#comments wanted

Brand new submission for this blog by this absolutely awesome 50 hottie from Spain.

She‘s a mom of 2 and works as a teacher.

This time something special:

Like the post and comment „dropbox“.

Please send coco your email and she will add you to a dropbox with some masturbating, stripping videos.

Do you wanna be seen naked, masturbating, fucking by all with access to the dropbox? Then add a folder with your tumblr name and add the pictures and videos.

you woke up, red-eyed, and puffy cheeked.

rafe hadn’t come home the previous night and you sat on the couch all night waiting. hours and hours passed until you finally realized that rafe wouldn’t be back.

once that idea fully set, you cried. you cried, cried, cried, and cried even more until you couldn’t anymore. in the midst of your tears, you ended up wetting yourself. facing the embarrassment with a blind eye, you simply just decided to go to sleep.

you went to the couch in your soiled and tear-stained clothes, your imaginary puppy-ears sat flat on your head in disconsolate.

upon waking up, you realized you weren’t laying on the scratchy uncomfortable material of the couch. you were in the soft comfort of your bed, your cotton panties you’d ruined just last night turned into your favorite brandy sleep-shorts.

you stretched your left arm, feeling the space next to you empty. empty but warm— warm as in someone was there. someone as in rafe.

you stood up, knees wobbling, and body stiff. you walked, or more so waddled, around the house. you peeked through every room like a curious golden retriever, your messy hair falling across your face.

you peeked through the kitchen, wearily. you saw a large figure, shirtless, with gray sweatpants hanging low on his waist. he stood at the stove, cooking eggs and your favorite pancakes with chocolate chips.

“r-rafey.. where were y-you a-all night..?” you whimpered as you pouted, hugging him from behind, the length of your arms not being nearly enough to fully wrap around his waist.

he simply chuckled, not making any move to give you his attention.

“w-why are you la-laughing r-rafe..” you whined loudly.

“how was your night baby? came home and you were soaked— so fucking soaked i had to clean the couch and you hun. scrubbed that fuckin’ pussy raw” he let out a deep laugh, speaking absentmindedly as he continued cooking.

“s-stop its not funny! i was upset and worried and sad and upset..” you mewled as you began running back to your room in second hand embarrassment.

“dont run baby, y’know whats gonna happen.” rafe barley finished his sentence before he heard a large crash followed by deafening cries. all he simply did was let out a deep sigh before walking to the bedroom.

you sat on the floor cross legged, sniffing as you wiped tears from your eyes. you reached up towards him, wanting rafe to pick you up.

“pup’. i tell you about ten times everyday not to fucking run around here. the floor is goddam porcelain, you’re guaranteed to fall if you run baby. i tell you everytime but you dont listen.” he scolded you while patting your back.

you wrapped your legs around his waist as he coddled you, rubbing your hair as you whined in pain.

“i can’t help it… i just like to run..” you murmur softly.

“well then i guess we’ll just have to get that shit fixed.”

authors note : part 4 is hereee !! the start of dean groveling has begun!! part 5 released tomorrow ! (part 1, part 2, part 3)

the first few weeks after dean finally said the words out loud are almost unbearable.

not because he pushes.

god, no.

that probably would've been easier though.

if dean had gotten angry or defensive or selfish about it, maybe your heart would've known what to do. maybe you could've slammed the door in his face and walked away from it all with clean hands.

but dean becomes softer instead.

and somehow that ruins you more.

now he sees every moment he missed. every look he misunderstood. every time you stood beside him loving him quietly while he stumbled through every possible wrong choice like he had all the time in the world.

now he notices the way you rub your wrist when you're anxious. the way your voice gets quieter when you're upset. the way you stop eating when a hunt goes bad. he notices it all with this awful aching attentiveness, like he's trying to make up for years of not seeing you clearly enough.

and the cruelest part?

he realizes it right as you stop looking at him like that.

you become polite.

careful.

distant in a way that hurts more than yelling ever could.

you still go on hunts together. still sit in the bunker library. still ride in the impala.

but it's different now.

because where was this version of dean when you were sitting alone in motel bathrooms crying over him? where was this version of him when he stumbled back from bars smelling like someone else's perfume when you laid awake convincing yourself not to be jealous because dean never actually promised you anything?

thats the part that keeps eating at you.

dean never lied. never led you on intentionally.

before, loving dean felt like standing in front of a locked door hoping someday he'd let you in.

now the door is open.

and somehow that feels worse.

because now he's the one standing outside.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

the bunker changes after the confession.

not outwardly.

everything still looks the same. same flickering lights. same endless hallways. same smell of coffee and old books drifting through the library.

but now there's tension threaded through every room.

every glance feels loaded.

every accidental brush of deans hand against yours feels catastrophic.

you start avoiding being alone with him.

not obviously.

just subtly enough that only someone who really knew you would notice.

unfortunately, dean knows you better than almost anyone.

the first time he catches on, it physically hurts to watch.

you're sitting in the library researching lore when dean walks in carrying two cups of coffee.

his face brightens immediately when he sees you.

that alone nearly destroys you.

because dean looks happy just seeing you now.

like loving you has rearranged something fundamental inside him.

