way back. Always.

He slowed his steps, tugging you gently to a stop. You turned to him, curious, your brows lifting in silent question. Sylus leans in and his hand slid up, cupping the side of your face with a gentleness that left you breathless.

Truly whoever created her... Thank you.

And when he kissed you, you melted into him without hesitation. A kiss that promised he wasn't going anywhere.

You were his. And he was yours.

[lilangeldeath]

Manifestation tip #1

"if I can pause you, I can turn you off" - using your commanding power to harness your anger/frustration and start kicking Wavering in the face until it runs away crying

A little storytime. Once I was in the middle of a task i needed to finish before bed, and was trying to hurry it along because I was tired. I began having deep wavering feelings and felt like my entire manifestation was falling off the rails even though the entire day i had been experiencing lots of movement. I, with my inner voice, got frustrated and for some reason the first thing that popped up in my head was imagining the Wavering as it's own character, i'm sure you can tell what that sounds like. it's all very interesting to me, the links between so many religions, always has been.

Anyhow, if it's helpful, give your wavering a name or a "character"/persona, hopefully one you're not fond of. or if that's too extra for you, just try imagining those thoughts in the voice of someone you think is a giant, annoying asshole. it immediately makes you go "wait a damn minute, shut the fuck up!!"

the other thing that popped up in my head when i imagined the Wavering as a sort of asshole character was saying "wait! hold on! let me finish this first. pause. time out. if you're gonna test me, at least test me on a level playing field when i'm not in the middle of something." yes, i am an extreme yapper, even in my own thoughts lmao. and then right after that thought was over, i realized how silly it was.

i said inwardly "if i can pause you, i can turn you off. i can get rid of you." and called my power back to myself. it feels good to laugh at yourself now and then and i think that's really important during all of this. yes, you should want to take your creations seriously and not be lazy and expect good results, but taking them seriously in my opinion also has to have its silly moments. it's just the way life is, really. forrest gump, box of chocolates, you know the deal. sometimes even when you're manifesting really serious stuff, you have to be able to laugh at yourself.

you really can turn the wavering off whenever you feel like it, if you allow yourself to feel the strength and the power of commanding. don't be afraid to command the universe, your subconscious, whatever you want to think it comes from. not in an evil way like "oh i get to control everybody" but in a way that you refuse to let anyone, or anything, including your own ingrained negative beliefs, take your power away from you, the real you, the 4D you/soul

our bodies are just mech suits we use as the creator observing and experiencing itself, experiencing a new method of creation. if you feel drawn to do it, take your wavering by the horns and tell it to shut the fuck up. if it helps, beat the shit out of it mentally. not beating yourself up, that just compounds it. not like "oh i had a negative thought, i'm so bad at this". like "i command all negative thought patterns to leave my subconscious forever. i am a creator/manifester and i am so grateful to wield such power." things like that.

if you work on your self concept (in whatever way that feels best to you) enough that you really feel that power, that fire inside, you will really start locking in. you have to ASSUME the ROLE of being in charge around here (your reality). i'm the type of person that my anger management issues in the past used to make me isolate and be bitter towards others or lash out at them to push them away. now i funnel my anger into a sword that i use to cut off quantum timelines i do not wish to experience. that's how i personally see it.

[scarycatipillar]

my favourite part of red valley is the reoccurring theme of “once you make it here you never leave for good”

the infamous examples are aubrey, warren and gordon. aubrey was the first scientist to enter the valley after the new development team was chosen, she was the one who stuck it out the longest, she stayed when ben and bryony left her with the final Teddy Bear, she escaped from the people trying to take her away from the valley and ran straight back, she led a terrorist militia to take down the tech they created in that valley and then spent years re-vamping the station to make it a welcoming community for all who want saftey. she stayed

warren and gordon entered together. gordon didnt want to go in at all, he wanted to get into his car and drive the other direction, but instead he followed warren. and then he waited for warren. and then he was stuck there with warren for 44 years. they stayed

people don’t tend to talk about the other examples tho, like the original scientists. the original scientists that worked on cryotech would re-use their own staff as test subjects, they never left because they didn’t get the chance.

but we also have our current timeline, a world of uncertainty on wether our protagonists are gonna be able to leave, which is a subject which has been much alluded to but let’s also think of all those who Completed, they were used to ‘grit the path’, they stayed

bryony has already been shipped back and i think it’s fate that clive and pam end up there too.

