#John doesn't look that much like John in this one

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[laswells-ashtray]

The lights should've been fixed a week ago, time had caught up to him and the task had slipped his mind. But as his eyes scan over his figure in the mirror, the dull setting only succeeds in making him look lifeless.

He half expects that should something touch him, he'll shatter. The facade will splinter and as the pieces fall away all it will reveal is a mannequin underneath.

John isn't sure if it's lucky or not that he's stuck in his own skin, sentenced to a lifetime of being imprisoned in a body riddled with scarring and aches. The gift of youthfulness has worn off, injuries can't be passed off so easily in a way people so often overlook in their juvenile stride.

The occasional agonizing spasm that strikes his knee is a product of the job, one he's prepared to deal with so long as he's elbow-deep in the dirty work. He's resigned to the state he'll be left in at the end of the day, there is a price to be paid for splattering bloodied tissue over walls that someone else is left to clean away.

His gaze drifts over his chest, from scar to freckle to fading hickey. No part of him remains untouched. The bands of white that stretch across his skin are missing the feather-light trail of someone's fingers tracing over them as teeth graze over his ribs, nipping at the plum bruises that had long since been sucked onto the palette of his chest.

Years ago he would've begrudgingly accepted that his fate was to be shredded limb from limb by a pack of gun-wielding dogs, a mass of flesh and blood smeared across concrete. Then someone would drag his corpse out and leave him to the wolves, a sullied carcass for an animal to feast upon.

A festering cadaver, reeking of rancorous self-loathing that only mutts can smell.

As a sergeant, his body felt like a tomb. He was sheltering something dead and rotten inside of him, shielding it with his ribcage. He felt more like a title than a man, hoarding something that had been slaughtered and shrivelled, decaying with every mission he threw himself into.

As he looks over the shades of purple that litter his body, warmth spreads through him at the memory of Nikolai driven with nothing but desperation as he sought their shared pleasure.

The dull lighting isn't enough to cease the lingering touch of amorous, calloused hands planted on his hips, kneading at the pale skin.

No longer riddled with disgust at the thought of his own humanity, he looks upon himself fondly. He may not be the most alluring man to walk the earth but he's the man that Nikolai wraps his arm around at night. He's the shoulder that the other man nuzzles his face into when he's reluctant to get out of bed.

He spends his days sharing space with a man whose benevolence encompasses every room he enters. Someone responsible for as much bloodshed as his own, with hands that have broken bones he cradles John's face tenderly.

Nikolai's name is a threat of its own and yet when it escapes John's throat, his back arching off of their bed, he recites it like a prayer.

On the days when the other man wanders into their kitchen, black locks curling in every direction and eyes half open with his sweats hanging low on his hips John admires the blessing that is staggering his way towards their fridge.

His pulse stops feeling like a countdown in his ears, it feels like a reminder that he's been lucky enough to see flecks of grey scattered through Nikolai's hair. That their recklessness has yet to catch up with them and they can spend another falling asleep entangled in their sheets.

As the pilot approaches him from behind, wrapping an arm around his waist with his lips pressed against John's cheek, he's all too aware of the beating of his heart and the scarlet that floods his cheeks.

His body is no longer decomposing, bones no longer eroding as disease consumes his organs.

His existence doesn't spite him.

[mylittleredgirl]

look. look. there was a livejournal comment ficlet i wrote once for stargate atlantis. i couldn't find it when i first made a fic index on livejournal in 2011. looked again when i started archiving on ao3. searched again every time i remembered that i still have a livejournal. i'm telling you this thing stuck in my memory banks for no reason except that i could SEE IT i KNEW it was in my journal and not someone else's and i could. not. find it. it's like 500 words of angst and i remembered it being even shorter, like it was not worth all of this!!! but it was symbolic white whale of all the long-lost livejournal comment ficlets.

and today i decided to organize my browser bookmarks for the first time in living memory and it was in there the entire time.

(ao3 link below, but in the spirit of ephemeral livejournal comment ficlets it's also below the readmore)

--

Brother

(579 words, gen, angst, elizabeth weir lives)

Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want."