"i made yours the way you like it," he says softly.

you look up too quickly.

your chest tightens at the stupid amount of care in his voice.

"thanks."

dean sets the mug down beside you carefully, fingers lingering against the ceramic like he wants an excuse to stay close.

for a moment neither of you says anything.

then you stand abruptly.

"i actually just remembered sam needed help downstairs." the lie falling from your mouth is pathetic.

dean knows it too.

you see the realization hit him in real time.

the slight drop in his shoulders.

the way his expression flickers before he covers it up.

"oh."

just one word.

quiet.

small.

you hate yourself immediately.

still, you leave anyway.

because staying feels more dangerous.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

later that night you hear voices drifting from the kitchen.

sam and dean.

you only catch the end of it.

"–she won't even look at me anymore," dean mutters.

there's exhaustion in his voice you've never heard before.

sam sighs.

"dean.."

"no, seriously, man." dean laughs weakly. "i finally, finally, figure it out and now every time i walk into a room she looks like she wants to run."

your throat tightens painfully as you continue to listen.

"you hurt her," sam says gently.

silence.

then deans voice, quieter this time.

"i know."

the devastation in those two words glues you to the hallway floor.

because dean sounds genuinely wrecked by it.

and somehow your heart is cruel enough that hearing him hurt still hurts you too.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

three months after the confession, dean stops sleeping around entirely.

you don't notice at first.

honestly, you try very hard not to notice anything about dean anymore because every tiny detail feels dangerous.

but then one night during a hunt, sam casually says, "you know dean turned down some bartenders number earlier."

dean immediately glares at him from across the motel room.

"dude."

sam shrugs innocently, "what? it's true."

dean throws a balled up napkin at him.

you keep pretending to read lore even though your pulse is suddenly hammering in your ears.

sam grins slightly.

"actually, now that i think about it, dean hasn't brought anyone home in months."

"sam."

"what?" sam looks delighted now. "i just think it's interesting character development."

dean looks mortified.

and your stupid horrible heart notices how real it feels.

how different.

because dean used to flirt with women like breathing. effortlessly. constant.

but now?

now he looks uncomfortable when waitresses flirt with him.

now his eyes search for you first in every room.

now he remembers every little thing you say like it matters.

the realization settles heavily in your chest.

dean really did change.

the problem is that part of you is still standing in every past moment where he hadn't yet.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

the first time dean actually breaks down in front of you happens six months in.

it's after a hunt gone wrong in illinois.

you nearly die.

a vampire throws you hard enough into a concrete wall that blacks you out for several terrifying seconds.

to dean...it might as well have been hours.

when you wake up, he's kneeling beside you.

and he looks terrified.

not regular dean worried.

not protective.

terrified.

"hey, hey, hey," his hands are shaking when they cup your face. "look at me."

you blink slowly, disoriented.

deans breathing unevenly.

"there you are," he whispers.

something in his voice makes your chest ache immediately.

later, back at the motel, dean completely loses it.

"you scared the hell outta me."

you're sitting on the bathroom counter while he aggressively cleans blood off your forehead.

"i'm fine."

"no, you're not." his voice cracking.

that alone makes you freeze.

dean never lets his voice crack.

"i thought you died," he says quietly.

the confession hanging heavy between you.

your heart twisting violently. unforgiving.

dean stops cleaning the cut and suddenly leans forward, resting his forehead briefly against your knee like he physically can't hold himself up anymore.

and the sound he makes–

god.

it sounds broken.

"i can't lose you," he whispers.

the words his too hard.

because once upon a time you would've given him everything for that sentence.

everything.

your throat burns as you say, "you can't lose something you never had."

dean goes completely still.

you feel it.

the way the words cut into him.

slowly, he lifts his head.

his eyes are glossy.

actually glossy.

"you really believe that?" he asks.

you chest aches so badly it's hard to breathe.

why do you keep getting yourself in these positions?

"don't you?"

dean stares at you for a long moment.

then, painfully honest–

"no."

your heart stutters.

dean swallows hard.

"i think i had you for years," he says. tears sting your eyes immediately. "and i was just too stupid to realize how precious that was until i ruined it."

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

after that, dean starts trying harder somehow.

not in grand gestures.

dean isn't a grand gestures kind of man. he was never good at them.

instead it's consistency.

relentless, unwavering consistency.

he waits up for you after every hunt.

always.

even when you tell him not to.

you'll walk into the bunker at two in the morning exhausted and covered in dirt and dean will already be there, sitting at the library table pretending to read.

the second he sees you, relief washes over his face so visibly it hurts.

"you okay?"

always that question.

like your safety has become the center of his entire world.

one night you finally snap a little.

"you don't have to keep doing this."

dean looks confused as he asks, "doing what?"

"waiting up."

his expression softens instantly. "yes," he says quietly. "i do."

the sincerity in his voice nearly cracks your ribs open.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

around month eight. castiel corners you in the kitchen.

