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chevroletdean · 1 month ago

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nsft alphabet [dean winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

genre: smut, explicit ─ minors dni! a/n: writing headcanons was easier than a kinktober one shot, oops. enjoy, i'll try to follow up with a sam version soon. and possibly other characters? (i'm feeling like writing one for alec mcdowell tbh) feel free to request any in my inbox! credit & links: alphabet ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts) @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It honestly depends on where you guys are, but generally speaking, he always makes sure you’re okay. If there’s anything you need, he’ll tend to it – which can range from a clean towel to a gentle forehead kiss. Even if you’re technically on the run or have somewhere urgent to be, he at least makes sure you’re both good to go.

Preferably he likes to take his time with you though. The aftermath of sex is one of the rarer opportunities for Dean to be openly sappy and vulnerable. Even with hookups, to some degree at least, the warmth of a lover’s arms is one of the places he can fully relax and he wants them to feel just as comfortable.

That said, he can be a little lazy. He makes sure the necessities of aftercare are fulfilled, always, but don’t always expect a luxurious bubble bath and immediately changing the sheets. Oftentimes he just wants to collapse onto bed with you and catch his breath.

He’s 50% giddy and proud smile – all cocky grins and smug bragging – and 50% sleepy. Your embrace is the closest he can get to experiencing heaven, he’s sure and getting to rest his head against your chest is the best feeling on earth. The sound of your steady heartbeat will definitely lull him to sleep and he’s insistent on cuddling the whole night through.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He has a love-hate relationship with his face. People keep telling him he’s handsome and even call him a pretty boy and sometimes he can’t see what they see. Most of the times his face card is a useful tool when it comes to investigation and working his charms. Other times he can’t stand looking at his own reflection. But when you compliment him on his freckled nose, his green eyes and long lashes, he definitely takes pride in it.

This particularly applies to his lips. He knows you love how pink and plump they are. And how pretty you think that smile of his is. It gets him anywhere he wants. Plus, the things he can do to you with that mouth, speaking sweet nothings, kissing you all over… what’s not to take pride in?

As for you, he’s a simple man, sometimes bordering on caveman – he’s obsessed with your butt and not shy to let you know. Whenever he gets the chance, his hand is somewhere on or close to your ass.

Your hands too though, not a chance he passes up on to hold it, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t think about your hands on him 24/7. If you wear any rings or nail polish, he always notices.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Loves to ask “Where do you want it, baby?” but his personal favorite is definitely in your mouth. Not even down your throat, he loves seeing you stick your tongue out for him, all coated in his cum, before you swallow.

He’s tried tasting his own cum before out of curiosity and had conflicted feelings about it. He’s even considered changing his diet afterwards, but (unsurprisingly) he got tired of eating so much fruit pretty quickly.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a secret, since it’s literally canon and we all know he loves wearing lacy panties, but yeah. He definitely stole a pair of your underwear before and he’ll deny having seen it anywhere if you’d ask.

Since he loves sexting, he definitely has a nude or two of you and after annoying Sam enough to show him how the stupid printer worked, he now keeps his favorite lewd picture of you in his wallet, because why not? It’s especially useful when you two have to be separated because you’re working on different cases or something of the sort.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Dean has obviously fucked around a lot (literally), countless of hookups under his belt. He definitely knows what he’s doing and he can be very annoying about it when he boasts.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

You on top of him is his favorite sight. His hands get to grab everywhere and he loves that he can focus on watching his cock slide in and out of you as you ride him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sex, for Dean, is fun. It’s a good time, where you get to enjoy each other and make each other feel amazing. If he can’t get a giggle or a smile out of you, he thinks he’s not doing his job right.

However, there are definitely occasions that call for a more serious mood. Such as intimate moments after a rough day, where he and you just want to unwind and feel each other.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Short answer: He keeps his pubic hair trimmed, but not completely shaved.

Long answer: There’s other body hair he treats differently. Over the years he’s developed light chest hair, which he sometimes bothers to shave. He keeps his happy trail, as he’s never thought about it. His thighs are somewhat hairy. His body hair sometimes has a little hint of red color mixed into it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Unfortunately there’s little room for the real big romantic settings, such as rose petals and lit candles around the bedroom. With life on the road for the most part, you have to make do with what you have. He tries to make each time as special as possible though, it’s always passionate.

Dean’s a big softie once he lets his guard down, which you manage with ease. Very verbal, huge on saying sweet nothings. Lots of kisses. Definitely likes holding or touching you throughout it all. If possible, not a sheet of paper will fit between you two.

Eye contact is his strong suit. Doesn’t matter what position you’re in or what you’re doing, he loves getting lost in your eyes. If you ever avert your gaze or close your eyes, he reminds you to keep them on him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Dean, as a certified porn addict, beats his meat a lot. His libido is high and he can’t always come crawling to you, so he relies on trusty lube and his hand more often than he likes to admit.

Definitely has a fantasy of you walking in on him and lending him a helping hand.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Roleplay! Just the thought of you in a sexy costume gets him hard. You’d make him the happiest man alive if you greeted him in a nurse costume. He’d also be into a police officer costume, handcuffs included. It’s fun and it allows you two to play pretend for a bit.

Praise, both ways. He’s always gushing about how good you are, how amazing you feel, how pretty you look while you’re fucking. In return, he loves getting praised by you. Nothing fuels him more than pleasing you and he’s so eager for those compliments.

Food play, to some degree. He loves seeing your pretty mouth stuffed, lips wrapped around a sweet treat in seductive fashion. Or when he gets to lick whipped cream from your skin? Again, playful and fun.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His favorite location for sex remains a bed (bedroom, motel, he’s not too picky in that regard), because there he can take his time with you.

Of course making sweet love to you in the backseat of his car is always an option, too. The way the Impala's windows fog up is addictive for him.

That said, he won’t say no to other options. Not an inch of the bunker has not been defiled by the two of you. Shower, kitchen, the table in the main hall, the library, even Sam’s room while he was out. You name it, he’s fucked you there at least once.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Dean Winchester’s mind runs dirty at the smallest things. It doesn’t take much to pop the idea into his head that he wants to bend you over the nearest furniture or pin you against the nearest wall to have his way with you.

When you’re in a grumpier mood – that might sound shitty, but hear me out: He loves your gruffier, feisty side, because it makes him wish he could make that tension in your shoulders melt under his touch. He wants to kiss that scowl away and make you see stars until you forget about why you were even mad in the first place. You are hot. You being angry is even hotter, and it’s like a challenge for him to do something about it. Plus, you could always take it out on him, dominate the shit out of him until you’re no longer pent up and frustrated.

What never fails to drive him absolutely crazy is you wearing his clothes. You in his shirt or jacket makes his heartbeat skyrocket and his dick rock hard. It awakens something primal and possessive within him.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

A hard no for him would be anything involving causing you (intense) pain. I’d go as far and say he’d not even be into spanking, unless it’s like a playful slap on your ass. He’s not even a fan of choking or biting you. He hates seeing you hurt and if things get too intense, it’ll only trigger memories of him being forced to torture others in hell. There's already enough blood and guilt on his hands.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Hear me out when I say earlier seasons Dean goes weak in the knees when you suck him off. Nothing more of an ego boost than you drooling over his cock.

Later seasons Dean though? He likes to give head like a starved man. Getting you off is a huge turn on for him and admittedly, you riding his face is a high that he can’t compare to anything else. He’ll use every part of his mouth, lips, tongue, teeth until your legs give out and he has to hold you against him.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood. He can do both, but he prefers slow and sensual. Dean loves taking his sweet time with you, worshiping every inch of your body. He wants to cherish the moment and really commit every detail to memory.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Again, proper and passionate sex is his preferred way to go. But even then he has a high sex drive and more often than not, you don’t have much time for anything but a quickie. Most of the time, actual proper sex is a luxury, so you make do with what you can.

If you two have to rush it, you might as well have fun with it: It’s turned into a challenge of how quickly he can make you come undone on his cock versus how long it’ll take for you to make him orgasm.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Leaning towards no. Referring back to the fact that he doesn’t like hurting you, he also doesn’t like putting you into danger. Safety comes first, otherwise it’s not enjoyable for him.

On the flipside, he’s experimental when it comes to new things. You wanna try out a new kink? Sure! He won’t say no to spicing up your sex life. Just nothing involving potential damage.

He definitely is risky when it comes to public spaces. Likes to steal touches, sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much. The thrill of potentially getting caught red handed with his fingers between your legs under the table? Fuck, yes.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s not done until you are.

Lasts an average time, but that doesn’t mean he can’t go for a round two. Or three. Or more, you get the idea. Unless the situation calls for anything out of the order, he makes sure to be gentleman enough to make you cum first.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Handcuffs for him, or anything to tie him up with, you can get creative, so long as you tease him until he’s a whimpering mess unable to touch you.

Once you pulled out a butt plug and initially he thought it was for you, but, oh, was he wrong. Since then it has turned into a regular part of your bedtime activities.

He’s not one to get jealous of a toy, so if you want to use anything to rile yourself up further, he sees it as an aid more than a competition. Plus, there’s something insanely arousing about seeing you play with yourself, whether it is with the help of a toy or not.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

More than anything he enjoys being on the receiving end of teasing. You can make him beg so prettily.

However, that’s during the sex itself. When it comes to working you up beforehand, he’s a master. Teasing touches, sultry words, dangerous spark in his eyes and a cheeky grin? He’s bold and he’s not afraid to bite off more than he can chew.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

If you want him to be, he can be so damn vocal. Big on the whimpering department if you dominate him. And, again, just as enthusiastic regarding sweet praise and dirty talk.

Other than that, he’s usually all heavy panting and grunting. Not so much moaning and screaming, that’s what he tries to make you do.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He knows it’s cliché, but he likes to turn on the record player when he has sex. Playing some music during the hanky panky makes the whole experience even better. His playlist, of course, consists mostly of classic rock, but he’s genuinely picked the more romantic songs. Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin, Love in an Elevator by Aerosmith… you get the idea. After an especially passionate night to a whole LP of Led Zeppelin, he couldn’t help but flinch and turn bright red when the same songs started playing in his car the next day. Dean also made a mixtape just for the occasion as a gift for you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

A good six and a half inches, about seven when he’s hard, in size and definitely on the thicker side in girth.

It’s smooth minus that one prominent vein on the underside.

Pink tip that turns even brighter when he’s aroused.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He broke the scale, Dean is one horny bastard.

He’s either going to town on you, much to the dismay of anyone else in the bunker, or he’s pent up most of the time.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After making sure you’re okay and putting in some effort to clean up (at least a little), he’s out like a light. Dean is a light sleeper, but the blissfully exhausted state he finds himself in after exerting himself makes him clock out. It takes everything from him to not just collapse on top of you and say hello to dreamland sometimes.

#supernatural headcanons #dean winchester headcanons #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural x reader #supernatural x y/n #supernatural x you #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn headcanons #dean smut #spnhc #spnsmut #chevroletdean writes

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filipinoizukuu · 3 months ago

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i headcanon that sakura is like... one of those few people with immense control over their body to the point where its kinda scary.

he says all the time to anyone mentioning it that he's good for nothing but his fists and fighting, but i really believe that he's the kind of guy where like... anything he tries to do, he can get good at it and pick it up REALLY quickly. he's an incredibly fast learner (exhibit a, the pre-noroshi training arc) and also has really good control over his physicality (exhibit b, his signature move where he turns a fall into a handstand kick).

the boys in class 1-1 constantly get him to play games and sports with them because of bonding reasons, and sakura always gets uneasy because he never had anyone to play with growing up. so they all kinda have to teach him every sport except it backfires because he always gets CRAZY GOOD at them REALLY EASILY.

basketball? despite the height disadvantage, it takes less than a day for sakura to master dribbling and passes + he's crazy accurate even from the 3 point mark. volleyball? call him hinata shoyo because he has an INSANEEEE vertical for spiking. baseball? a lot of stupid rules to learn and easy to get wrong, but sakura knows his way around a bat for sure. soccer? absolutely massacres the field no survivors left. anzai is crying in the corner. kiryu (goalie) is dead.

and it pisses them off to no end because sakura has NO BUSINESS being good at all these things! its not even that he's instantly great at anything he tries, but rather because he learns INSANELY QUICKLY and can commit a movement to muscle memory within a couple of days. thank god furin doesnt have a sports festival because nirei is absolutely certain that sakura would sweep the floor with the first years and leave no crumbs.

it applies to other things too. one day sakura either stumbles upon or hangs out with shishitoren and he gets the opportunity to ask tomiyama how he did that insane flip against umemiya. hes really shy to ask bc he did go around acting as if he knew how to emulate choji's crazyass acrobatics before promptly eating shit on the asphalt. choji, obviously always wanting to have fun, teaches sakura some moves

"well it's not as easy as it looks, but i can teach you some moves. you're a good fighter already sakura-chan, so i'll give you some harder ones to start with. don't worry if you can't do—"

sakura nails it in three tries. it's probably one of the top 5 best days of chojis life because it turns into a contest of him busting out a gymnastic trick and trying to see if sakura can replicate it. shishitoren is amazed and confused. togame doesn't know whether to be amused or worried. hiragi winds up getting into their territory just to bring sakura home because if no one intervened sakura would end up joining shishitoren and becoming chojis favorite disciple. it certainly already helps that they have similar fight styles that require insane flexibility, but damn sakura isnt this a bit too much?!@?@

he's still hopeless with technology tho lol. years later and sakura is still horrible at mario kart and can't text for shit. god had to nerf him somehow!

#wind breaker #winbre #sakura haruka #i love u sakura #windbreaker #wind breaker headcanons #wbk

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novemberheart · 2 months ago

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{overview} you make a disturbing discovery while in John’s office

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, short chapter, slight angst

Chapter 23 <- Chapter 24 -> Chapter 25

While you had never been happier, a part of you was ready to return to base. You missed your friends and the routine that came along with it. You wouldn't miss your pack being sent to the odds and ends of the world, but you knew they were more than capable.

You and the betas drove back to base, while the alphas flew. Vernie didn't have all her shots to be able to fly. Luckily, the betas would never turn down a road trip.

“This is your new home,” you cheered softly. The familiar smell of the flat tickling your brain. The puppy decided to take great interest in the cords near the TV.