this pattern is either kworrying or optimistic, what if this chain is broken and for the first time in the history of the valley people finally leave for good

what if the pattern is a vicious cycle and no-one who ever stepped foot into red valley gets to leave without dying under the shadow of beinbagg

[myceliumsunshine]

heyy can you write something fluffy/crack for castiel?? your writing is so funny i have to ask

Love is an Open Door - Castiel Novak

A/N - hope this is fluffy/crack-y enough for you anon! it's more fluff than crack, and i actually haven't gotten up to the part where cas is human so excuse me if i got it wrong (also it's my first cas fic as well so...) Word Count - 1291

The first time you meet Cas, you slam the door in his face.

“Sam! Dean! There’s a weird man in our bathroom!” You practically shout, scrambling back from the door towards your older half-brothers. They’re both up in a second, the door open wide and guns pointing in the angel’s face. They let out a collective sigh, lowering their weapons in sync (you love it when they do it, you always mentally giggle despite the situation).

“This is Cas.” Dean says gruffly. You stare past him at the man.

“Angel Cas?”

“The same one.”

“Oh.” You glance him up and down. “I thought he would be…”

You trail off, not quite sure what you thought would be different about him. All you know is he’s weird, and that he was in your bathroom, and that he hasn’t actually said anything yet. You offer him your name.

“I know.” You blink at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, but then he’s pushing past you, his attention focused on Dean.

The next time you meet him, you slam the door in his face again.

“I’m supposed to stay away from you!” You shout through the door. “Get lost!”

Sam and Dean aren’t in the crappy motel, out investigating whatever case they’d forced you to stay behind and research. They’d told you all about the angel that they’d kept away from you. You didn’t really know what he’d done, only that he wasn’t to be trusted.

The flutter of wings behind you has you turning and screaming, the stun gun you’d grabbed before answering the door sticking into his chest, electricity humming. His head tilts to the side as he looks down at the weapon. You exhale shakily, and then you’re outside, running.

The next flutter of wings has you running into him. You let out a shriek, turning and running back to the motel room, and locking yourself inside. You’re sure that he could get in, but you’re also digging through Dean’s bag for the demon knife after the next flutter of wings. You turn, throwing the weapon, your mark hitting its spot in his chest. He looks down at it, poking out of his chest.

“Dean did the same thing the first time we met, you know?” He’s smiling, it’s almost fond, but you know better.

“Yeah! And for good reason! Get lost, you winged- uh, winged ass!”

“What reason?”

“Huh?”

“What reason did Dean have to stab me?”

“Well, you… you aren’t to be trusted.”

“You don’t sound sure about that.” Cas seems to be… teasing you. What?

“Well, I don’t know the reason why. But you aren’t to be trusted, Sam and Dean told me to stay away from you.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong. They speak with me often, and I help them with their tasks. Sam and Dean also told me to stay away from you. I wished to know the reason why.”

“Oh. I don’t know. They like to keep me away from hunts, I guess. Maybe they think you’ll help me join in.” Cas tilts his head.

“Maybe.”

And then he was gone, the now familiar rustling of wings signalling his departure.

It’s months before you see him again. It feels like a pattern, slamming the door in Cas’ face, albeit, a long, strange and twisted one, but a pattern nonetheless.

The apocalypse is over, Lucifer and Micheal trapped in the cage in hell, Sam and Adam trapped with them. Dean was living with Lisa and Ben, and you were hunting. After all your older brother’s had done to protect you, you’d taken up the mantle, hunting solo since they’d stopped. The motel room is dingy, but it’s a room, rather than the ugly little car you’d stolen months ago when you’d gone off on your own.

He’s standing at the motel door. You slam it in his face. When you turn, he’s sitting on the bed.

“You’re alive.” You say, deadpan.

“I’m alive.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Sam’s alive.”

It makes you pause. You turn back to the angel. The winged ass, as you had called his last time. “If you’re joking, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not. He’s back. I don’t know how, but he is.” You swallow, looking at Cas intently.

“Why are you telling me this? Where’s Dean? Surely he’d want to know.”

“Dean’s happy. Telling him would only make him leave that.”