--

They don't bring Aiden Ford home. He brings himself back after almost six years. When he looks Sheppard in the eye, John thinks the man might throw a punch. And he is a man, not a kid anymore. His face is scarred. He's been clean two years. He knew the location of Atlantis almost all that time – It's not as well-hidden as you think – but it took this long to choose to come home. He lets Beckett – the new Beckett – examine him. He tells Woolsey and Sheppard where he was, what he did, helping a few different worlds, militia to militia.

Sheppard can't feel a thing – relief, guilt, confusion, nothing. He hasn't felt much in a while, going through the years by going through the motions. Even with that, he's aware that this is extreme. Normally, he can at least feel anger. This man was his second-in-command, his enthusiastic right hand, his responsibility. He didn't come home, not even when he could. Not even, he learns, when Ford saw them on a planet, Sheppard and McKay joking around, Teyla and Ronon walking the perimeter. Teyla presses her forehead to Ford's. He lets her. It doesn't soften the glare on his face. "Why now?" John finally asks. Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want." He found Elizabeth. At first, Ford only lets Beckett see her, and only on the planet where he's holed up in a Wraith-damaged village where they treat him like one of their own. Teyla pieces together the story. Ford found out about her, bribed and threatened his way across the galaxy for information. Rescued her, with these natives and their antiquated weapons. Brought her here. "He must not have known that she's dangerous," McKay assumes aloud. The enemy is inside her and can't be taken out. John shakes his head. Ford was at the SGC when the human-form replicators first appeared on the scene – different than the Asurans, but the same. Ford knew, and he did it anyway. Ford won't let them in the hut without handing over their weapons. "We're not going to hurt her," John snaps, insulted at the implication, but if that were a guarantee, it would be easy to disarm. She's dangerous. Beckett says she's unconscious – malnourished, close to organ failure, mental effects unknown, but the replicators inside her aren't actively replicating. Ford fed her the same Wraith toxin that nearly killed him, and her drug-bolstered immune system and the replicators fought each other to a stalemate. She'll suffer withdrawal, according to Beckett, just like Ford did. That sounds like the least of her problems. "She's my responsibility now," Ford insists. McKay obviously winces. John doesn't. "You need our help to cure her," John points out. "Beckett's help." Beckett, who still isn't the same. Ford, whose motivations are foreign, and who wants them unarmed on his terms. Elizabeth, who might still die. "But if you want to see her, no weapons." Without waiting for John's okay, Teyla hands over her gun and says, soothing, "You can trust us. And I trust you." John grudgingly hands over his weapons, one by one. He goes to follow Teyla into the hut when Ford's hand clamps around his arm. "I left," he says, low and dangerous and full of old betrayal. "I get that. No matter what happened to me. But this was Doctor Weir. And you left her." Right then, inconveniently, two steps from seeing her, John starts to feel again.

[born-to-lose-writing]

Teenage Romance

Pairing: Pete Townshend x John Entwistle

Requested by @dannyawesome65

Summary: John confesses to Pete, but them being best friends before doesn't stop them from acting nervous while in a relationship.

Tags: fluff, teenagers, implied homophobia

Words: 2,758

A/N: Young and awkward Towntwistle (featuring a little fem presenting Pete)! I loved writing this 🥺💖

Pete and John spent every break at school together and most of the time they were outside in the school yard, chatting in a quiet place. They never ran out of topics and when they did, they enjoyed that they didn't have to speak to feel comfortable in the other's company.

They wandered around, talking about dogs and sharing dreams of the future, until they found a bench next to a bush that needed some cutting, but it was good enough for them as they couldn't be observed as easily.

Continuing their conversation, they were sitting so close that their knees touched when one of them thought of something urgent to tell the other and shifted in his seat. Pete wasn't bothered by it at all. In fact, he liked when John touched him in whatever way, whether it was a handshake or the brush of his hand when he gave him something.

There was a pause while Pete listened to the light breeze through the bush shielding them from the teachers’ and fellow pupils’ eyes. “I love you,” John suddenly said, pulling his friend out of his trance.