“Gonna have to puppy-proof,” Simon huffed, grabbing the squirming creature off the floor. You expected him to pass her to you, instead, he sat down on the couch placing her in his lap. You cleaned up around your room, dusting things and finishing the loads of laundry from vacation. “You’re happy,” Simon stated, looking over his shoulder at you.

“It’s nice to be back. Not going to be happy about any of you leaving though,” You mumbled the last part, flopping down on the couch next to him. Vernie crawled over to you.

“I’d hope not,” Simon grunted, causing you to roll your eyes.

There was hardly a day to get back into the swing of things. The boys being pulled for trainings and meetings. You quickly regretted saying you were happy to be back.

“Five more minutes,” you whined, Kyle’s phone alarm lighting up the room. The sun hadn't even started to come up yet.

“Alright,” Kyle agreed quickly. He put his phone on snooze, worming back under the covers with you. You both jolted awake ten minutes later to pounding at the door. “Fuck,” Kyle cursed stumbling out of bed. You giggled, the door opening to reveal a pissed-off John.

“How the hell are you supposed to train others when you can't even manage yourself?” He snapped. He pushed his way into the room, bumping into Kyle who was changing into his uniform. He bent down pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Good morning, pretty girl,” his voice was startlingly different- yet you had gotten used to that. You wrapped your arms around his neck, making sure to rub as much of your scent on him as you could.

“Good morning, alpha.”

In John’s eyes you were too sultry for your own good. “I’ll come back and get you for lunch,” he pressed another kiss against you, grabbing Kyle by the scruff, knowing if the beta had the opportunity to kiss you goodbye he would never get to training.

“God, I missed you!” Anais grinned wickedly, wrapping her arms tightly around you. Even Jane seemed happy to see you. Anais had signed all three of you up for badminton, which ended with all of you trying to get the badminton birdie out of Vernie’s mouth.

Regardless, it was fun.

“I’m hungry,” Anais sighed, even as she chewed on her bag of trail mix. “Lunch?” She questioned eyeing both of you.

“I can't. I have lunch with my alpha,” You explained stretching out on the grass.

“Oh, that's right. It’s Wednesday,” she sighed. “Need us to drop you off before we head out?” She asked, moving to a stand.

“That would be great,” you perked up. Vernie was exhausted at this point- not being the most high-energy pup in the first place. “Hey, they are having a movie night in the park Friday. We should do that,” You suggested, causing Anais to light up.

“Just as long as it’s not a scary movie this time,” Jane huffed, making the two of you chuckle. They dropped you off outside the office building, and you made quick work getting to John’s office. You couldn't be caught hanging around by yourself. You knocked at the door not hearing a response. You tugged out your key card, waiting for the small light to flicker green.

“This is John’s office,” you explained to Vernie. Even though she couldn't hear you, you could tell she liked it when you talked to her. You locked the door behind you, setting the pup down on the floor, making yourself at home on the leather couch. John’s office was classically handsome just like him. Well as nice as it could be with what he had to work with. You pulled out your phone, shooting him a text of your whereabouts. Vernie digging in the trash can caught your attention.

“Out of there Vern,” you scolded gently, grabbing her around her middle. She had a folder in her mouth she just wouldn't let go. “Vernie,” you chided again, pulling it out of her jaws as much as you could without hurting her. You finally succeeded, ready to throw it back into the trash when the label caught your eye.

OHH

You knew what that stood for. Omega Holding House. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you. You shook yourself out of your thoughts. It was probably just leftover paperwork from you. You tossed it back in the trash standing back on your feet, bringing you and Vernie back to the couch.

You couldn't relax. Those three letters remained even when you closed your eyes- taunting you. You stood up slowly, creeping back by the trash can, and pulling the folder back out. You pursed your lips trying to manage your breathing. You placed it on his desk, opening it like something would jump out at you.

Something did. A cover letter, typed and signed by Kate Laswell.

Possible Omegas for Task Force 141

It had been typed in bold, obnoxiously large letters like it was the greatest achievement one could have. ‘Possible’ the words pounded in your head repeatedly making it throb. You flipped to the next page. It was a profile of an omega, the first thing that caught your eye was the large red X through it. Must be John's writing. You flipped to the next page. Another profile- another X through it. You weren't quite sure why they had got rejected. Nothing in their biography seemed like a red flag and they were all pretty. The next page- another X.

You whined when you flipped to your page. The large red X staring up at you. It was rejection to the highest degree. Kate had even wrote a special note on yours.

Pay close attention to this one. She's a good girl.

John had written a note himself, addressing Laswell.

Not happening

You knew he probably didn't mean you specifically, and that he was referring to having an omega as a whole, but it hurt. The type of pain that made you sink to the floor. They type of pain that made your lungs feel like they were collapsing. The type of pain that comes from falling in love with someone only to have them shut the door in your face.

You flipped to the next page because what did you have to lose?

A lot apparently.

There was no red X. There was no marking on the page at all. You flipped to the next page- the last page- a red X. It was just her page without an X.

She was the one he had wanted. Who knows? Maybe all of them wanted her. You could practically see them in this office digging through each paper, judging every imperfection on each profile- including yours. She had no imperfections. She was beautiful, purebred, and came from a long line of military alphas. She was the shining star of her omega-holding house. Never once getting in trouble, always being an active participant, showing signs of being a strong, traditional omega, and her heat cycles were always regular. The opposite of you in nearly every way. The more you read the more hurt you got. You closed the file, trying to calm your sobs enough so you didn't pass out. Vernie was at your feet pawing up your ankle. You scooped her up into your arms, making your way back home.

People stared at you. You could only imagine the rumors. You were undoubtedly the most dramatic omega on base- at least the one that caused the most trouble. Your tears made people stay away from you and you were able to get all the way home without a hitch. You shut your bedroom door, throwing yourself on your bed sobbing. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You regretted everything. You regretted agreeing to come here, you regretted warming up to each of them so quickly, you regretted sleeping with John.

John.

The name made you sob harder.

It wasn’t fair.

Would you ever be someone's first choice?

I hated writing thisssssssss😩but we can't live in peace for too long! See you in two days for Chapter 25!!!

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princessbrunette · 4 months ago

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stepbro!johnb knew it was wrong. god, he knew it was demented, and sick — but he couldn’t stop. he was pent up.

things had been kind of a mess lately, and despite popular believe, no — finding and hunting treasure was not all sunshine and rainbows. it was a lot of dead ends, a lot of waste bins filled with screwed up paper covered in ideas and plots that were going nowhere. sometimes you had a piece of paper, a pen, a map and a dream — and that was it.

john b could have sworn he saw you scribbling away during a plotting session in this specific pink paperback journal. it looked like any other notebook you’d use to jot down everyone’s ideas. you weren’t too good at the whole treasure hunting thing yourself but you were eager and had the right spirit so the pogues could often rely on you to scribble down anything important they might say during these sessions in which they’d bounce off eachother. this was why john b picked the book up and opened it in the first place.

once he started reading, even past realising that this was infact your diary — he just couldn’t stop.

“oh, uh…” he coughs awkwardly to an empty house when he flips it open and finds his own name in pink glitter pen, hearts and swirls galore. you hadn’t exactly been subtle about your attractions towards your older step brother— never missing an opportunity to bat your lashes up at him, touch his chest whilst you’re talking to him, even find a way to sit on his leg when there was just no other room — but for the most part he assumed you were just teasing in your own cruel way. passing the time, so to speak. he wasn’t expecting this.

his eyes continue to flit from word to word, each more graphic than the last until he’s stumbling across full descriptions, day to day on what you’d do to him, moreso what you’d let him do to you.

‘john b was so frustrated today. he needs me, i know he does. he has that look in his eye! that super frustrated one that looks all tired and irritated and unlike himself. he’s usually so warm and comforting but today he looked like he was gonna snap. i thought he might finally march over and bend me over… a girl can dream i guess :( when i finallyyyyy got some alone time i spent it grinding against my pillow, wanting him to come in and catch me. i wonder if he heard the bed moving… if he hears me moaning… i don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, need john b to come and break me in :( ♡’

the more he reads, the harder he gets against his shorts— sighing out his nose, blinking in discomfort as he adjusts himself. he looks around, knowing you were at the beach with kiara but still feeling paranoid. it’s one thing to have such dirty thoughts about your step-brother, but atleast they were private. john b gets caught reading them? he’s the bad guy.

he tells himself it’s not you doing this to him. it was simply his anatomy betraying him. he couldn’t help how his body reacts.

he feels dirty when the tip of his cock grazes the pages, now sat on the edge of your bed like he could jump up at any minute given the sound of the front door closing. he’s turned the page, landing on a particular fantasy that had his hand moving and cock leaking before he could dare to question the morality of it all.

‘john b looked so good today :( i love when he bosses me around all big brother like ♡ he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, it’s like second nature for him to look after me. wanted to sit between his legs and make out with his dick :( i bet it’s so pretty and i know it’s big cos sometimes he doesn’t wear boxers under his pants and i see it swinging it around. wanna suckle on it whilst he tells me im a good girl like he did that one time when i was sad. his voice just gets me so wet, can’t stop humping everything n rubbing my clit whenever he leaves the room. i’m like an animal and im not even ashamed anymore. i need him :(’

the brunette groans as he squeezes his eyes shut, fisting and twisting the way he imagines your smaller hand to— inexperienced yet with a feverish hunger to please and a vast knowledge of sex which he could only imagine was learnt through word of mouth and porn. god, the thought of his sweet little step sister sprawled on her back, legs splayed open — pawing at her glossy cunt as she scrolls to find the perfect porn video. it was enough to send john b mad.

he wondered if you tried to find pornstars that looked like him, or if you just used your imagination for that part. john b liked to think himself a humble man, but in the throes of his passion he couldn’t help but accept the warm embrace of the ego trip the thought gave him.

“oh fuck, so wrong — so fucking wrong—” he strains, feeling that burning hot twisting in his stomach as that familiar feeling overcomes him. he clearly hadn’t thought this through, before when he opens his eyes once more — he’s covered your delicately decorated page containing your fantasies with his white hot sticky syrup. “ohhhh god. oh no.” he hums, eyes widening slightly.

yet there was no time to act— for as soon as he’d realised, he could hear the jangling of your keys and your familiar giggles as you lead your new-ish friend into the chateau, probably moments away from singing out his name, wondering if he’s home. he slams the book shut and he’s sure it oozes from the edges of the page— stuffs it back beneath the pile of clothes on your chair where he found it and makes quick work of tucking his deflating cock back into his pants.

john b fears he might be in big trouble.

#div by qqmariztwsse #nympho!virgin!reader #stepbro!johnb #tw stepcest #tw fauxcest #if u squint ig

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lilsmv1 · 7 months ago

Text

orange cat - OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: What happens your neighbour's adorable orange cat starts to pay you daily visits?

Word count: 1k

London welcomed me with its perpetually gray skies and damp weather, a stark contrast to the sunny shores of California I had left behind. As I settled into my new apartment, I couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness for the warmth of home.

For the first few weeks, I hardly saw my neighbours, lost in the shuffle of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings. But one persistent visitor soon made himself known – a vibrant orange cat that would perch itself on my windowsill, peering into my living room with curious eyes.

At first, I found it amusing, but as the days went by and the cat became a regular fixture, I grew concerned. Surely, someone must be missing their furry friend. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I scribbled a quick note on a yellow post-it, explaining the situation and tucking it under my neighbor's door. "Your cat seems to be visiting me often," I wrote. "Just wanted to let you know in case you're worried."

Days passed, and I received no response. I wondered if my neighbor had even seen the note or if they simply didn't care about their wandering pet.

But then, one evening, there was a soft knock on my door.

Opening the door, I found myself face to face with a handsome young man, his expression sheepish yet friendly. He held a small box in his hands, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from within.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he began, his accent unmistakably Australian. "I'm Oscar, your neighbor from next door. I just wanted to apologize for my cat bothering you. And, well, to say thank you for looking out for him."

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine demeanor. "No problem at all, your cat is lovely, I was simply worried you might wonder where he was" I replied, accepting the box of pastries. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Oscar" I replied, introducing myself as well.

"Do you maybe wanna come in? I can make us some tea or coffee and we could eat the pastries you brought?" I added.

"I would love that!" replied Oscar with a warm smile.

From that moment on, Oscar and I struck up an unexpected friendship. We bonded over our shared love for his cat and baked goods, finding comfort in each other in the big city of London, so far from our respective homes. Oscar told me all about his work as a Formula One driver, and I could not help but be in awe of how passionate he was. I, on the other end, told him about the teaching opportunity that got me to move here, and I would often tell him cute stories from my classroom.

As weeks turned into months, our friendship deepened. Oscar proved to be not only a generous neighbor but also a reliable friend. Whether it was helping me fix a leaky faucet or lending a hand with heavy groceries, he was always there when I needed him.

Our weekly movie nights, whenever Oscar wasn't out of the country, became a cherished tradition, a welcome break from our everyday lives. We'd take turns picking films, debating over classics and hidden gems late into the night.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, I couldn't ignore the growing feeling in my chest whenever I saw Oscar. He was kind, funny, and undeniably attractive – qualities that drew me in despite my best efforts to keep my distance.

One day, as I scrolled through Twitter during a lazy afternoon, I stumbled upon something that caught me off guard. Pictures of Oscar, smiling brightly alongside a beautiful girl with long blonde hair.

A pang of jealousy shot through me, surprising in its intensity. I realised then, with startling clarity, that my feelings for Oscar ran deeper than I had initially thought. But it was too late – I was now pretty sure he was already taken, and I had no right to interfere.

Unable to shake off my newfound jealousy, I began to distance myself from Oscar, avoiding our usual interactions and retreating into solitude. But my sudden coldness did not go unnoticed.

One evening, there was a sharp knock on my door, and when I opened it, there stood Oscar, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What's going on with you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with hurt. "You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

"I'm not" I replied defensively.

"Come on, don't give me that bullshit" replied a rather angry Oscar. "You've been avoiding me. Have I done something?" he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability.

I hesitated, the weight of my emotions heavy in the air between us. But then, with a surge of courage, I found myself blurting out the truth.

"I... I think I'm in love with you, Oscar," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "And seeing you with someone else... it hurts more than I thought it would."

For a moment, there was silence, the tension palpable. But then, to my surprise, Oscar stepped forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"God, you can be so dense sometimes" he breathed

"Hum, excuse me?" I replied, clearly offended.