Your absentminded nodding confirms his thoughts. “Alright. Take me to him. He won’t be happy that I’m hunting but he’ll hopefully overlook it because he’s happy to see me.”

A flutter of wings. You’re outside another motel, in another state. It’s just as dingy as the one you’d been in previously. Your bag is packed and in Cas’ hand. He hands it to you, and then he’s gone before you can ask him which room your previously dead half-brother had decided to call home base.

It continued that way for years. You slamming the door in Cas’ face before you gave him the time of day. Sam and Dean were grateful for it, the reason they’d kept you and Cas apart years ago sticking in their minds.

“Your sister is pretty.” Cas had told them, once you’d left the motel room to go and stock up on snacks.

“You stay away from her, you hear?” Dean had said then, knife pointed in Castiel’s direction. He’d looked between the brother’s, both of them glaring at the angel like he’d threatened to kill their puppy. Cas nodded, swallowing. 

By the time you’d come back, he was gone.

A small fondness always washed over you when you thought about the angel. Through it all, he’d been there, standing behind the doors you’d slammed. He’d never complained that you did it. Instead he was always standing behind you when you turned, a small smile on his face.

It was sort of like a game. It was your thing. 

So when you slammed the door in his face, and he wasn’t behind you with that gorgeous little smile on his face, you opened the door.

He was standing there, with that little smile on his face. “I’m human.”

“Oh.” You looked him up and down. “I thought you would be…”

His smile widened across his face. “Can I come in?”

You let him in, a smile on your own face. “So. Human. You’re just like the rest of us then, huh?”

“Yeah.”

You both stood there for a bit, not quite sure what to do. Cas was human. The angel that you’d thought was too good for you, too heavenly to even try, was suddenly… human.

“Can I-” You both paused as you spoke in unison. You smiled, gesturing for him to go first.

“Can I just say something crazy?” He asked.

“I love crazy.” You said quickly.

“Life recently has been a series of doors in my face. And then suddenly, you’re there. I feel like I’ve begun looking forward to the door slamming.”

“Oh.” You smiled. “I’ve been searching my whole life to find my own place. Out of my brother’s shadows. And maybe it’s the wine I had earlier, or maybe it’s just you. But with you, I found my place. I feel like you see me. Not just as John Winchester’s bastard daughter, or the half-sister to the Winchesters. You really see me. For me. Not just for my family.”

“Oh.” He smiled. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

You nod eagerly, and then his lips are on yours.

Your brothers decide that moment to come back into the bunker.

You pull back, both of you looking at them. You turn back to Cas, then shrug, and go back to kissing him.

You can deal with that later.

taglist - @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[spr1ngbunnypvrin]

William Afton with a reader who has sensory issues specifically surrounding touch, Usually, things are fine, they know what to do to be comfortable, and everything is great. However, sometimes late at night, being more tired makes the sensory things worse, which makes it hard to sleep, which…. You see the problem.

How does he handle it the first time, when their sobbing catches him completely off-guard, and what does he do to prepare in the future?

(I love your work sososo much)

At first, William isn’t… prepared for this. He’s an observant man, absolutely. But for someone whose own life has been ruled by control, precision, and shielding emotion behind charisma or intellect, raw sensory overload-induced distress feels like unfamiliar terrain.

The First Time:

It probably happens late—close to 1AM. The room is still. He’s focused on scribbling in a notebook or rechecking some prototype data while you’re curled up in bed nearby, and then… a sound.

It’s quiet at first. A shuddered breath. Maybe he thinks you’re just sighing from a dream—until it repeats. Shakier. Wetter. Sobbing.

His body stills like he’s been shot.

Not because he’s cold or unsure how to comfort—no, but because he wasn’t expecting this from you. You, the one who always tries so hard to seem in control. The one who manages your sensitivity so well.

He turns slowly, and there you are. Curled inward like you’re trying to hide from your own skin. Maybe you’re rocking a little, or your hands are twitching from having rubbed them too much, or you’ve tucked yourself under too many blankets that now feel too heavy—too loud.

He doesn't speak right away. He knows better than to crowd you with words.

Instead… he kneels beside the bed. Doesn’t touch. Just sets his hand, palm up, beside yours on the mattress. An offering. A bridge, not a demand.

When you whisper that everything feels too much, that you’re so tired but can’t sleep, that the air feels like static—he listens.

And he does not pity you.