Pete's heart stopped for a second before it started beating faster. He had probably had a crush on him for a while – at least he felt similar about him as he had felt about his first girlfriend, although he secretly had thoughts concerning John he had never had about anybody else. He felt butterflies in his stomach and tucked his shaky hands into his pockets. Surely John couldn't mean it this way though, right?

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, trying his best to sound casual so he wouldn't embarrass himself in case it was simply meant as words of appreciation for being a good friend.

John shook his head, turning to look at the boy next to him. “No, I love you. I'm in love,” he nearly whispered.

“Oh,” Pete simply said, still not knowing how to respond. Of course, he had fallen in love with him too, but he was a boy. The look in John's eyes told him that he was being serious, but Pete hadn't expected him to reciprocate his feelings.

Hesitantly, he reached out to hold his friend’s hand. John glanced down and smiled before they both returned to looking at their surroundings, staying like this for the rest of the period.

When the bell rang, John shyly placed his free hand on Pete's cheek, making him look at him. He closed his eyes and quickly gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his hand and motioning for Pete to follow him to the next class, a sheepish grin on his face.

He was blushing hard as he hurried back inside the school building. His thoughts were all over the place and he only hoped he wouldn't forget which class was next.

Pete tried his best to stay focused despite his eyes wandering to glance at the clock above the door every now and then to figure out how long it would be until he would see John again. Finally, the last lesson ended and they met at the same spot where they always did before walking home, often going to the other's house or stopping to buy something to eat.

John was smiling when he spotted Pete walking up to him with fast steps. “How were your last classes?”

“Uh, they were fine,” Pete stammered, honestly not remembering much from anything that had happened after the last break.

His friend grinned and suggested, “Let's get some food.”

While making their way to their favourite fish and chips shop in Acton, it felt like nothing had changed compared to last week when they had taken the same route at the same time in the afternoon. As long as you ignored Pete's pounding heartbeat, the more awkward conversations than usual, the avoiding eye contact and the nervous little smiles when their eyes did meet.

Weird as it sounded, Pete liked watching John eat. Something about the way he liked to eat and sometimes ate a lot in a short time was sensual to him. He could stare now, couldn't he?

“What is it?” John asked after he finished chewing. Pete hoped he didn't make him feel self-conscious.

“Hm? Nothing,” he quickly replied, feeling his cheeks heat up as he looked back down at his own food and continued eating.

After they had finished, John patted Pete's back and they threw away their newspaper wrappings. This was a normal gesture for them, so why did it suddenly make Pete shudder?

“It's too early to go home, don't you think?” he said after a while, wandering around neither in the direction of his house nor John’s.

“We don't have to.” They kept walking until they found a less crowded green area.

Pete started to climb up a tree, stretching his hand out to help John follow him when he had reached the top. On occasions like this, they had often held hands before, but they had usually let go when support wasn't needed anymore. This time, they didn't. Although John's hand felt hotter today than ever, Pete wouldn't mind getting burnt and intertwined their fingers, resting them on his thigh.

Despite the tree being fairly thick, they had a nice view from up there between leaves. Shifting to spot a new building his friend had pointed out, John’s foot slipped and Pete immediately put his arm around his middle.

“I got you,” he said and John wrapped an arm around his friend as well to steady each other.

“Did you mean what you said?” Pete asked nervously after a few minutes. He assumed he had meant it based on how he had been acting since, but he wanted to make sure.

“Of course,” John answered, asking equally anxiously, “Do you?”

“Yes.” They smiled at each other and this time, Pete brought up enough courage to initiate a kiss. Normally, he wouldn't have, but John seemed to be just as timid as him in this case and he didn't know if he would ever get to kiss him again if they continued acting like this.

He leaned forward and kissed him, feeling John’s grip on him tightening in fear of Pete falling. Finally, they actually had the chance to savour the kiss without having to break it after a second. Pete placed his hand on John’s shoulder and right after he pulled away, the older boy leaned in for another one, a little less awkward, a little more loving and a little firmer to show they were certain of their feelings.