"The girl you're talking about, that's my new PR manager."

"Oh..."

"I thought I was being fairly obvious as to how I feel about you." he said softly, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.

And with that, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a heated and passionate kiss, leaving me breathless.

#oscar piastri #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff

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sleepyjuice · 5 months ago

Note

28 + 45 w jj ofc

summary: jj picks you up from a girls night!

warnings: drinking, vomiting due to drinking (it’s barely described and not detailed!) jj once again being an absolute dream<3

All bets were off when it came to a good old classic girls night.

It had been far too long since you, Sarah and Kie had a night to yourselves without the boys. But for once, the boys had plans for the night, so the three of you took this opportunity and ran with it.

You had met at Sarah’s, as she somehow had the house to herself for the weekend, which also meant unlimited access to Ward’s in home bar.

You could barely even remember what you were drinking after a while, all of you completely wasted just a few hours into the night.

Kiara had passed out on Sarah’s bed, out for the night, and Sarah was texting John b to come back early so he could stay the night with her.

About a half hour later, you heard the doorknob to Sarah’s bedroom rattling, causing the two of you to gasp and grab onto one another, both of you positive there was an intruder breaking in to kill all of you. Kiara wasn’t phased, still sound asleep, and you envied the fact that she would go semi peacefully, while you and Sarah fought for your lives.

“Oh my god, Sarah, we’re gonna fucking die!” You whisper yelled, Sarah’s fearful eyes meeting your own as you clutched onto each other for dear life from your spot on the floor.

You both screamed when the door opened, hiding your faces against one another as you prepared for the worst, and you damn near jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, leading you to cautiously peak your eyes up.

“jj! What the fuck?” You gasped, your heart still racing, but you soon giggled at the sight of your boyfriend’s shocked expression, looking beside him to see John b sharing the same look of shock and confusion.

“What the fuck, me? Y’all just screamed bloody murder for no reason. John b just texted Sarah that we were here and she texted him back and said to come up. Literally like two minutes ago.” jj explained, now noticing all of the empty bottles and glasses scattered across Sarah’s desk. He certainly found the humor in this situation, but he was just confused.

Your eyes widened at his explanation, turning to Sarah, both of you immediately giggling loudly.

“Oops!” She laughed, reaching up for John b’s hand so she could stand up.

“Glad you ladies had a good night,” John b spoke, his hand around Sarah’s waist as he held her up, “Kie still with us?” He asked, glancing over at the sleeping figure at the bed.

“Mhm, she knocked out a little bit ago. She smoked a little, too, so she got sleepy.” Sarah responded, leaning into her boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you home, baby.” jj spoke as he helped you to your feet, his hands fixing your shorts that had ridden up from sitting for so long.

“John b, you staying the night here with Sarah?” jj asked, the brunette nodding in response as he worked to keep Sarah upright as she swayed.

“Yeah, I’m gonna take her into the guest room so she can sleep. She’s fallin’ asleep in my arms.” John b responded, sarah giggling sleepily as he led her out of her bedroom.

“John b! Make sure you take her makeup off ‘fore she sleeps, ‘kay?” You quickly reminded your friend, giggling once again as you leaned back into jj’s arms that were wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you in place.

“Copy that. Night guys. jj, take the Twinkie and just pick me back up sometime tomorrow.” John b stated, tossing the keys to jj as they made their way to the guest bedroom.

jj gave a little salute to his friend as they walked away, turning you to face him now, smiling lovingly down at your flushed face.

“You get into a lot of trouble without me, hm?” He grinned, patting your ass gently as you gushed up at him.

“Maybee…” you hummed, leaning up to plant a little kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, unable to stop smiling. You had a good night with your friends, and now you got to go home with your boyfriend. Life couldn’t get any better at the moment.

“Yeah, you do,” he laughed, “let’s grab your stuff so we can get back to the chateau and get your little ass to bed.” he instructed, dropping his hold on your waist to grab your shoes that were discarded on the floor a few feet away.

He looked at you, and you gave him a look, which he knew all too well. Shaking his head, jj kneeled down to slip your shoes on your feet, unable to hide his little smirk at your behavior.

“Got me doin’ all the work here.” He teased as you smiled satisfactorily, your heart swelling at your boyfriend’s sweet actions. He was so good to you.

“Alright, you bring anything else?” He asked, glancing over at your purse sat on a chair across the room, stepping over to grab it.

You shook your head at his question, expecting him to hand you your purse, but instead he put it over his shoulder, causing you to giggle giddily.

“You look so cute!” You gushed at your boyfriend, wishing your phone wasn’t in said purse so you could take a picture.

“Yeah, I know, let’s get going, baby. Say bye to Kie.” He rolled his eyes, walking over to stand in the doorway as you gave Kiara a little kiss on her forehead, seeing as she was still sound asleep.

You followed over to jj, watching as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind him as you made your way down to hall and to the top of the long and winding staircase, stopping at the top as jj went down the first few steps.

He turned to look back at you when he realized you weren’t right behind him, immediately recognizing the look in your eyes.

“Baby-“

“Can you carry me?” You asked before he could finish speaking, swaying slightly as you were dizzy and the length of the staircase below you was rather intimidating in your current state.

jj sighed dramatically, but not in annoyance. He loved how soft and clingy you got when you were drunk. It honestly wasn’t too different from how you normally were, but your behavior was endearing to him and he felt happy to be not only wanted, but needed. Even if it was something as small as carrying you when you were drunk and didn’t want to walk.

You couldn’t hold back your smile as jj made his way back up the top few steps, positioning his arms below you and swooping you up so he was carrying you bridal style.

“Thank you, jay.” You hummed in appreciation, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head into the crook of his neck as he carried you down the long staircase.

Once at the bottom, he managed to keep you held up with one hand as he pulled the front door open, stepping outside and pulling it shut before repositioning his other hand to hold you properly again.

You sighed at the feeling of the fresh air hitting your skin. The slight breeze felt like heaven against your flushed cheeks and the sound of the not so distant waves hitting the shore was nothing short of soothing.

“Glad you had fun tonight, baby.” jj murmured as he walked through the large front yard towards the Twinkie, setting you down to open the passengers side door for you to get in.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sudden shift from being held in the air to standing up straight had your vision spinning and your stomach turning.

“Ughhhh…” you grumbled, no stranger to what was about to come.

jj read your expression immediately, recognizing your sudden shift. He acted fast, pulling your purse off his shoulder and setting it on the hood of the Twinkie before moving behind you to pull your hair back as you knelt down over the grass that surrounded the long driveway, his other hand holding your waist steady so you didn’t fall as you began to empty your stomach into the grass. Sorry Sarah.

You threw up quite a bit, coughing loudly once you were finished as you worked to get some air back in your burning lungs. jj’s hand patted gently at your back, cooing soft words in your ear as you recovered.

“It’s okay, I got you.” He spoke softly, sitting down on the pavement and gently pulling you down to sit between his legs and lean back against his chest, wanting to give you a minute to recover before getting in a moving vehicle.

You sighed as you leaned back into jj, the air slowly filling your lungs again, closing your eyes as you let the cool breeze help cool you down as you recovered.

“I love you, jj, so much.” You spoke quietly after a moment, turning your head behind you to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. His soft skin looked beautiful under the moonlight, his blue eyes looking nothing short of iridescent as they met yours, his soft pink lips tugging up into a grin before kissing the top of your head several times.

“Mm, I love you, too, baby.” He spoke into your hair before resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Let’s sit here a few more minutes and then let’s get you home. Gotta get my girl to bed.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you

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randomdragonfires · 8 months ago

Text

Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

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alwaysmoncheri · 13 days ago

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐈 | 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

summary: you've always had a thing for JJ, but your relationship with Rafe has always been intense—heated and frustrating. The two of you are bound by similar trauma and can't deny that your hate for each other might not be hate after all.

cw: fem!reader, slightly bitchy!reader, pogue!reader, mentions of alcohol/bars, swearing, mean!rafe, jealousy, angst, steamy but no actual smut?, 1.8k

You have no business being here. You know it, your friends know it, and by the way everyone’s glaring, the Kooks definitely know it. But you would never pass up an opportunity for a distraction and an opportunity to make fun of the Kooks in their natural habitat. So here you are, clutching a glass of something that tastes way too expensive, surrounded by a crowd that’s trying too hard to look like they don’t care—including you.

The atmosphere buzzes with superficial chatter and hollow laughter that doesn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes. You step away from the bar, scanning the crowd for any one of your friends and with no luck you make your way back outside. You look around once more, ignoring the high-strung Kook princess glancing you up and down as they walk by. You don’t care, you don’t owe them anything—their approval means shit when all they do is flaunt daddy’s money in designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails.

You keep yourself composed, confident, your expression scaring away any extra company. The heat clings to your clothes, but you’re focused, scanning the crowd for your friends. You spot Kooks tangled in steamy make-outs and Pogues spilling drinks into the pool, when you finally push past the crowd, your heart drops. There was JJ with Kie sprawled across his lap on one of the chairs by the pool—giggling and drinks in hand. A pit forms in your stomach, and you almost lose your balance with your heel catching in the crack of the stone path beneath you. Taking the last swig of your drink, you set it down at the closest table, and turn back to the bar—but before you can take another step, John B, Sarah, and Pope approach you with a tray of shots.

“Y/n, where did you go?” John B chimes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “Come do shots with us!”

You smile fakly, shaking off the pit in your stomach, “Fuck it!” you grab a shot from the tray in Pope’s hands and throw it back. The liquid burns pleasantly and you reach for another.

“Woah, slow down,” Pope half-laughs, pulling the tray away from you.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, “You act like I can’t handle it.” John B and Pope share a worried glance, their concern palpable, while Sarah offers a warm, encouraging smile before tugging you toward the dance floor.

As you step onto the floor, the beat of the music thrums in your chest and you sway your hips, feeling the rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and excitement, mixed with a hint of expensive drinks that waft from the nearby bar. The flashing lights above create a dizzying array of colors, casting playful shadows across your skin.

You spin with Sarah, your laughter mingling with the music, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The world becomes a blur of movement and sound, the bass thumping in your ears like a heartbeat. Amidst the chaos, you can’t help but glance up at the real reason you came to the party. When your eyes find his you grin, knowing he’s been staring at you for much longer.

Rafe Cameron. Fuck, he’s too hot for his own good.

You have a thing for JJ sure, but Rafe gets under your skin like no one else. You hate to admit it’s more exciting than frustrating. He’s leaning against the balcony railing, drink dangling lazily from his fingers. Muscles flexed in that tight polo shirt he’s always wearing. He doesn’t look away, and the scowl never leaves his face as his eyes trail up and down your body. You smirk, blow him a kiss, and watch as his jaw tenses. Fucking tease. He would say. His whole body shifts as he takes a sip of his drink. He’s just too easy, already worked up from a little kiss. He turns to walk back into the house, a silent invitation for you to meet him inside. You follow his movement, watching his shoulders taut through his shirt, heat trailing down your spine.

“I’m going to get another drink,” You quickly tell Sarah, and she nods, continuing to dance, before you peel away from her and into the house where you’re met with another crowd of people. Tannyhill is dark and rich, always taunting you with the wealth that hangs in the air. You hate that it makes you feel inferior like you’re a piece of trash that found its way out of the bin. Like you’re never chosen, like you’re always watching everyone you love choose someone else over you, every time. But you hide under your facade and make sure nobody sees through you. Maybe that’s what was so frustrating about Rafe, you were two similar, he knew who you really were, and he saw right through it.

“Didn’t realize this place was letting just anyone in tonight,” Rafe drawls from a spot against the wall, eyes sharp and locked on you.

You roll your eyes, “Didn’t realize you had a monopoly on all parties, Cameron.”

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Pogues will do anything for free drinks, huh?”

“You cross your arms, stepping forward with a defiant glare. “Not every night revolves around getting wasted, Rafe.” you retort.

“Then what are you doing here?” He asks, his smirk widening like he knows something, “Trying to get wasted enough to forget your little crush is fucking your best friend?”

Bingo.

“Who cares if they’re fucking,” you shrug, ignoring his question, “It’s none of my business.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, the jealousy and frustration radiating off him as he crosses his arms, muscles taut, you can’t help but look, “You’re awfully good at pretending you don’t care when you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t keep looking over at me would you?”

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away, “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m only looking because you’re staring at me like a creep.”

He steps even closer, his lips to your ear, and you can hear his hot breath against your neck, “Maybe you like it,” he says, his tone dropping to a low murmur.

Maybe you do.

You scoff, but the quickening of your heartbeat against his chest betrays you—his condescending smirk widens, “In your dreams, Cameron.”

You’re stunned when he surges forward, connecting your lips into a harsh, heated kiss. One hand finds the back of your neck, entangled with your hair and the other finds your waist. You respond instinctively, your hand clutching the front of his shirt as you lean into it, feeling his grip tighten on your waist, staking his unspoken claim.

When you finally break apart, you let out a shaky breath, gaze darting to the crowd swirling around you. You’re dizzy, perhaps from all the booze you’ve had or more likely from the fact that Rafe just kissed you within a crowd of people, where anyone could’ve seen. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch your breath before taking your wrist firmly, his jaw set, and steering you through the crowd without a word.

“Rafe,” you hiss, attempting to pull your arm from his fingers which harshly dig into your skin, surely leaving red marks. You stumble behind him as he pushes open a door down the hall and pulls you into a dimly lit room before slamming it behind you. He runs a swift hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in a moment of panic—he’s shuttering and mumbling incoherently—you take a step toward him, “Jesus, can you chill out for a second?”

He turns and his eyes meet yours, possessive and distressed, like he’s done with waiting—it makes your pulse race. He takes a step, you blink, and he has you pressed back against the door, hands gripping your forearms firmly, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

His mouth crashes into yours and his hands find your waist quickly, bringing your hips to his. You kiss him back with the same amount of aggression, fighting each other with your stubbornness. You give in and sigh against his lips, you feel his smirk before he kisses you harder, like he’s making sure you don’t forget who you’re with. His hands are all over you, sliding up your sides, then into your hair as he tilts your head back to kiss you even harder. Despite the guilt, you can’t help but lean into it, he was addicting. Your hands roam his shoulders, feeling the tension and heat radiating from him.