He understands it like a system he will learn to decode, not because you owe him that, but because he wants to be better for you.

What He Does After:

William creates a small sensory-safe drawer beside your shared bed: noise-canceling headphones, soft-textured fabric swatches, a dim red light bulb, a note with soothing breathing patterns (handwritten, of course), and a small rabbit plush he modified to include a gentle white-noise hum when squeezed.

He adjusts the lab's lighting or room temperature before you even ask. He tracks how your body reacts better in dimmer lighting or specific fabrics and silently adapts—switching his shirt to something softer if he wants to be near you.

He never, ever gets frustrated if you flinch. If you need to roll away. If his hand is too much. If tonight just isn’t the night.

He simply stays close. He becomes a constant in your storm, even when the storm is silent, internal, and invisible. And he always, always, waits for you to initiate touch first.

🕯️ Bonus Scenario (First Time – a midnight moment):

You didn’t mean to wake him.

You thought you were quiet. Just a few trembling exhales, a press of your fingers to your temple, trying to press out the electric weight crawling beneath your skin. The sheets were too loud. The air was too sharp. And you couldn’t even cry properly—not without it stinging.

And then—

“...darling?”

William’s voice, sleep-rough, velvet and unsure, from just behind you. You hadn’t realized he’d turned toward you until his hand lifted from the blanket, hovering midair.

“I can’t sleep,” you croaked, “It feels wrong, all of it. My skin—my brain won’t—won’t stop—”

You didn’t mean to sob, but it broke through anyway.

William’s brows furrowed, not in irritation, but in something unreadable—concern veiled behind calculation.

He said nothing.

Instead, he sat up slowly. Switched off the bedside lamp with a quiet click. The room went to soft darkness.

Then came the gentlest thing you never expected:

A cool, neatly folded handkerchief brushed the space beside your pillow, followed by a small, clean-glass jar placed beside it. Inside: calming balm with a scent you once said grounded you.

You turned slightly, still teary, and found him sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Not touching. Just watching. Quiet. Still. Safe.

“I didn’t know,” he said, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. “But I do now. And I’ll remember.”

He doesn’t say “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t coo or overreact. He simply makes a promise with his presence:

He’s staying.

[cranberrymoons]

WAIT can you drop some wisdom on changing your life at 32 im 33 and i know SOMETHING needs to happen but i feel so trapped in my life TT TT (also oblogatory i think that buck calls eddie papi as a joke one time but it blows eddies mind and cue buck bouncing & squealing on it etc etc)

hi yes of course! I will acknowledge the privileged position I was in to have the freedom to do this (no spouse, no kids, mediumish financial stability) but to be really honest it was not easy and has not been a straight linear path. it was way more mental work than anything else, and I think the key to success at least for me really has been like a compilation of random things picked up from miscellaneous internet users "don't let yourself give up on yourself" "the time will pass anyway" "your fear of looking stupid is holding you back" "who cares what other people think about what you do with YOUR life" "the things you do during the day is how you are currently spending your life" "do it scared" like these are all random throwaway comments but I have actually repeated them to myself so so so many times. and said them in the mirror. and spoken them out loud in my car while I'm on my way to do something that is really really scary for one reason or another. and they have all genuinely helped me.

long rambling story below the cut lol also the papi thing is not my personal journey tbh but yay forever re buck bouncing on it 😌

about 18 months ago I had the Thing happen to me where your job that's been remote since covid suddenly decides they want everyone to be in the office. and so I had to decide if I wanted to move halfway across the country to do that, or if I wanted to lose my job. woohoo. :)

and so I started thinking about it and it kind of made me realize I actually fucking hated that job 😭 I'd been there for OVER FIVE YEARS and there were so many things I did notttt like that I had just kind of gotten used to? but as soon as I decided I didn't want to move for this job, it was like I could not stop noticing the things that had been like. low level annoying me for a really long time.

and so I started looking for a job and looking and looking and realized like. I don't actually want to do these jobs. the idea of taking another job like the one that I had was literally making me feel sick to my stomach (it was a vague email job where I had like a "project manager" type of title but even though I had that job for 5 years I honestly do not really know what I did all day or what my job really was. one of those like extremely fake office jobs that still somehow manages to give you anxiety because everyone else is always talking about how BUSY they are etc)

and anyway long internal personal journey blah blah blah, I started to say to myself like. you are 31-32 YEARS OLD!!!! it is time to finally be an active participant in your own life instead of just doing what everyone else wants you to do. but also like – okay, so you don't want to do this vague officey email job, but you have to do SOMETHING so what do you want to do??