Then they sat in silence as especially right now it was nice to not have to say anything and just reflect on today's events while being together. They wouldn't know what to talk about anyway. The casual topics they usually talked about? Rambling about what had made them realize they had a crush on each other? Deep confessions for which it was much too soon? All options they came up with seemed wrong, so staying quiet was the easiest thing to do.

Eventually, it was time to go home and before they parted ways, Pete squeezed John's hand and waved as he disappeared inside, wide smiles on their faces.

From then on, they made it a habit to sit on that bench where they had confessed their love for each other during breaks. It was on site so they wouldn't get into trouble for leaving the school yard, but it served enough privacy to allow them to be themselves – almost, at least. John had always acted as a shield for Pete when other kids bullied him, but if they got caught, they wouldn't even back off from him.

They still only showed affection in secret, but their fond looks and way of talking implied that there was more than pure friendship going on between them.

When they saw each other in the morning, they embraced like friends did. When they sat in their quiet spot in the school yard, they held hands for the entire break and sometimes rested their heads on the other’s shoulder. When they were about to return to their classes, they shared a brief kiss when nobody was around. On their way home, they walked close enough for their arms to touch. Before going inside their houses, they hugged and squeezed each other's hand.

All this subtle affection didn’t mean the initial awkwardness had disappeared. In fact, they were still nervous about every light touch, even if they had been holding hands during breaks each day for two weeks. They weren't used to it and scared of doing something wrong, which increased proportionally with their growing feelings for each other.

As if a crush on his best friend wasn't enough, Pete was having confusing thoughts about his own gender and after John had confessed his love for him, he felt slightly more confident in his wish to experiment with his appearance.

John could have basically any girl he wanted, yet he wanted Pete, and that boosted his self-esteem. At times, he still felt a little weird about it because in his eyes, John was way ahead of him and he often had the image of the John he had first met in the back of his mind. He had already looked like a young man when Pete would remain a little boy for a few more years. Of course, that was not the problem as their age difference was only seven months. Objectively, there wasn't any problem.

He didn't consider himself attractive, but women and girls wore makeup to enhance nice features too, so it only made sense for him to try the same. Not too much, only a little to see how he could look prettier without overdoing it and risking being called slurs.

Besides that, presenting feminine was practically impossible wearing his school uniform, but he did start to put on a layer of mascara occasionally. The difference was very subtle as he already had dark eyelashes, so unless you got close to him, you would barely notice, while he still felt girlier and even cute.

An additional motivation was to doll himself up for John, especially today when he was coming over for the first time since that special school break. He decided to put on two more layers of mascara than usual along with some eyeliner and just a little bit of his mum’s red lipstick, which he applied with his fingertip to tint his lips enough not to look pale but not so bright that he would look like a clown.

Then, the doorbell rang and Pete rushed to open the door, excited to see John again, even if they had just met at school the day prior. John's eyes went straight to Pete's lips and he smiled as he was let in.

Neither of them knew how to greet each other yet, especially in public, but behind closed doors, Pete felt like he could hug his friend tighter and longer – or rather boyfriend now. He was still getting used to it despite never referring to him as more than his best friend when talking to anyone else. John wrapped his arms around Pete, still nervous but less now that they were not around other people.

However, he was here to rehearse, so Pete pulled away and led him to his room, loosely holding John’s hand as he did. Not because he needed guidance as he had been at the Townshends’ flat many times before, but because Pete liked showing affection, which they couldn't do freely when outside.

They practiced together as normal, with the usual reassurance from John that Pete had talent when he got frustrated over not playing something the way he had imagined.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking down at his guitar to fiddle with the tuning.

Sitting beside him, John had the chance to catch a proper glimpse at Pete's makeup. His eyelashes appeared fuller and longer like the legs of a spider and his dark pink tinted lips made him look even cuter than John had already thought he was.

“You're so pretty,” he remarked quietly, knees touching again.

Pete slowly looked up, blinking. “You think so?”

The older boy nodded. “The mascara brings out your eyes.”

John was too nervous to mention the lipstick despite that being the detail that made his heart race. He wanted to kiss him so badly and perhaps have Pete leave a faint stain on his lips too.

“You should wear makeup more often,” he added sheepishly, gaze still not moving away from his lips.