“Rafe…” you whisper, barely able to focus as he tilts your head to the side, his mouth tracing along your neck. “Rafe, Rafe, wait. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your fingers dance across the back of his neck, and the way you’re tugging him closer challenges your words, “Tell me to stop.” he says, his words a tease, knowing you can’t. When you respond with a scoff he chuckles against your neck before swiftly lifting you, moving across the room, and throwing you down onto his bed. He throws his shirt off before climbing on top of you. You unbutton your shorts and throw off your tank top before his lips capture yours. You slide your hands up his chest and around his shoulders as he tugs at your button lip. You arch your back, lifting your hips to grind against his. He lets out a desperate groan that sends heat to your pussy, soaking your panties.

“I’m going to ruin you,” Rafe says roughly, lust clouding his eyes, he grabs your hips pushing you up the bed but just then, you hear a buzz from your phone—a text. The small disruption pulls you back to reality, you pull back, pushing Rafe off of you, and scramble to find your phone in a pile of clothes only to see the name JJ lighting up your screen. The words, “Where’d you disappear to?” flash on your phone. A pang of guilt hits you before the bitterness sets in. Your friends don’t actually care where you are right now—they’re just curious to see if you’ve found another guy to spend the night with.

Rafe leans on his elbows, still lying on the bed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, “What’s wrong? JJ finally wants to fuck?”

“Don’t be a dick.” you hiss, “You don’t know anything.”

“Don’t I?” Rafe says, tilting his head condescendingly.

He did.

“Just shut up for once.” you say, pulling him onto you—he chuckles sliding down to kiss the inside of your thighs. You gasp when he flattens his tongue against your clothed pussy, making you buck your hips. He slips his hand in your panties, ripping them off in a single motion.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, sliding into you, “This’ll fuck him over.”

masterlist . rafe cameron masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

#my works ──★ ˙🦋 ̟ !!#masterlist #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe cameron scenarios #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron drabble

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angels-fantasy · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet Confessions

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Description : After a night out with friends, Bakugou decides to tell you something while you two are eating sweet pastries.

Details : 1.8k words, friends to lovers, cussing, reader and bakugou are over 21! readers looks are not specified in any way, but she is a woman. small mention of alcohol.

this is my first fanfic ever, so please be kind! constructive criticism is welcome :)

When Bakugou received a text message from Kirishima inviting him out to eat with the bunch of other idiots, he immediately declined. Though this was nothing new, and it was something his red-haired friend was already expecting. Which is why he had Mina execute plan b.

Raccoon Eyes

Yo Bakugou! Come out with us tonight. You're always locked away in your apartment. Let loose a little!

Bakugou glared at his phone and typed out a message.

Hell no.

UGH BAKUGOU!! You're literally no fun. I can't believe you'd miss out on the opportunity to see this cutie -.-

A few seconds later, a picture was sent. When Bakugou opened it, he saw that it was a picture of you. He brought his phone closer to his face and looked it over carefully. He noticed you were dressed for the occasion, like everyone else in the background, and you were smiling widely at the camera. Mina probably told you to pose.

He must've been looking at your photo for too long because another text from Mina came in.

You drooling or what lover boy? Hurry up and get here so you can make a move already. We all know you like her 🙄.

Bakugou felt his face flush. It was true, he did have a crush on you. And though he never verbally admitted it to anyone, they all saw right through him. Except you, of course.

He clicked his tongue and typed up a quick response before beginning to get ready.

Shut up. I'll be there in 30.

"Woo! We got him!" Mina cheered, leaning across the table to high-five Kirishima.

You looked between them suspiciously, "What are you guys plotting?"

The pink woman had the audacity to look nervous. "Nothing! Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, okay."

As Mina and Kirishima kept whispering to each other, you squirmed in your seat. You knew the other pro heroes at the table fairly well, but not enough to just strike up a conversation like you would with Mina.

"Hey pretty, what do you look so nervous for?"

You turned to the left and were faced with a yellow haired man.

"Oh, hi Kaminari. I'm not nervous, just hungry. They're taking a little long to bring out the food. Don't you think?" You lied.

Thankfully he was kind of an airhead. "Oh yeah I know right! I'm starving. I'm gonna go ask how much longer!" He said and got up out of his seat, leaving you alone again.

You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Since Mina and Kirishima were too busy talking to each other, and you didn't want to bother talking to anyone else you decided to scroll mindlessly on your phone.

Some time later, the empty seat next to you was pulled out and sat in by Bakugou himself.

Your ears got hot at the sight of him. It wasn't the first time you'd met him, you two were good friends after all. But you never got used to how handsome he was. It was like he got better looking everyday. You began to wonder what he looks like under that button up-

"Hey nightlight, what're you staring at huh?" He asked, snapping you out of your trance.

"Shut up! I told you to stop calling me that." You said with false annoyance.

"It ain't my fault your quirk makes you a nightlight." He smirked. You scrunched your nose to hide your laugh, but unknowingly failed since Bakugou still saw it.

His nickname for you was completely harmless, and came from your quirk which allowed you to produce light from your hands. It wasn't anything comparable to a pro hero's quirk, but it did have its uses.

"Kacchan you made it!" Midoriya exclaimed with his big smile.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, "Shut it nerd, or else I'll leave. Give me a menu, yeah?"

Midoriya laughed off his words and passed him a menu, used to his harsh way of speaking.

Dinner went on without any problems, and the food was delicious. Everyone around the table cracked jokes, brought up old memories, and some people had even began drinking alcohol, including you.

Your drink wasn't very strong, but the few you had was enough to have you a little tipsy. Thankfully, you took an uber to the restaurant, so you didn't have to worry about driving.

During dinner, you and Bakugou engaged in a conversation. Mostly about his hero work and the villains he had caught recently.

Once everyone finally finished their food and drinks, they had all begun to leave. Slowly leaving one by one, some in pairs as well.

While you grabbed your stuff, you got on your phone to call for an uber but got interrupted by Bakugou talking to you.

"How you gettin' home nightlight? You better not even think about driving after drinking." He warned.

You brushed him off, "I'm taking an uber, don't worry!"

He grunted in agreement and was silent for a moment before saying, "I'll give you a ride home. C'mon."

"No it's okay! I can just take the uber home. Besides, didn't you drink too?"

"Hell no I didn't. It's not my thing. Just hurry up and accept my offer alright? This is the only time I'll be this nice."

You smiled at his words, knowing he was lying when he said this was the only time he'd be nice.

"Alright then, let's go!"

He smirked and held out a hand for you to hold, which you did while he walked you to his car. He made sure you didn't fall on the way there, and even opened the door for you.

"Wow what a gentleman you are. Do you open doors for all the ladies?" You teased.

"Nah, so consider it special treatment for you Nightlight."

You smiled shyly and wiggled your feet a bit after he shut your door and got into his own seat.

The ride to your house was quiet, except for the occasional small talk. But it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was a comforting feeling for the both of you.

When he pulled up to your place, you turned to him to say goodbye, but instead you said "Um, do you wanna come inside with me? I have some pastries I made earlier..."

He laughed lightly at your words, "Sure, but be ready for me to critique the hell out of those pastries."

You led him inside where you both took off your shoes and coats. You ushered him to sit on the couch and relax while you went to go prepare some drinks and the pastries for the two of you.

While you were gone for a few minutes, Bakugou couldn't help but think about how he was actually inside your house. It wasn't the first time he'd been there, but it was the first time he'd been there alone. Just you and him.

In the midst of his thinking, he felt his phone buzz and he looked at it to see a message from Kirishima.

Shitty Hair

I see you left with your little nightlight ;) Better make a move while you have the chance!!

Bakugou huffed and sent a middle finger emoji, then silenced his phone. He didn't need any distractions.

Finally, you came from the kitchen with a tray in your hands and placed it on the coffee table.

"Here they are! My babies. I hope they're still good, considering they're not as fresh as they were this morning." You said nervously while sitting down next to him.

Bakugou hummed and grabbed a pastry, biting into it. You watched silently as he chewed and swallowed it, anticipating his reaction.

He bit it again, "S' good."

You smiled, "I'm glad you like it. That means a lot coming from you, Bakugou. Your cooking is so good!"

He turned away with a red face, "Of course it is. I'm the best at everything. And why don't you call me Katsuki? We've known each other for years now."

"Oh, I didn't realize you felt that way. Sorry Baku-erm, Katsuki. I just thought you didn't want anyone to call you that, especially since Kirishima doesn't even call you that..."

"Tsk, I feel a lot of ways. You just don't know about it."

Your interest peaked at his words. "Oh yeah? Then would you do the honors by telling me how you feel Katsuki?" You teased.

Bakugou felt himself hesitate before speaking, which is something he never did. Gosh, he couldn't believe this is how he was going to confess to you.

"I like you, idiot."

Your smile fell and your expression formed into one of pure confusion. "What?"

Damn. Maybe that wasn't the right move.

He began to panic and sat up quickly, "Ugh, nothing. Forget about it-"

"No! I'm not forgetting about that." You said while grabbing his hand, pulling him back down onto the couch.

As he sat down next to you in silence, you kept his hand in yours. "You like me Katsuki?"

He huffed and turned away. "So what if I do? It doesn't matter-"

You grew frustrated at his words. "Of course it matters! Stop acting like this is nothing. I need you to talk to me seriously, because I don't want to get my hopes up..."

He looked back at you, only to see your eyes watering. "Hey wait-don't cry. Shit. I'm real fuckin' bad at this, ain't I?"

You laughed and sniffled, "Yeah, a little."

He sighed and squeezed your hand that was holding his.

"I uh, I do really like you. I have for a while. I just didn't wanna fuck up what we already had-" He was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck tightly.

"You big dummy. I can't believe you thought you'd mess things up."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he still wrapped his arms around your waist. He stayed quiet to listen to what you had to say.

"I actually like you too, y'know. I have for a while now."

He smirked and hugged you tighter. "Thank god. I was almost afraid you'd run out on me."

You snorted and pulled away slowly. "No way in hell would I do that. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He threw an arm around you and said, "Well I'm glad ya did. 'Cause you're my girl now."

"Don't I get any say in this?" You asked jokingly.

"Nah, you agreed when you said you liked me back."

Extra:

That night, Katsuki decided to sleepover at your place since you two had already made it official. You lent him some mens pajamas you had since you were sure they'd fit him, which he fussed about because he assumed they belonged to another man.

"No Katsuki, these are actually mine believe it or not."

"Tsk, good. If I ever find any other loser's shit in here I'll blow it up."

#@angels fantasy #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #my hero academia #mha bakugou #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #mha fluff

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theoccultz · 4 months ago

Text

How do they really see you ?

Req.

Minors dni (18+ mention's )

General reading, take what resonates , leave what doesn't

Pics and dividers not mine , credits to their rightful owners

Thank you for all the reblogs , likes and comments i appreciate it 🖤

See ya at your pile !!

Pile l . Pile ll. Pile lll.

Pile 1 .

Queen of wands , 8ofpentacles, 4ofpentacles

Hyena

They see you as helpful and relient you will pass the opportunity if you feel like others need it more ,you guys are good at guiding others you may be a teacher or you're just that friend who is able to decode easily you can read faces like a book you guys look well put together you may know what suits you and what doesn't very well . They think you get a lot of attention although you look interested in what others have to say , your mind wonders somewhere else you may have r-b-f so its hard to read to read your expressions , you're professional in a sense . you look relaxed most of the time they may see you working a lot you always seem to be focused on something, they think others bother you ,people want to talk to you but they dont respect your boundaries and they kinda feel you get annoyed when someone is interrupting you in your day to day life , they thought you were arrogant when they first met you but they've gotten used to your rbf ,they understand it was them projecting.

They think you love food and you take care of your health, they think you have good hygiene, you may style your hair or they like your hair , you respect others space ,if you say No others wouldn't force you because there's this sternness in your voice , they think you're closed off though you may interact with others you kind of hate spending too much time with others , they love whatever language you can speak i'm picking up on an accent here , they think you have a graceful presence like say there's a meeting or a party you have dressed up exactly how the dress code expect you to be , they think you are a minimalist . You are not that person who sings like they own the party there's something very ethical and well mannered.You seem to do your own thing i dont think you need help in almost anything, you can figure out things for yourself this person seems to be impressed with your qualities or persona because they're somewhat like this too and they think its a rare quality to have . They think you're more head than heart /intellectual maybe ? They dont like to think of themselves as helpless and you exactly seem to replicate that , they think people are fake these days and would stab you without a second thought , this person is not like this they are loyal until they die , either you are this gossip bee just trying to be someone you're not LMAO this person has seen you turn down others it was satisfactory, there's a lot of gossip bess here hmmm , anyway they think you dont give a shit ☠️✋🏼 although its risky and you have to give in to social pressure but you just mind your own business even though you know about the disadvantages . Yeah

They think you shouldn't be disturbed for some reason , not like you're a wild person who'll start yelling at them but they just see you enjoying your presence and being relaxed?they dont think you get excited about a lot of things like you're very Sophisticated, you dont play games . I dont know if you speak to this person but this person is down bad for your voice ,for your vocabulary like what ...???they think you're kind of cutthroat that you can hurt them with your words if they mess with you ,thry think you have anger issues but they like it 😭a bad bitch with anger issues ? yes sir ....they may have seen you lash out and they think its for everyone's good you are silent fff this person was turned on .

They think you're very sweet & cute although no one would agree with them , they seem to look for you when you're not there like they randomly start to think about you , they kinda miss you when you're not around, this person unknowingly observes you i'm seeing a vision of someone working and the other person is like 👁️👄👁️ , this person is atrracted to your essence they're addicted to your mannerisms idk who is this ...could be a boss , a friend, but they really admire you , this person is a powerful person themselves, they share a good connections with others, they're more good at understanding & convincing others than you . They think how you're are a free thinker , you love to learn about things , you guys are great advice givers ,you guys are very open and direct to the point it intimidates them , you look youthful and dress creative you have energetic boundaries they wouldn't wanna touch , you guys carry individualistic quality,you dont get easily influence by societal norms , you're not gonna follow everything the world puts out , you use your own guidance.This is someone who has gained interest in you after a long time , you may knew each other or knew of each other but you didn't really care at first , i see even if this is a platonic connection the feelings are developing, this person finds you really beautiful physically and wants to be closer but they themselves is a little aloof and doent like to get attach to anyone ,they're everyone's friend but who is actually "their" friend? This person seems be a professional, they are mindful and careful unlike pile 3's person , this person do not wear this heart on their sleeve , they are over prorective of themselves, this person is still on that stage of getting to know you , like they think a LOTT.