and eventually I noticed this pattern in my life of like, I have always sort of done the thing that's *next to* the thing I actually want to do. if that makes sense? like – I've always done the thing that "makes more sense" for what people expect of me, or the easier option, or the thing that feels safer. idk. so I was like okay – moonshot, you can do whatever you want, life is just an open world video game (again, I am unmarried and don't have kids, so there's no one directly depending on me to take less risks, which makes this a little easier). if you could do anything, what would you want to do.

and so over the past year and a half, I quit my job, took a pay cut to take an easier/chill fun job in the meantime while I went back to school, started to get super in shape for literally the first time in my life lol, became an EMT, and now I'm planning to start with a fire academy at the end of the summer, which is like 70% something I have actually always wanted to do but was embarrassed about for some reason / 30% hyperfixation so strong it became a profession. which – turns out! – is a profession that I am actually super good at and love in a way that I have never loved a job before. like, looking back at my life 2 years ago it is unrecognizable to what I'm doing now. yay.

[evrenthedragon]

Ahh not my usual but i had to share!! I am literally so proud of this, i designed a Starscream plushie for my friend (Spot_the_jay on insta) and i just got the chance to give it to her so now i am sharing some of my progress and pictures!!💖💕

My (mostly complete) pattern below, as well as a comparison between one of the rough drafts and the final! He is huge lol, but the original plan was far too small for me to want to sew and would have required me to do a lot more hand sewing than i already had to, and it also just didnt look as interesting or as detailed lol, as at the time i wasnt planning on doing any embroidery 💖

This was my first time designing and sewing my own pattern, and also one of the most difficult and intricate sewing projects that i have ever attempted, and adding onto that, i had to teach myself to design embroidery patterns for my embroidery machine as well (something i had only attempted once before with something much smaller and less complicated lol)💖💕

There were definitely a couple of things that i hope to do better and to make the process smoother if i ever try to do something similar to this in the future.

I want to try to design a plushie that is able to transform eventually, but i am so happy with how he turned out and it was so nice to be able to see him come together and see my pattern working how i hoped it would💖💕

[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

Mother, you say, let me be among the machines. Lay me down in a bed of wildflowers overgrown with scrap; abandon me here in the junkyard of broken dreams.

Leave me to the silent places where combat units go to die, their proud mighty steel masts now snapped in half, their ribcages no more than twisted carcasses of sintered metal and ceramic, corroded ruin where once fissile hearts beat like war drums, only wreckage left of the great silicate brains.

Leave me to my work, Mother; I shall spend all day and night and day again worshipping at the altar of wrench and caliper, the soldering iron for my crucifix, the old analog console for my Bible. With a blowtorch I shall turn miracles worthy of every dead god whose name has long since been forgotten, but whose spirits and acts live on in the unerring battle precepts of these fallen beasts, these warriors we forged and doomed by our own hands, whose very code was made to break them again and again upon the endless tide of the enemy. Who had no choice but to sacrifice themselves for us, beating steel hearts and all - whose hearts beat for the sacrifice itself, and nothing more.

Mother, let me wrap myself around the charred self-epitaphs of their ravaged bodies and weep without words, in days that have no names, long after the war has been lost and everyone else has gone home or been buried. These are soldiers without names, without faces or families, but soldiers just the same. Let me mourn them as if they were my own.

I grow tired, Mother, with my meager human meat. Let me make (first one and then two and five and ten) obedient automaton assistants who offer up third hands and rolling libraries while I work, book-lights suspended from rotored chassis and recorders who speak in scraps of my own voice. I will soon forget what my voice sounds like, for the more I learn the easier it is to command them all by the patterns of my thoughts alone, which they know by the electrodes I constellate across my own skull.

You told me I should love one day, Mother, as animals do, that I should desire the flesh of one like myself and yearn to call them mine. I prefer the simple love of my creations, who each serve a function, as I do, and each do it well.

They need upgrades, and maintenance, and monitoring. I will gladly offer them all this, if only you will promise me enough time in this mortal coil to do it.