"you are unhappy."

you laugh tiredly, "thanks, cas. i can always count on you to tell me the honest, brutal, truth."

he tilts his head.

"you are unhappy because dean loves you."

"that's sounds insane who you say it out loud, cas."

castiel considers this.

"perhaps."

you stare down into your coffee.

"i wanted this for so long."

"yes."

"and now i don't know what to do with it."

castiel is quiet for a moment.

then–

"humans often believe timing determines love."

your chest tightens.

"but?"

"but i have lived for millions of years." castiel's voice is calm. "and i believe love itself is rare enough that humans should not waste it when they find it."

you swallow hard,

because that's the problem, isn't it?

you still love dean.

desperately.

even now.

maybe especially now.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

by month ten dean looks exhausted all the time.

like loving you without knowing if you'll ever let him fully have you back is slowly killing him.

but he never stops.

never complains.

never pressures.

he just stays.

and that unwavering patience somehow hurts more than anything else.

one night you find him sitting alone beside the impala in the garage.

beer untouched beside him.

him eyes look red.

"dean?"

he looks up slowly and your heart immediately sinks because he looks devastated.

not angry.

not frustrated.

just tried.

"i'm trying so hard," he says quietly.

the honesty of it lunches straight through your chest,

you sit beside him before you can think anything of it. before you can stop yourself.

dean laughs weakly.

"you know what the worst part is?"

you don't answer. you let him have this moment.

"i finally learned how to love somebody right," his voice cracking. "and i learned it too late for the only person i wanted to do it with."

tears immediately sting behind your eyes.

dean exhales shakily, "but i'll keep trying anyway."

your chest aches so badly it feels unbearable.

dean finally looks at you then.

eyes soft. wrecked. hopeful in the saddest way possible.

"i would wait forever if i had to."

and suddenly you realize–

he means it.

the same way you once meant it.

the same hopeless, terrifying, unconditional way.

and sitting there beside him in the dim garage light. your heart starts asking the one question you've been afraid to answer for almost a year now.

what is this version of dean was worth risking everything for?

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

the thing was...

dean stopped saying he thought he loved you.

because eventually he realized words weren't enough.

actions were.

and every day he chose you.

without being asked.

without expecting anything back.

dean never pushed.

never demanded.

never asked when you'd be ready.

he just kept showing up.

every day.

the same way you always had for him.

and eventually...

you started believing him.

not because of what he said.

but because of what he did.

.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★.·´¯`·.·★

one night you both were sitting on the hood of the impala watching the stars.

neither of you speaking.

just existing together.

dean glanced over and found you already looking at him.

his heart did the stupid thing is always did now.

"you still waiting for proof?" he asks

a smile tugged at your lips as you say, "a little."

dean laughed. genuine.

"fair."

you look down at your hands.

then back at him.

"you know what the difference is?"

"what?"

your eyes softened.

"you don't say you think anymore."

dean stares at you.

because you're right.

of course you're right.

he didn't.

not anymore.

"i love you"

the words came easily now. like saying them wasn't as impossible as he once made it seem.

certain.

steady.

true.

not hesitation.

no fear.

no second guessing.

just honesty.

"i know," your voice was barely above a whisper.

dean's heart nearly stopped.

"you do?"

"you proved it." a genuine smile graces your lips as you as that.

and for the first time since you'd walked away from him that night in the library...

dean finally believed he'd earned the chance to love you back.

LINK RAH 👹

(the fic is called unlikely match and basically SoT is a shadow milk on the path of redemption and tr is a vampire (jampire)

Read tags because blood (jam) warning

GO MY PROMO ART 👹🫵

(based on a scene in the fic)

❀ my name is Rossy

❀ I’m 19

❀ I’m from the US, if you ask I’ll get more specific :)

❀ I love the beach!

❀ my kinks are praise, cnc, bondage, and more. I’m open to a lot of things:)

❀ yes, I sell. I’m open to chatting but I will not send unless I’m paid. Please ask for my menu!

❀ I offer audio and video calls, so message me if that’s something you’re interested in learning about :)

❀ I am open to (paid) meetups! Message me if you’d be interested in that so you know what I require beforehand :)

❀ yes, I make sex tapes.

❀ I post a lot of gifs and pics of my tits and ass. I will tell you my cup size if you ask nicely!

❀ I have tumblr and Instagram. If you’re interested in chatting with me outside of tumblr I’m open to sending you my insta.

❀ I am plus size and I do not tolerate fatphobia!

❀ I’m 5’1

My No’s:

❀ I do not have discord, session, or telegram. I will not download them just for you.

❀ My Snapchat is not something I will give out unless you are buying from me.

❀ I am not into degradation. I will not respond if you degrade me.

❀ please do not send me nudes without my consent. I am open to receiving them as long as you ask.

❀ I do not trade nudes, I only sell.

❀ I do not interact with pedophiles.

❀ I do not interact with minors. If you are under 18 please do not interact with this page.

I’m excited to get to know you all!