Song : damn is this an ex?

Thanks for reading !!

Pile ll.

Ace of pentacles, king of swords , the high priestess

Black swan

They see you as someone who'll be victorious wherever you are , you have a likeable personality and a charming aura that really draws others to you, they love your company, they love your smile the most, they love your hair , your lips , your dressing sense , your piercings, they think you ALWAYS look fabulous, they think you're a breathe of fresh air ,you light up their world , they're very grateful to have you in their life , they love to talk to you and they really look forward too .They kind of put you on a pedestal, this person really see "you" the crazy you , the childish you , the sweet you, the angry you and they love everything version of you 😭they think people are really lucky to have you , they think you have a healing presence , they see you as someone that needs to be protected you're just so kind , generous and welcoming ...they feel jealous that your energy is put there , they love your personality they love to spend time with you or they want too , you could be an introvert and they are like an open book .

This person is telling me that they feel accepted in your presence , they love your music taste, you feel s if you're their lost missing piece , your interets ate very similar,they think their inner child really flourish in your presence, i'm getting this .....when i'm with them all of my worries are taken by god kinda vibe ....they think you keep your issues to yourself and that you need to release and let go they want to help you in the process of it , you have a positive effect pn people,they think there are some people in your life who troubles you and they fucking hate that, they think you are photogenic, they love your hair , they think you're really fun to be around, you bring a lot to the table , they wanna heal & grow with you even if you lose contact someday they'll remember you as if you're there to celebrate every best thing that happened in their life , this person kind of feel pressured to do more because they see you doing so much , they're insecure and sad about something and nobody knows it and there isn't a lot of thing's that gets them excited or bring joy but you do , you may travel together, study together, you may know their family, they could be your cousin , they could be someone you have a crush on .

If this is someone not platonic & the feelings are Mutual , you should find out and openly give them hints . They think their efforts are ignored sometimes like they're that friend who do the most and they get ignored, they want to ignore you but they cant , there are some thing they dont communicate because they dont want to ruin this relationship but they really dont like others interference in your connection ,they think you ignore them when you have others company

Alright k thats it (: looking back at your reading, they seem to be someone you have helped in some way and that's why they like you so much because that was something really heavy weigh-in them down ,you helped them unknowingly or knowingly , they also seem conglict free and likeable but they dont like a lot of people thats the issue .

Your song: i love when the song matches the vibe of the reading .

Thanks for reading!!

Pile lll.

Death, the devil , the world rx

Bee

Well what do i say , the cards speak for itself + i dont get any different vibe from the original interpretation of cards

Alright let's start this is about to be confusing......this person finds you attractive, they think about you obsessively and they dont want you to know , you're a though that cross their mind and stays there forever, this is someone who is sexually attracted to you or they admire your body , they kinda have wild assumptions so stick with me ,i'm not getting toxic vibe rather a really enamoured one ,they think you are more sexually experienced than them , they compare themselves to you a lot , they think you'd up for fwb without emotional connection, this person thinks of you as a mystery they want to know "Everything" about you , you intrigue them , wouldn't be surprised if they stalk you online , this person try to hide so much its Insane , they dont want to let you know that they are interested in you they feel as though you will avoid them or you will make fun of them ? They could annoy you on purpose, this person is a little annoyed themselves, they feel stuck and they want to take action , they cant just keep fantasizing about whats not real . They want to be friends with you .

This person wants to be involved in your life and be there for " you" , they think you guys are compatible although they are more sociable than you , I'm feeling surprised because they seem to be wayy invested than they think they would be , they would analyse your mood and wonder about it , they think you dont pay much attention to them like heck you dont even seem to know them that well even though you may have known them longer than they think , this person's energy is straight up hopeless i think this is someone who gets a lot of attention and praise , they seem to have it all , they could be in a authoritive position in life , like they could own libraries or they are the big sister /brother of the family or their friends rely on them for support, they have this natural ability to make others feel secure , they are helpful and sweet , they dont like drama and they are big on action and manifestations , they are also very stubborn and wants things their way , they could fit in to societal expectations but they feel as though they put up a front and pretend to be someone else , they get drained easily and they seem to like books especially mystery books , they like to have their own space they could own a bigg ass house as well , they seem to work a lot like they're damnn busyy in their life but they still like to check up on you its their daily routine, this person has had a lot of hope from the very beginning, they kind of accepted they liked you, this person is possesive asf , it ticks them off its their insecurity. How would you recognise this person? Others see them as a fun but a disciplined person , They are the well liked cool person in their community and they are intelligent with their words , they have attractive eyes and they wear lighter colours , they are their neighbours favourite, they also dont seem very fashionable, they stick to formals and basic . Yeah , this person also think you are imaginative and artistic and they want to like your interests so bad to connect deeper with you and to make themselves familiar , they could have water placements specially pisces , i feel like they may look tough and big but as a child ??? they were just everyone's little troublemaker but also a sweetheart awwww this is so cute . Their friend circle is influential tho , they are judgemental as well hmm interesting. This could be an online connection but it doesn't have to be , you guys just don't interact that much although both of you are intrigued, this person could have a controversial past lol ,its just something about their eyes they seem like a deep thinker although they may not look like one , this person reminds me of suga from bts , you know how he's so tough on the outside like he doesn't care but he's so aware & invested about his friendsdislikes & likes , he knows them better than they think he does

ahhhh anyways this was heavy .

Your song : see i told you

Thanks for reading!!

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarotblr #free readings #intuitive reading #spirituality #vd

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Note

fluff and/or smut request based on the prompt “My God, you're fun to kiss.”

Eddie preferred but if Steve inspires you more for this that's okay too!

ily💖

eddie munson x afab!reader. 18+.

It starts as friends.

Acquaintances, really. People who pass each other in the hall. Glances as you go, simple pleasantries, a wave if you’re lucky.

But fate steps in. And soon it’s a joint project, it’s trying to care for an egg together, to make sure it doesn’t break, gentleness foreign to both of you. It’s handing off your pretend child at the end of an afternoon—it’s joint custody over an eventual grade.

Soon, it’s gentle brushes of flesh in science class. It’s an accidental touch after almost dropping a pipette, a borrowed pencil, a shared eraser. Awkward encounters become heated glances. They become chemical interactions like the science projects you share with Eddie Munson.

Bright, vibrant, and potent.

You think it’s a joke when you’re paired in English class. Some sort of cosmic arrangement in the stars, a joke from the gods, what have you. Because of all the people you could act out Romeo and Juliet with, Eddie Munson is the last one on your list.

He’s brash and unruly. He’s disorganized and frenetic. He’s…well, he’s charismatic and alluring. Infuriating and compelling. Intriguing and impossible. Handsome and absolutely grotesque. Charming and…

Well. That’s the problem, really. The more the stars align, the more you find you like him. The more you find yourself enraptured by the boy with curly hair and a dimpled smile.

So it’s almost no surprise when you find yourself seated on a bench in the middle of spring, surrounded by dappled light and looming trees, books stretched out in front of you, practicing your lines. Only Eddie’s distracted. Has been for a bit. Since you arrived, really.

“Is there something on my face?” Your words are short. Staccato. Clipped. Brusque, without a real reason for them being so.

“Er—no.”

And that’s that. These weeks, these opportune moments—they mean nothing. Fleeting gazes, jovial banter, and brief looks? Those don’t make up a relationship. You know this. Yet it stings all the same. Sinks deep in your gut.

Or so you think.

The next time you meet in the woods, Eddie’s a live wire. Fingers tapping a pen on his notebook, brushing your cheek, curling around your jaw. He’s staring at you fondly. Like you’re the only girl in the world; like you’re his. And you would be—if he’d only asked you.

It’s on that day, as the sun sets and the sky glows orange, he leans down and kisses you the first time.

A gentle brush of his lips over yours as you sit on top of that wooden table. His knees press to the bench, your backside on the tabletop, his ringed fingers around your hips.

He kisses you like you’re precious—a jewel to be cherished, bright and twinkly, rare and his. And you find you like that; languish in it.

You get a B+ in O’Donnell’s class and the woods become your haven that next week. A place where you can run to him, your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist. Whispers of hate and love, of frustration and adoration, of ‘will they’ and ‘won’t they.’

There’s a shlick of a zipper lowering. A hiss from the boy before you as you tug him forward by his belt loops, nosing along his throat, sucking purple hickeys into supple flesh.

He’s plush lips over your breast, whispers of, “My god, you’re fun to kiss.”

And you’re pliant. Heart a flutter as he slides your skirt up your thighs, parting you for him, brushing at your slit. He teases at your flesh. One finger, swirling in your slick, mouth swallowing your pitiful moans. And then another, sliding into you. Making you whimper and moan, gasps muffled against the column of his throat.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks, brushing his mouth over your ear.

Smirks into your skin when you tremble, thighs spreading wider, welcoming the boy as he prods at your center, groans when you whimper into his chest at the brush of his fullness against your hole.

“Y-yeah, Eds.”

“What do you want, baby? Need your words.”

Another brush. A nudge. A slight pressure where you want him most, but it has your toes curling, fingers tightening around his leather jacket, gripping fast to curls, teeth clenching around his earlobe.

“Need you to fuck me,” you manage.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s smirking. Dimples and cockiness, fingers curling around his base, pressing his head against your center. Collecting your slick and pushing in slightly. Enough to have you quivering, enough to have you begging for more. “Like this?”

And he’s sliding in. Inch by blessed inch, slowly and painstakingly so, until you’re a gasping, writhing, pleading mess. Tears prick your eyes, fingers in his hair, mouth against his.

“You like me,” he rasps.

Not a question.

Not at all.

A statement. Simple, just like breathing. Just like the way he slides in and out of you—like he’s always done so, like it’s what he’s always been made to, like he’s been doing so all along.

“I do,” you gasp out, shuddering around him, curling your thighs around him, dragging him closer. You need him closer. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Go out with me.” A brush of his lips over your heart, hips rolling against yours, drawing out your pleasure.

You hate him, you like him, you might even love him.

“I will,” you whimper, pulling him tighter, burning brighter. “I will.”

And it’s one week later you walk down the halls hand in hand with Eddie Munson. Your health partner, lab partner, english partner. Stranger, acquaintance, friend.

Boyfriend.

Yours.

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader

2K notes · View notes

lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

can I request [ MISTLETOE ] for sender and receiver to find themselves under the mistletoe. with steeb and shy!reader?! maybe they’ve both been crushing for a while and so it’s all fluffy??

ty for requesting :D happy xmas angel!! — you and steve have your very first kiss under the mistletoe (shy!fem!r, new relationship, fluff, 1.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You’re pretty sure your friends are debating which Christmas song is better. You can’t be sure, though, because it all just sounds like static. Everything feels a little like static, too.

You’re sitting on Steve’s couch, but it’s more like sitting on a cloud. He’s right next to you — arm lazy around your shoulders, fitting into your side like a puzzle piece — but you can’t really feel him, either.

Steve can tell how far away you’ve gone. You haven’t said a word to him in ages. He can’t be totally sure you’ve even blinked, either. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand, one that you barely feel, to bring you back again.

You turn to him, sluggish and slow and softly smiling.

“Still good?” he wonders. His grin is barely there and slightly lopsided. His honey eyes sparkle with a subtle concern. He doesn’t know how to be anything but entirely tender with you.

You nod, though your eyes are still a little glassy.

Steve’s smile widens. His golden features drip with a fondness you don’t feel very deserving of.

He’s so close, you think he might kiss you. You can smell the hot chocolate and candy canes on his breath — a lethal concoction that makes you melt further into him. And truth be told, he wants to kiss you, but he’s terrified of being too forward.

You’re made of something delicate. Like flower petals or winter sunlight. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

Your chin jerks back a bit. The subtle meaning behind his words makes you flinch. “…What?”

His face falls in a gaping horror. “Wait— No— that’s not— That’s not what I meant,” he stammers quickly, an awkward laugh sputtering from his lips. “I was trying to ask if you wanted to get a drink before Eddie breaks out his metal version of Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer.”

His dumb joke makes you laugh. He’s grateful for it.

He walks with you towards the kitchen, guiding you with a warm hand on the small of your back. Robin gives him a not-so-subtle thumbs up when he passes her. “Real smooth,” she mouths.

He flips her off but feels a little bad about it a second later. The mistletoe hanging in front of the sink was definitely her doing — and probably his only opportunity to kiss you tonight. He’ll thank her for it later, if everything goes to plan.

You stand across the room at the fridge, pouring him a glass of eggnog like the sweet thing you are. He doesn’t know how to get you over to him without being too obvious. So he just lingers in place, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, and hopes you’ll eventually migrate towards him.

“Here you go, babe,” you murmur under your breath, not even looking his way as you sit the full glass to the side.

Steve wonders if you noticed the nickname spilling from your mouth, or if it just came out without you realizing it. It makes his chest all warm and fuzzy either way. He wants to kiss you stupid about it, but he has to get you over here first.

“Uh, can you hand it to me, please?”

You look over your shoulder at him, expecting to find him busy in some way. He isn’t, though. He’s just kinda standing there. Like he’s waiting for something.

You’re confused, but you don’t press it. You go to hand it to him without complaint. Sweet thing, indeed.

You take a few steps towards him and reach out your arm, not quite under the half-hidden mistletoe yet. Steve grimaces slightly. “Little closer?” he pleads.

With furrowed brows, you take another step closer.

“Just a little bit more—”

Your golden laugh fills the kitchen. “What are you doing? Just take it, weirdo.”

Steve beams when you’re finally beneath it. His gasp is almost cartoonish, but it makes his eyes sparkle anyway. “Ah! Look at that! We’re under the mistletoe!”

Your eyes flit to the ceiling. The artificial plant is mostly hidden, strung up between hanging pots and pans. A smile tugs at your mouth — you wonder if he planned this or if the chance just fell into his lap.

You’re grateful for it, either way.

“What a coincidence, huh?” you murmur sheepishly, stomach so full of fluttering butterflies that it aches.