Before Pete could respond in any way, John pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, his hand resting on Pete's thigh. He quickly returned the kiss, first not knowing what to do with his hands until he started playing with John’s hair at the nape of his neck. Normally, John hated people touching his hair, but he soon figured out Pete was the exception. He wanted to melt into him but feared he would be moving too fast, so he pulled away with a smile.

Pete reached out to lightly drag his thumb over John's lips, chuckling. “Rubbed off a little.”

“Sharing is caring,” John smirked, Pete's touch giving him a tingling feeling on his skin.

After sharing a lingering look, they looked away nervously and picked up their instruments again. John cleared his throat and suggested the next song.

The way their playing complemented each other was indicative of their relationship. While they concentrated to impress each other and thankfully played louder than their pounding hearts, the air was full of adoration and both of them silently waited for the other to take another break so they could kiss again or find some excuse to touch each other.

It had gotten late and honestly, John didn't want to leave yet. As Pete often slept over at his place when everything became too much or he just didn't feel like going home the same day, Pete offered John to stay the night.

During those overnight visits, they always shared a bed. John's family's house didn't have a guest room and even if it had, he would have preferred to be in his friend's own room either way. Despite Pete initially planning to sleep on the rug next to the bed, John had insisted on a more comfortable sleeping space and since then it had been the most natural thing in the world for them to sleep in the same bed.

Of course, it had always been purely platonic. They hadn't cuddled – most of the time at least, although they had sometimes woken up snuggled up to each other, especially on colder nights – and neither had they felt weird about sharing his bed.

Tonight, however, a certain sense of awkwardness hung in the air as they got ready for bed. It was clear that they were going to sleep together in Pete's bed as well, but both of them felt nervous for reasons they didn't understand. If anything, them being in a relationship now should make it less strange. Otherwise, nothing had changed. There were no expectations to be met, all they had to do was go to sleep the same way they had done since early into their friendship.

Eventually, they climbed into bed one after the other, John lying on his right side and Pete close behind him as his rather small bed didn't allow for much physical distance. Before they would fall asleep, he urgently needed to say something.

“John?”

Hearing Pete say his name suddenly made him feel warm inside. He must have said it a thousand times before, but only now he couldn't contain his joy upon the sound of his name rolling off Pete's lips.

John turned around to face him. “Yes?”

“I love you,” he said softly, for the first time in this context, maybe even for the first time to him in general.

He flashed him the same crooked grin that Pete was weak for. Paired with the blush creeping up on his cheeks and his half-lidded eyes that had softened with tiredness, it was enough to confirm that what he had just said was the truth.

Yawning, John brushed some hair out of Pete's eyes and kissed his nose. His hand moved down his cheek and then found his boyfriend's hand, who smiled shyly and rolled over. John was still holding his hand over the boy's shoulder, whispering, “Good night, Pete.”

[always---wrong]

Sorry, hijacking a post here. I wanted to add my own thoughts to this too. As some one who is largely a Dean fan but also as someone who also loves Sam.

I agree partly. I agree that Sam not looking for Dean or cas hurt him. I don't think he was upset with Sam because he decided to stop being a hunter but rather cause he expected Sam to look for him, to try to save him no matter what because that's kinda what they do for each other.

Despite their flaws, these brothers will go to hell and back for each other. That's what we know as an audience ever since Season 1 and that's what Dean knows too.

They can always be sure that if the other was in danger, or dead that the other will fight tooth and nail to bring them back. Even if they aren't comfortable talking with each other, or having conversations without their walls and shields. (Mostly Dean because he doesn't like putting his feelings on Sam. 1. Because he was taught to help/take care of Sam. 2. Because his trauma made him believe that his feelings don't matter and he is there to help others. Which of course isn't true but John sucks)

The reason why I really dislike Season 8 Sam is because his decisions and actions don't match up with any other season of Sam. I was blind sighted. Completely baffled when I watched it.

Because the Sam we know WOULD of looked for Dean and Cas. From everything we know, he would of. There's so many examples of him desperately looking for ways to save Dean. From Season 1 to 5, then again in season 10 and on. Season 1 episode 12. All of season 3. Flashbacks in season 4 to when Dean was dead are all examples of this.