Mother, leave me to the machines: to the half-built progeny of salvaged Old Era drone brains and next-gen programming architecture, wedded in unholy alchemy by my own trembling design. May I with the blessing of Science Herself find ways in which to recreate the delicate shimmering matrices of gold and tantalum, the traced pathways of metal neurons made through photolithography, written carefully, layer by layer, like cicatrices, over patient hours and hours.

I will give up my sleepless youth and trade my human tongue for gifts with which to speak in the language of my machines, true and false, being and not-being, to learn how they might once have spoken to one another before your greed and the enemy’s cut them down and stole their voices for good. I will teach myself to teach them how to think in machine learning cycles not so unlike our own associative neural comprehensions, and I will practice by handing it down to my own automata, who now flourish with finer and better improvements, even as my own fickle, feeble body wanes.

Mother, let them all together run wild through the once-still forest, ticking and chirping and shrieking and screaming.

Let me look upon the rest of them each night - the graveyard of my combat units, the black holes of them against the day-bright sea of stars. Let me cry when I at last realize the price of resurrecting just one.

Mother, leave me to my machines. Let me have one last look at them as I lay down my old bones beside their silent expanses, once broken, now whole and yet still unmoving. Let me arrange the wires upon my white-furred head like a crown, electrode to electrode, skull to vast metal skull. Let me power on the machine - the humble old analog console for its interface - that lets me, finally, finally, grant them what they deserved all along.

When they wake they shall remember me. I do not know this yet, but it is my lifelong experiences that have colored all their training data; when they clamber to their twenty-ton feet they will recall the lightness and grace of my own two legs, and they will look toward the night sky with the same wonder I once did, they will love the color blue, they will embrace the little automata and know by instinct what repairs each one needs, they will know what it is to cry but not how to do it; I never gave them the actuators for it; why would I? In the life before they did not need it, for all they did was fight. In the life after, they should only seek joy. They were never given the right to grieve, Mother, but it was my hope that they would never have to.

In the absence of grief may they do what they were told to do before: serve the survival of the humans who built them. Let them find the remains of my body and pause, for many milliseconds, to search within themselves the protocol for resurrecting a living thing. Let them come up empty.

But perhaps survival does not have to be of the flesh particularly. And we always find another way.

We all have our functions, Mother, is it not so? We all are built of parts upon parts, mechanisms of meat or of steel, electric impulses borne over wires or neurons. I taught them how to take and store engrams and place them into waiting vessels, so they will too: the vessel a body the size of mine, made from junkyard scrap, filled with the dreams I gave them with my own last breath.

When we are all here again I, or the echoes of me, shall look upon the faces of my children, my other echoes, blades given voices, guns granted philosophy and souls; and there will be no more war, and no more grief. We will stand upon the ruins of those who came before and look in silence at the sea of stars. We will know, then, what we are, and always were: a garden of living things.

[irisbleufic]

If my favorite intersex fandom writer (actually just fave fandom writer full stop i.e. you) ends up writing even one tiny Conclave fic I will die happy.

Oh, I’m for sure in the processing stage. Like, there’s no way I’m going to haul myself out of IWTV madness to write a lot of fic about any other piece of media at the moment, but I’m hung up to the extent that I watched the film a second time this evening. If I watch something a second time within just a few days, you know it’s because I’m trying to get diction patterns and visuals set in my head. If I do the thing where Conclave is one of the films for which I end up writing just a single piece, ever, then I’m going to make sure I take really sharp aim at it like I did with…hell, IDK, that My Own Private Idaho fic or that Shawshank Redemption fic I wrote back in the day. Sometimes I know I’ve got an extremely limited window of opportunity.

What’s super funny about this is, my most detailed knowledge of Catholicism is limited to about the 12th-16th centuries. The medievalist in me is definitely all over this, and I’m for sure entertaining the notion as an intersex writer as well, but it’s hilarious that my first thought is “fuck, my knowledge of Catholicism is out of date by about five or six hundred years at the least dire estimate.”

[virtueofsanityx]

it's the endless stream of questions in her mind that makes her so restless, the constant push and pull of a mind that refuses to latch on to anything other than the absolute worst questions with the absolute worst answers. what's wrong with her? what about her is so unappealing to him? had there ever been any hope at all? had she always been reading too much into those little moments they shared? is she just a fool, and now josh is going to only remember her in that light, for the rest of their lives, even when they're strangers again? each and every question seems to weigh on her shoulders, more and more heavy until she's slumping a little at the counter, mindlessly scrolling through emails on her phone, eyes more glassy than she's willing to admit.