“Yeah. Not planned at all,” he beams, totally honest, as he takes a small step closer.

“Not even a little bit,” you tease.

His hands settle on your waist, warm with how clammy they’ve gone. His thumbs rub gently along your ribcage, over your reindeer-patterned Christmas sweater. His chest presses intently against yours, and you wonder if he can feel your racing heartbeat.

“Totally unintentional, actually. I think the universe willed it.”

“Totally.”

“Well,” Steve lilts with a quirked mouth and twinkling eyes. “Do you wanna?”

He won’t do anything you don’t want to do. He’d never force you to do a damn thing, but fuck, if he doesn’t want you to say yes more than he’s ever wanted anything in the whole world.

His heart nearly bursts out of his chest when you nod at him with your own quiet smile.

When he leans in to kiss you, it feels like something out of a movie. There’s a swelling choir in the distance and snow falling all around you. It’s in black and white or technicolor, something so obviously old Hollywood, because only the golden age of film could capture these once-in-a-lifetime romantics.

And it’s weird, ‘cause it’s just one little peck.

His chiseled nose bumps once against the side of your own, scruffy chin scratching at your skin. His lips lock momentarily with yours with all their plush pink glory. It’s heaven — for a flash of a second — and gone way too soon.

Both of you are grinning like lovesick idiots when he pulls away.

His freshly kissed mouth opens to say something — to tell you that he’s head over heels for you or that you taste like hot cocoa, maybe — but nothing like that comes out.

Something metallic cracks in the distance, like a valuable thing broken, and all the loud voices in the living room suddenly go quiet.

“Little shits…” Steve mumbles in an annoyed sigh. His blatant irritation makes you laugh. The sound makes him smile all over again. “I should go make sure no one broke a limb or something.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

His hands squeeze gently at your sides before he goes, grieved to leave you.

He barely gets five steps away before you’re calling him back again.

“Wait! You forgot your drink.”

When he walks back towards you again — nicely settled beneath the hanging mistletoe he’d already forgotten about — you sneak another kiss in. It’s quicker than you’d like, but more languid still.

It takes his breath away all over again.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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neetily · 4 months ago

Text

Tempted — (SDV) Sebastian

— ✧ warnings: foreplay heavy, cheating, virgin reader, dubcon, manipulative sebastian, creampie, brothers best friend sebastian, praise, cunnilingus — ✧ word count: 9,457

— ✧ A/N: reposting some favs from my old account! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. You, sat trembling on his lap while his warm hands rest gently against your exposed thighs, the skirt you had decided to wear today riding up just a little as he lightly strokes his thumbs up and down against the edges of it. There’s just something so… dirty about the whole situation, y’know? Which makes it all the more exciting, his heart positively fit to burst out of his chest at the shy look you give him, the small shake of your thighs every time his thumb swipes against you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that just maybe… This is where you’ve wanted to be all along, rather than the excuse you gave upon entering his room.

“You gotta start out slow, okay?” He sighs fondly, resolved in his decision to indulge in just a little bit of fantasy before you prance out of his room and back into the hands of your boyfriend. Even just thinking the word makes him feel sick, wishing deep down that it was him instead— but you’re off limits. Always have been, probably always will be. You know, being Sam’s younger sister and all that: he’s always been forced to swallow his ever growing feelings for you in the name of the bro code. Silly fucking code in his opinion, and yet alas, he’s remained faithful to it. At least up until today, until you timidly entered his room and graced him with your presence to ask one question and one question only.

How does sex work?

It’s obvious that you couldn’t have asked your brother such an embarrassing thing, and upon further questioning it seems you were too scared to admit your virginity to your current boyfriend too. And so here he is, sitting up with his back against his bed headboard with you placed dangerously snug on his lap. He promised himself he wouldn’t let things get too far, after all, you are taken. Like, ignoring the morality of fucking your best friends sister, he also has to account for the ethics of cheating with you, of which he’d like to avoid. Besides, you’re a good girl— evident from the fact that you’re still a virgin, so he can’t imagine you’d be up for more than just a few tips. Even if his cock stirs awake in an effort to convince him otherwise, exhaling a shaky breath before you to try and calm himself down enough to remain level headed about things. That skirt is so cute though, and the way you’re sitting has the backside of it flipped up, meaning that your ass is currently sitting directly against his—

“A-And, don’t let him pressure you into anything you don’t want, ‘kay? If he knows what he’s got, he’ll take it slow with you. But don’t be afraid to say stop.” His voice is low, almost whispered as a distraction against the demure eyes you look at him with. It doesn’t help that you’re so soft under his touch, your inexperience showing clearly from the way you don’t seem to know what to do with your hands, the slight squeeze of your thighs against his own as you effectively straddle his lap. He has to fight with himself not to lean further back against his bed and fuck his hips right up into your clothed cunt, swallowing thickly instead to remain on track. Right. Helping. “Start slow, yeah? You gotta build some tension, make him really want it, okay?” He smiles softly, waiting for you to nod down at him. “Watch, I’ll show you what I mean.”

It’s a selfish action, his words hiding behind faux innocence of just wanting to help, and yet still he allows his hands to wander. Just helping, he’s just answering your question, he tries to convince himself, ignoring the obvious nagging at the back of his mind over just how long he’s waited for this exact situation. Just. Helping. Starting with slow movements up and down the length of your thighs, both hands leaving a finger trail of goosebumps on your skin as you shake on his lap. Has to bite his lip in response to how responsive you are, watching your reactions through hooded lids. You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty as you avoid his gaze, letting your head hang just a little low while he stares you down, tickling his way up to the border of your skirt before placing both hands on your equally as exposed arms. You jump in response to the sudden change, but he hushes you softly. “Just relax into it, yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” He coaxes, still smiling casually, as if this were a normal thing for friends to do. Because first and foremost, you are his friend, and he’d hate to ruin things with you because of his barely contained lust. Focusing on running his palms over your shoulders instead of his thoughts, begging to turn his brain off and to just enjoy this moment with you, circling his hands over your skin, up and down your arms with intent on warming you up. Your breaths come out in gasped trembles and it’s how he knows he’s doing a good job, smirking more now at how receptive you’re being. “See? Just a little petting and it already feels good, right?” His cock certainly agrees, twitching at the meek nod you offer in return. He really didn’t need your confirmation, the state of you noticeable from the deep blush you wear all the way to how your hands have finally found home on his chest. The feeling of which causes his back to straighten up more, inadvertently pushing himself further into your touch, not that he thinks you’ve noticed thanks to his wandering hands. And how could you, since it seems this is your first time being touched at all, his fingers creeping under the sleeve of your shirt to thumb at your bra step, digging under it gently just to hear you choke on a gasp. Oh, and you sound so pretty too… Much better than how he’s always dreamed of. He’d like to hear more.

Plus, he thinks you’d like to give more seeing as how you pout down at his feather light touches, the cute look you wear drawing a low laugh from him. “What is it, sweetheart?” He affectionately calls to you, letting one of his hands drop to your hip while the other tilts your chin up, the sight of your cute furrowed brows causing him to sharply inhale air through his otherwise gritted teeth. He’s playing a dangerous game here, he knows, but with a gulp of confidence and a quirk of his brow he continues the private lesson. Just giving you some assistance for your boyfriend, just helping you learn how to act when the time comes.

He’s patient to wait for you to reply, but it seems you aren’t even aware of what it is you’re seeking. It’s cute just how needy you are regardless, fidgeting around on his lap in a quest for what he can only assume is more, but your virgin brain struggles to find the correct words for it. It’s all right, he knows how to help, looking over you once to double check that you still want to continue the lesson. Cautiously, the hand under your chin dips to poke lightly at your neck, right at the thin skin under your ear. “Y’see right here? It’s sensitive. I’m sure your boyfriend would like it if you kiss here.” He whispers, naturally allowing his head to follow his touch as he ducks down to press the smallest of kisses there— completely intending on leaving it at that, but the sweet sound you make in response convinces him to continue. He swallows a deep groan of his own before planting a few more faint kisses down your neck, doing his best to savor your taste when you inevitably have to leave his hold once the lesson is over. It’s not entirely self indulgent, anyone (including your boyfriend) would enjoy such soft and tender touches, and really when he thinks about it— that’s what he’s here to teach you. Though he can scarcely deny the butterflies that fill his lungs as you tilt your neck for more kissable surface area. Blessed with the small squeaks and sighs you let out, your sheer unfamiliarity with the situation stroking his ego so well as he grows more confident in his actions. Slowly rubbing soothing circles against your hip while he lines your neck with kisses, traveling his way across your jaw until he almost makes it to your lips. Though here, he stops. Allows a knowing smirk to tug at his lips at the way you shudder from feeling his breath ghost over your face before laughing a little breathlessly. Not at you, but rather one filled with love and awe. You’re so cute, it’s impossible to control his cock brained actions.

“Your turn.”

Not that he expected much else from you, but the soft shy reaction you give at his two words still sends a chill down his spine and a throb in his cock as he watches your eyes narrow, feeling the weight of your determination as you almost immediately start to mimic his actions by placing your curious hands against his bare arms. It’s a gentle action, one that proves endearing enough through how new you are at it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He’s honestly a little surprised at how self-assured you are to be able to dive right in, but you won’t find him complaining. Shivering into the light playful rubbing you do up and down his forearms, letting his head lean back a little once you reach up to his biceps. “That’s it, just like that.” He quietly encourages you, letting you explore his body on your own terms without providing much more guidance. It’s more fun to learn hands on anyway, isn’t it? And you’re doing such a good job, too. For a virgin, anyway, but because it’s you he feels you carry this certain charm with you. Your actions send a pleasurable chill down his spine.

“Is this okay?” You suddenly speak, and he’s a little taken aback from how winded you sound from just a little foreplay. Oh, he can’t rightly leave you in the incapable hands of your boyfriend now, can he? He doesn’t trust him to look after you properly, to take his time with you like how he is right now. His mind clouded with you and your touch, ignoring the annoying reminder that you’re off limits— for now, at least.

“Mhm.” He nods, wanting to reassure you as much as possible so that you don’t stop touching him, his body hot with the thought of you feeling his hard cock beneath you. Been hard since you popped the question, if he’s honest. “Jus’ keep going. Remember what I taught you.” He hopes his words are convincing enough, allowing you a moments breather before tapping your thigh for attention. “You can do it. Felt nice, promise.”

And with that encouragement you start once more, letting your fingers linger on his arm before giving him a bashful look. He’s just about to ask you whats wrong but you cut him off completely as you promptly lean down, the feeling of your wet lips attaching to his neck causing him to bite down on his lip to swallow a moan. Thankful that your face is hidden so that you can’t see the way his eyes roll back at such a minor thing, though his hands unfortunately give him away as he accidentally squeezes your hips a little too hard as a way to calm himself down. It’s embarrassing for him to admit, but you truly have him feeling like a virgin again. The way his body reacts to you so easily, slipping down the bed just a little to subconsciously get closer. A small reward for your efforts, wanting to show you just how much you affect him by letting his sneaky hands play with the waistband of your skirt. A small ping here, a gentle tug there, all while you adorn his neck with increasingly confident kisses— just as he did to you. He makes a mental note that you’re a quick learner, a loving smile plastered on his face by the time you manage to kiss along his jaw, his cheeks warm at the sight of your fluttering lashes before him. Here, you also stop. Faces mere inches from each other as you pant against him. Not that he’s doing much better, mind you. His own lungs struggle to keep up with how his night has turned, squeezing once more at your hips as thanks. “Exactly.” He hums, all soft and low so as to not frighten you. “Don’t worry, we’re not actually doing anything…” He trails off upon seeing your wandering eyes, watching closely as they travel down to his lips and then back to his eyes, noticing how your lips part slightly at the minimal amount of petting you’ve endured thus far. And he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more with his words, your pretty face or his cock— so rock hard just from your close proximity to him. But he leans forward anyway, lets his lips meet yours in just the softest kiss ever, and one he’s overjoyed to feel you immediately reciprocate. “Just practicing.” He whispers against your lips, smiling into the forbidden kiss before he has to pull away lest his tongue slips down your throat in horny eagerness.

He pulls back, takes in the sight of you looking so needy. The harsh heave of your chest, the pink of your cheeks and his saliva coating your lips. Must be your first kiss, huh? Ah, he laughs internally. You sure are a sight to see, and his crush is in full effect as you await further instructions after your stolen first. Your cautious hands taking root in his shirt, fisting it into a tight hold as if you were struggling to keep yourself steady— and all of that from just a small kiss. You’ve got to know just how intoxicating you are, right? How he’s beyond love drunk, smiling down at you with this dumb expression he can only put down to infatuation. “See, doesn’t that feel nice?” He coughs, trying to distract himself from the lewd look you stare back at him with, an attempt to hold onto the last shred of responsibility he has left. “Make sure you go slow with him before moving on to anything else.”

“What’s next?” You quickly ask as soon as he’s done speaking, and he swears you know just what your innocence is doing to him. Though that much is immediately known false, his cock can’t seem to agree. Straining hard against his gray sweats with greedy insistence, begging for you despite the fact that you’re off limits. “What about this?” You ask shyly, dropping your gaze to the fat bulge in his pants.

Well, a little more tutoring wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Especially since you’re asking for it.

“Hm…” He pretends to think, casting his gaze to the side in faux thought while you eagerly tug at his shirt. There’s so much he wants to do with you, filtering through all of his nasty late night fantasies before settling on a tame enough one for your experience difference. He can’t go too far, remember. “Wanna know how to really get your boyfriend going?” He cocks his head to the side to question you, sighing deeply to restrain himself when you reply that yes, you’d like to.

He’s kind enough to at least guide your hand, helping you hop off his lap momentarily to let you sit between his legs now. “Here.” He holds your hand gently, dragging it closer and closer to his cock until you can feel the heat of his arousal directly under your palm. A soft curse escapes his lips, a strained fuck as he feels your fingers twitch against him, the smallest gasp exiting your own lungs as his cock jerks in return. The corruption he’s putting you through only fueling his lust, feeling it pool in the pit of his stomach when you go wide eyed staring at the way his cock trembles for you. How long has he been waiting for this, for you to hold his perverted cock in your tiny hands? Too long, it seems, for the moment you eventually do wrap your hand around it he can’t seem to help but let a growled moan sound. He knows he’s going too far, but he’s wholly incapable of slowing down. Who would, when their dreams are coming true right before their very eyes? Surely your boyfriend wouldn’t blame him for that, right?