My favorite trait of Sam's, other than his snarkiness of course, is his stubborness and the things he's willing to do to get what he wants. It reminds me of John but not, because while John will push until he dies to get revenge even if it hurts his kids, even if HE hurts his kids in the process, Sam cares about Dean and those around him. He will hold back if it means itll hurt Dean. Exp: Season 1 finale. The exception being, if Dean is dying. The things he's willing to do to save his big brother is insane and I would do the same thing if I were him.

In Season 8, Sam was weirdly apathetic about Dean being gone. I was very confused. I thought he was possessed or something.

So I'm with Dean. I would be hurt too. Simply because saving each other from death is their love language. Really. Its how they show their love--- by protecting and saving each other. When Sam didn't do that it was odd. Even I as a viewer had to wonder if Sam still cared about Dean, even if it should be obvious he does. Cause Sam, as we know, cares about Dean alot. However, season 8 didn't feel like Sam so I didn't know what to expect.

If Sam just looked for Dean, even for a week I would of been totally fine. Dean probably too. I would literally give not two shits that he started a life with Amelia, because I too, if I was sure my brother was dead and I was still hurt by my time in hell, would also look for some simple peaceful times. Do I think Sam, as characterized previously would settle down? Um, actually maybe. With season 7 basically being the 'sam suffers' season I do think he might of wanted a break.

I also have opinions on Sam not looking for Kevin but it doesn't really have much to do about this discussion and it's so out of character I can't even-

Now, my opinion is quite different from yours later in your post. I do not think Dean is controlling. like at all. He's not upset about Sam's independent thinking. And it's not like Sam cares about Dean's opinion on the healthy food he eats. Dean calls the salads he eats 'rabbit food' but Sam also comments on the junk food Dean eats. Its just these brothers teasing each other. It doesn't really mean anything. They aren't deeply insecure about their food.

Sam is also a VERY independent thinker. Hes constantly doing what he wants to do. He went with Dean in season 1 because he wanted to get revenge on the demon. He wanted to do hunts in season 2 (at least in the second episode) because he thinks it's what his dad would want, sure it's because of someone's (his stupid father) opinion but ultimately it's what he wanted to do. John isn't even there. In Season 3 he wants to save Dean, even if Dean doesn't want him too. Season 4 is literally Sam just doing what he wants despite Dean's warnings (which were correct of course. 😌 I'm proud of my boy) In season 5 he wants to stop the apocalypse. It was even his choice to let Lucifer take over his body in the end. Then it was his choice to sacrifice himself.

Most of the time Dean is encouraging Sam to do normal things. Hes actually quite upset that Sam didn't get a normal life. Like in Season 1 in the Shtriga episode when he admits that he wanted Sam to have kept his innocence as a child.

Dean WANTS Sam to have a normal life. So that's not what he was upset about in season 8. It was cause Sam didn't even bother to look. Even for a bit. Even with the amount of energy and time it takes to do a simple hunt. He just decided that Dean was dead i guess and moved on.

However, Dean isn't insecure about Sam's independent thinking.

Man, season 8 Sam makes me mad.

I’m on S8 of my rewatch and man, Sam not looking for Dean after he disappeared into Purgatory really triggered Dean’s abandonment issues. 

I mean, yeah, Dean was pissed off because Sam didn’t even bother looking for him, and just kind of started a new life for himself, which is understandable. But it just clicked for me how much that would have exacerbated Dean’s abandonment issues.

Dean’s abandonment issues are so severe, that he even has difficulty with Sam having independent thought. Sam thinking about things differently or viewing things differently set Dean off. So many times, Sam expresses his independent thought, and Dean takes it as a personal attack on his own views and quickly snaps at him.

I mean it even trickles down to the choices Sam makes about the food he eats or the fact that he likes jogging to stay fit. 

Man…. that’s some serious shit right there.

[ttec77]

Have this drawing I made like a month ago and completely forgot about while I work on finals.