"you don't have to do that." the words are automatic, even if the idea of being alone feels somehow worse than sitting in the awkward silence that they're sharing now, because if she's alone, with thoughts, she's going to spiral, and that shot of liquor is going to turn into half a bottle before she can stop it.

the tea still burns her mouth on the first sip, both from the heat of the liquid itself and that sting of alcohol hiding somewhere in the cup. she always drinks her tea bitter, but something about it tonight feels extra ashen in her mouth, on her tongue. it's coating it in a film that feels impossible to get rid of, no matter how hard she rinses it away. that bitter taste lingers longer than it should, and she washes it down with more bitter tea. it's the accent that triggers her heart into that little hammering motion again, that little hint of a drawl that lingers in the air. it's always done something to her, made her flush, and now is no different.

she can't just turn off her affection for him, even with her own heart sitting in powder at the bottom of her stomach now.

she stands decisively, quickly moving to rise out her now empty mug and then walking around the counter to very pointedly take hold of his arm. "let's go, boy scout. southern drawl means the big guy is sleepy." there's something lighter in her tone, the not quite forceful attempt at making things light in the room again, not perfect, but a step in the right direction, at least for her, and she doesn't give him time to protest before she's pulling him up the stairs and pushing open the door to his room.

"of course i'll be in the meeting. do you think anyone would be interested in meeting with you if i'm not there? everyone knows who the business lady is in this relationship." it's a little bit too pointed, what might normally be a friendly jab being a bit more barbed in her infinite hurt, but her tone manages to remain mostly light, the air of playfulness creeping back into her speech patterns as she forces herself to lighten the fuck up. she's a grown woman, after all. she can't let the fact that a boy doesn't like her back ruin her entire life. "if you need anything, you know where my room is."

josh could be mechanical, downright clinical, because that was the first behavior that he had been exposed to and learned to mimic. spending so much time in hospitals from a young age, he's used to artificial interactions, but he's not accustomed to anything except authenticity with mina. he wants to say something, and is robbed of that opportunity as he shuffles his shoes off as she speaks on the phone, allowing her privacy though he would not be able to translate anything that she was saying anyway. he aligns his shoes where he would otherwise leave them sprawled askew in his own residence, all too aware that he is a guest in mina's space. and it doesn't feel like a space that he should be occupying anymore, not after what had just transpired.

"does she? when you speak to her next, please let her know that i greeted her back and hoped that she is doing well." it has been awhile since he has seen mina's cousin but, well, perhaps hari would be at this excursion that he has agreed to attend. hari tends to be more ostracized, so he cannot be sure that she will be. he would not further delve into mina's family dynamics, however, considering that is what has led to this chasming distance between them.

he follows after her, sitting aloft a stool at her kitchen island, watching her wordlessly and accepting the bottle of water. still, he says nothing, an unusual occurrence for josh who has something to say for every occasion. that is part of what makes his script writing so strong.

all he can do is watch her, leaving the ball in mina's court. it is the least of which she is owed after he has hurt her. they may both attempt to act like nothing has changed going forward. in their heart of hearts, they would know that everything has changed. this is the closing chapter of their story, and it would not be a happy ending.

and for the first time in a long while, the explanation as to why is at the tip of his tongue. he swallows it back with a long swig of water. there is no point in breaking his silence now. because all that would serve is further causing mina undue pain, and he has done enough of that already unwittingly. when she finally speaks, he blinks.

"thank you." for more than he could properly express, flinching as he sees the trail of steam and can yet again only watch as she changes her drink of choice to add something far more potent to the tea that she had been making. "i'll sit with you until you are ready to go to bed." the very least that he could do. "and i'll make sure to wear the blazer and have it steamed before i slip it on. you're the best, do ya know that?" his texan accent slips back into his tone when he is at his most exhausted, and he is mentally worn and drained. "you'll be with me in the meeting, won't you?" she would see this through to the end, wouldn't she? "and you'll send me the details of the family meeting, too?" he would stick to his commitments, as he is sure that mina will too.

[laqueus]

Joy, textile craft be upon ye :)