“Sebastian?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s only natural, yeah? Of course I’d get hard, we aren’t gonna actually do anything. Promise. Just— Just bend down for me a little, okay?”

You seem confused at his instructions, and so he tries again. Applying a little pressure to the nape of your neck so that your head lowers, helping you situate your mouth right above his cock while your hand instinctively squeezes around the fat of his length. Oh, you’re such a good learner, aren’t you?

“Like this, okay? There you go.” He smiles wide, laughing lightheartedly at the strain in his voice. He’s got it so bad for you, and it seems you’ve got no idea. Expectantly looking up at him as you stay seated in the position he so kindly manhandled you into. Doggy style, though with your face almost pressed right against his leaking cock. Fuck, shit— maybe this was a bad idea after all, a fat bead of precum dribbling from his tip just from looking at you in such a lewd position. “Fuck— okay, just— Stick your tongue out.” He all but begs, quickly flustering to correct himself with: “Just pretend, remember? Practice.” He inhales sharply when you immediately follow suit, tongue out and pressed against his fat cock just like that. It’s all too easy for him, there’s no way he can hide a moan, looking down at you with such need that he’s sure even your virgin ass could pick up on it, though you’re quick to correct him when you don’t do much more than what he’s asked.

And while he loves the sight of your tongue flat against his hard and hot cock, he’s sure your boyfriend would want more. And by boyfriend, he means himself. “Lick it.” He gasps. And when you send him a questioning expression in return he sighs. “Just trust me, lick it. He’d love that—” his lies are cut off by your followed instructions, the feeling of your tongue gliding up and down over his still clothed cock causing his hips to buck up, voice caught in his throat. He’d apologize if he meant it, but God he doesn’t, not when you look so pretty like this. All eager to please and avoiding his gaze, the small wet spot from his leaking precum soon swallowed up by your cute tongue and leaving his front soaked in your saliva as you busy yourself with following his help until he says otherwise. You’re almost hypnotizing to him, his thumb coming down to stroke kindly at your cheek for your efforts. “Yeah, fuck, he’d like that a lot— I think.” He swallows thickly, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he watches you tongue at his hard on, the dirty nature of getting off without direct content to his cock causing his tummy to tighten. And he’s so desperate too, fuck, has been ever since he can remember. Can’t quite believe his luck knowing now that you’re still a virgin, happily accepting your clumsy experience with open arms. He deserves to be your first, doesn’t he? Been waiting long enough anyway, and as he buries a hand in your hair to help guide your mouth up and down his cock more to his liking he grows more convinced that you are his for the taking. Why else would you allow him to touch you like this? Be your first cock sucked, yeah? Even if it’s only over clothes, he has to take things slow with you. Has to, even if he doesn’t want to. Thing is, his resolve has never been the strongest with you. And his moral compass ever gray. So it’s no surprise that when you decide to look right up at him while licking him through his sweats he chokes. His eyes rolling back into his skull unashamedly while his grip tightens in your hair, fisting at the strands for some sort of stability in the face of your obscene purity. “Mhm—” his tone is almost smug, pouting back down at you as you flick your tongue directly over his sensitive tip. “God— Your— Your boyfriend is so lucky—” He laughs, releasing your hair to instead pet the crown of your head, cooing sweetly when you beam at the praise. Anyone would be lucky to have you it’s true, it just so happens that he’s decided you’re his now. “Sure this is your first time?” He teases, smirking wide at your sudden stop to defend yourself. You’re so easy, though he’s really got no leg to stand on with how hard his cock throbs for you too.

“It is! C’mon, you said you wouldn’t make fun of me…” You huff, pulling off of him and sitting up straight to reprimand him properly. Even like this, he thinks you’re cute. Even when whining he wants to fuck you senseless. Even when you’re clearly embarrassed and acting all shy he thinks you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s fucking desperate.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it baby.” He tuts, leaning over to caress your exposed skin some more now that you’re off him. “Besides. I was being honest. You’re really good at it. I really liked it…” He whispers his last words, hoping you don’t hear him before coughing to further obscure his true intentions. “Your boyfriend will really appreciate all your practice, I mean.”

His words seem to sate you for now, though he’s not quite done with you yet, placing both hands on your hips to drag you closer to him while keeping you sat neatly between his legs. “I can show you something else, if you want?” This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea, but he can’t seem to help himself when you look so wanting before him.

You’re all too keen to nod too, happy with the praise he’s offered you thus far as you plead with your eyes for a little more help.

And he’s only too happy to give.

He’s cautious to remain calming, doing his utmost to care gently for your naive attitude. Because while you are such a good learner, he can still pick up on the slight hesitance on your face. The leftover worries regarding such a new experience— and he’d hate to ruin all that he’s built up tonight. Would never forgive himself if you walked out of his room worse for wear than when you came in, and so he’s soft with it as he taps on your shoulder. “Lay back, trust me.” Tenderly murmuring instructions so as to not overwhelm you too much. Even if his cock is practically ready to burst just from watching you do just that: lay back. The sight of you under him is one he’s only ever fucked his fist imagining, and so now that you’re actually on your back for him like this it takes him a second or two to catch up to reality. His vision hazy and his cock twitching, pointed directly at you and easily seen through to egregious wet patch you’ve not only left yourself but also drawn out from his dribbling tip. More than anything, he’s thankful you decided to wear a skirt today. It makes this private lesson a whole lot easier as he situates himself to hover above you, his pesky pervert hands finding their way to your inner thigh to pinch and hold while the other stabilizes himself by planting down on the bed next to your hip.

“Like this?” You seek his reassurance, and he sucks on his teeth from how small you not only look but also sound.

“Uh-huh, just like that baby.” His hand rubs your thigh up and down, his eyes unfocused and attempting to take in the whole view of you so submissive for him but he’s struggling. Never in his life did he think he’d actually pin you down like this. Fuck. The taboo nature of touching your best friends little sister gets to his head, his heart racing as he inches his fingers up, up, further until he reaches the hem of your hidden panties. His cock throbs at the little gasp you let out when he does so, knowing full well that you’ve no idea why you’re making those sounds and only that it feels right to make them. Exactly, he thinks to himself. If it feels so right, then surely it can’t be that wrong to help you so candidly. It’s all he need to tell himself anyway as he swallows thickly to instruct you some more, bunching up his bedsheets in a fist for some semblance of control. “So pretty like this baby. If you just lay back like this for your boyfriend then— Oh.” His fingers graze against your panties, thumb pressing gently against the wet patch over your hole as he seeks to please you instinctively. For a moment, it feels like he can’t breathe. All time stopped as he watches your reaction intently, more precum leaking from his tip when you scrunch up your face in interest. Has to stall himself abruptly and momentarily else he’s liable to just shove his cock in right there and then, face flushed and fingers twitchy. He wants to makes you feel so good that you forget all about your boyfriend, internally telling himself that to do just that, he has to remain patient. “He should— If he’s a good boyfriend then he should take his time with you, okay? I’ll show you what I mean.”

You tense up a little as he shuffles closer, bending down to mimic the position he had you in earlier. Both hands come under your ass to lift you up, meeting his face half way before you scurry to pull your skirt down over yourself. “S-Sebastian, wait—!” You panic, and his heart stutters at how cute you sound all confused.

“It’s okay, shh.” He coos at you, nevertheless not stopping despite your hesitance. “We’re not gonna do anything. Jus’ wanna show you what your boyfriend should be doing. So you know what to expect, remember?” He lies through his teeth, fully intending on doing that which he’s just promised not to. It’s just— he can treat you so much better, y’know? Has to take this chance while he’s got you literally in the palm of his hands, squeezing at your ass just to hear you gasp some more. There isn’t a prettier sound in the world if you asked him than you needy embarrassed whines while his breath fans over your thighs, his nose nudging knowingly at your skirt until he flips it up with his face in one swift motion— his hands too busy cupping your ass cheeks to do the job themselves. Besides, the squeak you let out at his flirty advance is more than worth it with how hard his cock jerks to fuck another one out of you. “You gotta make sure he does this with you. Otherwise, he’s not worth it sweetheart.” He confidently asserts, peeking out from between your thighs just to watch your eyes widen in surprise. Sure, you’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but thats why he’s doing this. To show you exactly what he means, wolf whistling once his eyes cast back down towards your plain panties. Even here looks pure, so innocent are your white panties that he can barely stand the sight of them. Not as a turn off, but because he adores them, loves you so much that even this small symbol of your innocence is enough to rile him up. Who was he kidding, there’s no way he was ever going to be able to last the moment you walked into his room. No chance in hell at keeping himself composed as you sit there obediently, his fingers itching to stretch you out properly already. But they’re too occupied absentmindedly squeezing your ass, keeping him calm and collected enough to at least still communicate his desires with you, his sweatpants growing insufferably tight with how hard his cock aches for you. Not a single thought given to the ethics of touching your best friends taken little sister any more now that he’s face to face with your virgin cunt. Unable to stop himself from sniffing at it like a dog, his cock drooling to the humiliated whines you let out. “Fuck—” he quickly shoves out his mouth, shuddering from your mere scent alone. While you may not know it personally, your body sure seems to want him.

And so he gives in to you once again, repeating the previous actions he had you endure by letting his tongue lay flat against your wet spot and sucking hard. Far harder than you deserve for your first time, but he can’t stop himself. Just one little taste through your wet little panties alone and he’s hooked, grabbing at the fat of your ass with much more urgency as he immediately flattens his tongue in an attempt to swallow you whole, running it up and down your hidden slit before placing a greedy kiss right over where your clit is. It's stupid how erotic things feel despite still remaining fully clothed, his cock harder than it’s ever been just from lapping away at your panties, huffing harshly at the primitive urge he feels to put you in your place. “Taste so good, yeah?” He pants, too deep into his delusions now as your cunt rests against his face to keep up the facade of just helping. “Jus’ a little more, okay? Jus’ need to— need t’move these.” He whispers against your underwear, his breath doing little to cool you down with the heated kisses he presses against you in between his gasped words. And he doesn’t even wait for your consent, dropping you down with an urgency that he’ll apologize for later before peeling your sticky panties off your cunt and down your legs, the shocked whine you let you and the immediate closing of your legs causing a growl to rise to his lips. He’s quick to move though, digging his fingers into your thighs to pry them open again and humming deeply at the sight that greets him. A wet and ready cunt. “Pretty.” He seethes, jaw tight and tummy tense with just how much he wants you, how eager he is to prove his worth to you. That, and the fact that you have the cutest little cunt he’s ever seen, salivating over you as you attempt to hide those adorable expressions he so badly wants to enjoy. It’s fine, he’ll see them soon enough, smiling away to himself when he lets go of your legs and you keep them open. Such a good girl, aren’t you? And for your first time too! He’s so proud of you, making sure you know just how much by trailing soft kisses down your open thigh. Murmuring sweet nothings on his way down to his goal, a trail of saliva in his wake until he once against meets your cunt with a grunt.

Not much else is said for a few long seconds, his own words lost on him at just how good your cunt smells, too focused on making sure he doesn’t bust a load before he has a chance to satisfy you to adequately voice his love for you, and he assumes you’re quiet out of sheer anticipation for what he’s about to do next. You’ve no idea, and that excites him to no end. Has his cock all twitchy, one of his hands lowering to palm over the too sensitive tip to release some of the built up tensions he holds for you. He’s got no time to tend to himself fully though, merely content to just palming at his cock while his free hand spreads your pussy lips apart. To any normal person, maybe even including your boyfriend, they might get embarrassed if they were acting as fraught with need as he is right now— but it’s hard to care about such things when his tongue rolls up your slit, openly drooling down it with a shuddered moan exhaled right against your puffy clit. Virgin cunt tastes so good, and he lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself by lowering his head to make out with your hole. All messy and sloppy, he simply can’t afford to act any other way with you right now. Not when you make just the prettiest little whimpers, his efforts doubling the moment he feels your hand fist at his hair for stability. So good, such a good baby, doing exactly what he wants without prompting— this is why you should be with him and not your lame ass boyfriend. Look at how much you squirm on his tongue, the way your legs shake as he fucks it in and out of your untouched little hole, squeezing his cock hard at the thought of adding that to the list of firsts he’s taking from you. Getting off himself from getting you off, adding in the pressure of his thumb to your clit as he laps up everything your hole offers him, his head spinning with the sounds of your enjoyment while you claw at his scalp for any sort of purchase— but it’s no use. Hearing you cry out for him to stop, hold on a second! And feels funny, Seb—! only encourages him to keep going, the wisdom of previous sexual encounters he has over you looming between your legs as he sucks at your slick faster, incentivised to stroke the whole length of his cock over his (for all intents and purposes, see through) sweatpants when your legs clamp down over his head. Best earmuffs he’s ever worn, honestly. Though he can still hear the loud sob of his name loud and clear falling from your pretty lips as you very quickly, and easily, cum on his tongue. Not that he’d expected much else from a virgin, but still the speed at which you moan for him strokes his ego about as well as he imagines your cunt will in a minute, your back arching so nicely off his sheets as you ride his face to completion. He only comes up for air once he’s absolutely sure he’s drank every last drop of cum you offer him, and also because you start to push him away from overstimulation. You can’t rightly blame him for wanting to remain tongue pressed between your sticky thighs, you taste so fucking good, and now that he’s had that taste— he’s never gonna let you go. Big brother Sam and your boyfriend be dammed, he’ll brand your insides as his by the end of the night.

