False Alarm My Shift Has Been Moved To Sunday

I need Butcher to eat it noisy and sloppy from the back. Like, moaning while he laps, sucks, and nips at you. His nose, lips, and beard shimmering with slick. His huge, veiny hands gripping your ass to keep you spread. Supporting your squirming weight with his muscled arms. Speaking directly to your pussy as he slaps it.

“Oh, such a good cunt, yeah? Look at’cha, all messy for daddy, huh?”

writing this has me throbbing 😭

i'm just leaving this here because yes

thats all my brain can come up with

it decided to short circuit

i love butcher brainrot

apparently castiel sucks and i am weird as fuck

matched with a hot man on tinder but he managed to insult me and CASTIEL in the first message

Thinking and thinking and thinking some more about Boyfriend!Simon.

All big and scary. Pretty much always wearing black, and other muted colors, and his balaclava. He’s so big. So bulky. So muscular. And when he does deign to talk to anyone outside of his close circle, his voice is so deep and rough, isn’t it? The man is so very naturally intimidating and off putting, right?

And then there’s you…his girlfriend. His very cute, very pink girlfriend. Adorable, really.

So feminine, you are.

Always in some skirt or dress. With a ribbon or bow in your hair. Perhaps some sandals on your feet. Maybe some heels, depending on if you’re in the mood for them. Lip gloss on your lips, a generous dusting of blush on your cheeks…

You look angelic. Cherubic.

So different than your boyfriend.

You two contrast each other so very much.

You are a spectacle, for sure. The kind that, in some cases, really does make people stop and stare. Because really—you look like a pretty princess and her big hulking guard dog.

Little does anyone know that it is this “guard dog” of yours, your beloved boyfriend Simon, that picks out your every outfit.

It’s Simon that chooses which dress or skirt you wear for the day.

It’s Simon that decides whether bows or barrettes that adorn your hair.

He even has the final decision on how you get your nails done when you go to the nail salon.

Gel nails or acrylics. Coffin or almond shaped. French tips or plain color, or if you get a design. The design itself. Whether your nails are topped with those little jewels…

All of it. It goes through him.

Not that anyone would believe either of you if you were to reveal the truth (as if you ever would…).

The truth of the matter is that he quite likes dressing you up. His big, rough hands have been used for so much bad. So much destruction and pain has been caused by his hands. So, taking care of the ever so beautiful and delicate you, fills him with so much purpose and satisfaction.

Besides, there’s something to be said about being the one to dress you up in the way he desires…and then getting to undress you, too.

Dressing you up. Dressing you down. He enjoys it all.

And so do you!

You like being his pretty pink girlfriend. You like how carefully he decides on your outfit for the day. You like the look he gets in his eyes when he’s finally pleased with how he’s dressed you.

So you let him. You let him decide. You let him take control in this way.

Because you enjoy being his perfect little doll.

gotta go to work today

kill me

i hate being a waitress

it's been already 2 years since Eddie Munson and I still cannot stop thinking about how much i need him to finger me

like i am sorry i just know he would be a god at it and it would be a religious experience for me

pussy flavoured

Happy Pride Month~!

do i need to say more?

i meet someone younger than me and i immediately go "i could be a good mother" and start taking care of them like they are my own child

lord have fucking mercy