He’s gasping as he comes up, suddenly aware of his frenzied state as he has a chance to look you up and down. But oh, what a mistake that is. Your messy hair, body all blushed and shaking, a mess of fluids painting your legs pretty. He could cum right there and then if he’d allow himself too, stopping the shameful inevitable with a rough fist firmly choking the base of his cock. Something within him snaps when you reach out for him, all teary eyed and practically begging for more with the cute pout you wear. It’s enough to have him crawling up you, tugging his sweats down just enough to have his cock hang out before placing both hands at either side of your head. It’s difficult to focus on the task at hand rather than his selfish objectives when you offer yourself up on a silver platter like this, but he does his best anyway. “Make sure he makes you cum first, just like that, okay? He has to get you prepped enough for— Ah, fuck.” His exposed cock grazes against your slippery cunt and disrupts his teaching, instantly his hips buck into the warm heat and slip up to knock against your clit. And upon hearing your muted moan he reflexively repeats the action, humping his precum up your slit with infuriating precision. Can’t quite believe how close he is already, having to mentally remind himself to slow down, all the way until he’s eventually strong enough to stop. Difficult as it is, he still cares about you enough to give you a small breather before taking what was always his. “Oh, you feel so good. Just… Just the tip won’t hurt, okay? Only the tip, I promise.” He hushes your high pitched whines, tenderly brushing his open palm against your shaking shoulder for reassurance. “Promise, baby. It’s not cheating if it’s just the tip, okay? Just so you can see how it feels.” He hides behind a smile while whispering falsehoods down your ear, almost completely bent over you and pressing you further into the mattress below with no intention on keeping his word. Not that you realize, of course. A weak little nod as consent and he’s pouncing on you.

Sure he can’t just thrust it into you, but fuck if he doesn’t want to more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. Wanting to go the same speed he usually fucks his fist to when thinking about his best friends little sister, all those festivals and band sessions you were present at while he was too busy petting his pervert cock— he wants to shove it into you so bad. But he’s nicer than that, or perhaps more cunning is the right word. If he’s slow with it now, letting his fat cock catch on gently to your dripping hole and stroking himself against it slowly, making sure you’re comfortable and happy enough for him to continue by rubbing smooth circles against your hips and praising you from his higher position, then maybe you’ll see just how much of a better option he is. “Look at you.” He mocks, though it’s said only with adoration, as if he can’t quite believe just how naughty you manage to look while taking cock for the first time. Your enjoyment apparent as he jerks off against you by your open mouthed mewls, your unfocused eyes attempting to beg for more from him, and he’ll give you it. Don’t worry, he doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to— and he certainly doesn’t want to do that. “You want it? Oh, your body wants it so bad— Can you feel that? Hear how wet you are? Ah, promise. Promise just the tip, okay? It’s only fair. It’s only fair since I made you cum first, kay?” He laughs lovingly, giving you only a second more to catch up to the situation before gently, far too gently for his tastes, pushing his tip further into you. A collective sigh shared upon his intrusion, his heart beating so hard in overwhelming pleasure from how tight your virgin hole is. So warm and wet, welcoming his leaking tip so well after he tongue fucked one orgasm out of you already. Still, he notices the pain wash over your face, his head lowering to meet your level with a hushed tone. “Oh, baby... I know it hurts, I know.” He sucks on his teeth, trying to bear himself to how snug this fit is, stretching your never fucked before cunt out with his fat cock, thankful for the copious amounts of precum he’s dribbling inside of you mixing with the slick you gush out each time he shifts a little closer, pushes his cock more in the smallest amount. He’d never want to hurt you, but he knows that if you put up with him for just a bit longer, he’ll have you crying from pleasure instead. Softly wiping your tear stained cheeks with another muted whisper. “It's all right, just breathe for me. It’ll real feel good real soon, and then— Fuck, and then what you gotta do to impress your boyfriend is— is wrap your legs around my back, yeah? C’mon, look at me.” He ends up begging, his brows knitted and thighs shaking as he takes you for the very first time. Patiently waiting for your eyes to open and rest on his, a small smile breaking out on his face when you finally manage it. “There ya go. Pretty girl…” He pauses, allowing you a moment to just breathe with his cock tip sitting nicely inside your cunt. And then: “My pretty girl.” As soon as you follow through with his instructions, keeping him pressed against you missionary style with your legs locked around him. He wishes he had taken the time to undress you, to love on your whole body as well as showcase his own, because he knows you’d love the skin on skin contact— but he’s not got the time nor the patience to go through that process right now. The heart wants what his cock needs, and right now that means being buried so deep in your cunt immediately so that all you can feel is him.

He moves without warning. Not that it was his intention, but the pitiful whine you let out at his words causes his cock to take control. A small hump, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of him with how ruined you sound immediately following. A matched cry from the way he splits you in two, despite his minimal movements, he knows this must be scary for you. “Just a bit more, okay? Promise, only a little more. You’re so close to taking it all, yeah?” He misleads you, his cock throbbing at the mere mention of fucking more into your poor little cunt. But still, you nod up at him. Even through babbles of pain and shaky breaths of uncertainty you trust him enough to keep going, and it proves fatal to his self control. Restraint forgotten about the moment you whisper his name. A soft, broken sound spilling from such pretty lips. There’s no way, no fucking way, he could hold back after that. And he’ll apologize to you later for his rashness, sure, but in this moment he’s absolutely powerless to stopping his hips from bucking into you. Pushing the rest of his cock into your warm hole until his balls finally rest against your ass, your skirt bunched up in your own small hands for some sort of comfort, but fuck it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The oppositional sight of his cock stuffed fully inside your tight little cunt and the innocent action of tugging on your skirt goes straight to his balls, all tight and taut and want to mark you from the inside out— but he stalls. Lets his cock rest inside of you for now, taken to doting on you from above to distract himself enough to not cum already.

“That’s it— Look!” He breaks into a kind laugh. “You took it all in. Took me all in, yeah? Told ya, a natural. Fuck, you feel so good—” His cock throbs some more, thick beads of precum spilling out inside for your comfort, his eyes briefly rolling back from the way your walls choke his length at his words. “Promise to make you feel good too, okay? Show you how your boyfriend should be doing it.” He continues to lie, bending down to press a barely there kiss to your sweaty forehead only to pull back up. He wants to watch you fall apart. Needs to see the moment you realize that after all this time, he’s been right here, waiting, patiently, for you to realize his presence. That he could be everything you could ever want for and more. Gradually drawing his hips back and his cock with him, choking at the sight of your silent moan from the feeling, and then calmly pushing back in. The confused stare you regard him with makes him dizzy, working on autopilot as his hands come down to hold on to the back of your knees and gently pushes them down while he starts a lazy pace into you, biting down on his lip from his front row seating as your expression slowly turns into one of pleasure with the slow in and out he forces you to endure. He feels as though he’s melting into you, the stupidly lewd squelch of his cock steadily fucking into your hole, the wet pap! of his balls every time he fully sheathes inside of you, God, he’s so fucking in love. Simply mesmerized to the sight of you taking cock so well, and for your first time too! And the sweet sounds you make every time he forces his way back inside, molding your insides to the shape of his cock— he never wants to hear anything else again. Cursing lowly to himself at the realization of just how badly he wants— no, he needs you to be his. “Feelin’ good, pretty?” He asks you, a cocky smirk spreading on his lips when you mumble a subdued yes. “Told ya— Ah, told ya it’d feel good.”

This is just the start though, his hips experimentally fucking just that little bit faster into you to satisfy his forever urges, though your reaction is instantaneous. A quick breathy intake of air as you attempt to pull your skirt closer to your face, inadvertently flashing him more of your body despite your want to hide. Cute soft tummy that one of his hands immediately presses into, forcing a laugh out of his struggling lungs at your adorable display. And then it fully hits him. He’s fucking his best friends little sister, finally, after all those years— His pace snapping into a more brutal one at the thought, far too quick for your first time and only made more evident from the surprised wail you let you as he begins fucking into you like you deserve. Short snappy thrusts into your tight cunt, a resounding smack of his balls hitting against you filling the space left between his grunts and your moans, harsh huffs for air fanning over you as he adds a little more pressure to your spread legs. “O-Oh my God.” He manages to stutter out, unable to take his eyes off you as they flit between your puffy cunt and your pretty fucked out expression. He’s practically drooling over your reactions. “Jus’ for practice. It’s just practice—” he reassures you, filling your hole up so full, much fuller than you’ve ever experienced before with his quick fucks. Fucking so fast that his head goes empty, a babbled “Good girl, good girl—” over and over again down at you at the feeling of your walls squeezing him, your soft little mewls turning more high pitched and cracked with each eager drag of his cock. Can’t help but dig his fingers into your thighs, his head hanging low while he sits up a little off the back of his heels to fuck into you at a deeper angle. It’s obviously too much for you, the seemingly tell-tale shake in your legs letting him know that you’re close again, and he can’t fucking stop himself. “You gave me your virginity. You gave it to me.” He growls, a playful lilt to his tone at the embarrassment present on your face, the way you pull him closer at his dirty words like just hearing them was shameful, though he easily gives you the contact you’re seeking until his chest is pushed right against your own and his mouth latches on to your neck to suck just a little. A small reminder of your lesson, if you will.

“You gonna remember everything that I’ve taught you?” He whispers down your ear, and he’s sure you can hear the smirk through his voice with how tight you clench around his speedy thrusts. Running his mouth more than he’d like just simply because your cunt feels that good, has him in a choke hold. “Maybe you don’t need him. Maybe you should just be with me instead, huh? Mhm. I think you should just be my girl.” His confession emphasized with slower but deeper thrusts into you. Really taking his time to fuck his full length into you, breathing deeply to continue his long awaited admission by way of letting his lips connect with your own. A messy kiss, more tongue than anything as he shoves it down your throat to drip saliva for you to drink up, openly moaning into your mouth just as much as he swallows your own for himself. It feels too good, your little virgin cunt sucking him off better than anyone else has, persuading himself that this must mean that you’re his, right? “Only do this with me, okay?” He whispers in between sloppy sucks of your tongue. “If it feels so good with me, why would you wanna do it with anyone else? You should just be mine instead.” He all but groans, his tone throaty and dry despite the clumsy kisses, voice fucked out of him by how well your cunt takes him. And it’s clear you aren’t doing much better, able only to nod back at him with a cute dumb look on your face, his mind reeling with sadistic want to fuck it off of you. Grinding his fat cock into you with his hips flush against your ass, his rough thumb coming down to swipe over your abused clit only for a few seconds before he can feel you cream his cock. And fuck if it isn’t the best feeling he’s ever experienced, mind completely blank with the show you put on for him. One of his hands remains on your knee, pushing it down further so he has a better view of your cunt convulsing around his cock, his tip dribbling so much for you at the feeling of your slick trickling out at every small hump he offers you. It feels better than he could have ever imagined, your cute cunt already promising to ruin his every future experience unless it’s with you, and so he lets your ride your orgasm out with the addition of light flicks to your clit. A gentle push of his cock as he rests flush against you, at least until you’ve finally stopped shaking so much and your breathing is more stabilized from your first fucked orgasm.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He praises you, a sneaky smile on his lips as he once again returns his hand to your other knee, pushing your legs down as far as you’ll allow him while he completely rises off his heels now. His stance looming over you as he tenderly gazes at your barely open eyes, the dopey smile you wear telling him all he needs to know as he pulls his hips back hopefully for the last time tonight— and then fucks back into you as hard as he can. Practically bouncing you up his sheets from how powerful his thrusts are, his words gasped and trembling from the amount of weight he throws behind each thrust. Not that he hears you complaining, instead a stream of broken moans and half started cries of his name spill from your lips. Pretty. “Want me to cum inside? It’s only fair. I’m gonna be all your firsts.” He utters, voice all strained and forced as if it pains him to talk right now. And it does, your cunt wrapped so nice and tight around his cock that it’s difficult to make any sound besides moans, so warm and wet with your two orgasm that it’s a struggle to even think anything coherent. Though it doesn’t take him long to give you what you want seeing as he’s been hard practically since you showed up in his room in that cute outfit. At the very least he’s happy to have made you cum twice, and for truly being your every first. First kiss, first oral, first orgasm, first fuck. And now, your first creampie. Your name falling from his lips in a hushed gasp almost as quickly as you plead for him to finish inside, all breathy and barely there from how powerful his orgasm is when spilling his seed deep into your tiny cunt. His best friends sister, tainting you forever with his cum as he continues to fuck himself into your tight hole, fucking his cum deeper against your womb in a primal effort to mark your insides. The grip he has of your thighs tightens as he milks himself inside of you, nails digging into your skin with a soft apology, barely conscious of what it is he’s doing until it’s already done. And even as he’s running empty and satisfied with how stuffed you are, even then his hips won’t stop, continuing to stroke himself lazily into your overfilled with cum cunt until you whine for him to stop. “Sorry— fuck, I’m sorry—” he uselessly rambles, wincing as he pulls out of you only to stare down at your used hole. Shocked at the amount of cum that spills out of you, looking up at you apologetically until you smile wide back at him.

“Thanks, Seb.” You whisper, all cute and silly. It causes him to mirror your grin regardless though, tucking his spent cock away and shuffling to lay beside you rather than forcing your surely exhausted body into any further movement. You’re so attractive all the time, it’s no wonder he was unable to treat you any differently tonight.

“My pleasure.” He hums, laying an arm over your tummy and resting his chin atop your head. He’s so happy. So completely overjoyed with being able to be your first everything and managing to confess his love for you in one go. It’s a little dizzying if he’s honest, but he can’t help but be hopeful at the way you snuggle back in against him, turning to your side to nuzzle your face against his chest. Even the sound of your deep breathes is alluring to him, so obsessed with all that you are that he pulls you even closer, his softening cock slowly but surely growing harder at your soft affections. “I was being serious, you know.” He suddenly says, though there’s a hint of hesitance in his voice.

“About what?” You sleepily yawn, taking hold of his shirt once more. A comfort thing, he’s sure, but he’s still so in love with the feeling that it coaxes the words right out of his mouth.

“About you… Being with me. I’d like that. Makes sense, too. Since y’know…”

You don’t say anything back, and he thinks that’s fine. A lot has happened tonight, and he’s willing to wait for your eventual answer. Though he worries he’s maybe ruined the mood just a little with his heartfelt emotions, and so he flusters to fix the apparent issue with a breathless laugh. “Just… Y’can’t tell Sam, okay?”

“Promise.” You reply, and given the amount of promises he’s told you tonight, he’s not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. Swallowing the mounting fear of Sam finding out he’s messed with his beloved baby sister by kissing the top of your head a few times. Though he did thoroughly enjoy fucking you for the first time, he’d like to share more soft moment like these with you too. Delicate and giggly, the hand he has over your tummy drawing a hidden I love you against your skin while you cuddle into him. He’ll clean you up later, like the gentleman he is. But for now, he’s happy to simply exist beside you and praise you for how well you did for your first time. Sweet reassurances and smiled fondness. He loves you, and despite his less than kind actions tonight, he thinks you might just love him back.

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