[vaguely-concerned]

Thinking about the symbolic weight of smoking in the TLT universe that comes to the fore in The Unwanted Guest -- the way it moves through from person to person: Pyrrha smoked, and Augustine wanted to impress her in all her stone cold fox MILF James Bond glory (and tbf who wouldn't) so he started too. and even though as far as he knows she's been gone for a myriad and is never coming back, he keeps the habit. Ianthe sees something in the hollowed-out Faberge eggshell of Augustine that resonates with her, all that gilded eloquent emptiness and disdain through the ages, so she picked it up from him to try to emulate it. She picked it up so hard that Palamedes -- the exact spiritual antithesis of the 'smoking! on a space station! what a powermove' ennui Ianthe so admired -- spontaneously unnerded enough to even known how to, simply from a sort of contact contamination of the soul.

G1deon and Augustine sharing a jittery smoke after their near-Harrow experience during soup night, and it's the closest thing to any real sense of brotherhood that remains between them. Pyrrha going ten thousand years dying both literally and for a smoke (and then Camilla sold her fucking cigarettes (for a third of what they were worth, probably Pyrrha's own good, and also more importantly grocery money). what an entirely haunted time to be alive etc.). Augustine and Mercy trading a cigarette back and forth in the middle of their collusion over the love and murder of god.

An act of small and measured self-destruction in the name of something a little bit like connection when you're stuck somewhere in yourself where love itself dares not or cannot tread (ritualized, transmissible)..........

[angelsdean]

no but really it's funny sam thinks dean is john 2.0 when s1 dean is just. content to take on random cases and help save some people and is trying to do some good w/ the hand he's been dealt and isn't all that interested in his father's revenge quest and up until then has always had to play the mediator and swallow down his own feelings and anger. while sam's the one who quickly becomes obsessed w/ revenge the minute he loses jess and finding the thing that killed her and is quick to anger. "you're more like him than i'll ever be" "i'll take that as a compliment" "you can take that however you like" etc etc

[bellesdomain]

We don't give enough credit and appreciation to Sir Trevor Nunn! Excuse me, but the original show was directed by a WORLD CLASS Shakespearean director, one of the best theatrical story tellers in the world! An amazingly talented man, who wove so much depth and meaning into a gloriously silly show about roller-skating trains. He game us the characters and back-stories that we love to explore, and even with years of study there's still more to find in his work!

Let's also talk about John Napier - who isn't even a costume designer! He's a legend for his set designs - and anyone can see why - if you've ever had the privelege to be close enough to the Bridge moving above you you understand. His set for Starlight is amazing... and then the costumes, costumes not even his thing, he just fancied having a go at costumes for Cats and Starlight! Maybe that lack of formal study is part of how the costumes are just SO creative. There's so many layers in there - noticed how our punk Flat-top has steel toe-caps on his skates? - Nothing in the original designs is random or careless. They may not initially have had the budget or technology to fully implement his concepts, but dreaming too big for the constraints of known techniques is what gives us amazing results!

And Arlene Phillips. You gotta admire her love for the show, her commitment, her drive, her passion - without her I don't think the show would have lasted past the 1990s! She's always there, always advocating for Starlight, the real engine pulling the train.

The name that doesn't get anywhere near enough credit too, is David Cullen. He's credited as "Orchestrator" - but stop and consider what that means in a show like Starlight Express. ALW sat at the piano and gave us a melody and chords - David Cullen is the chef that took those raw ingredients and cooked up the whole intricate score. The way you hear the "Engine of Love" melody as a victory for steam, the AC/DC melody echoing when a Component is moving the plot along, the whole story telling through the music - that's all the Orchestrator, not the Composer. Amazing work.

Andrew Lloyd Webber has two real world-class talents that have put him where he is. He can sit at a piano and doodle out a SUPER catchy tune - and he can assemble a team around a project that make it far more than it looks on paper. I mean, Evita? The story of a political dictator's wife as Musical Theatre? Children's poems about cats? trains - on roller skates? Crazy ideas that worked because of the team of people working on them. ALW is the connection but it's the combination that's brilliant.

Just because I like Starlight Express doesn't mean I like Andrew lloyd webber. There are so many other people that go towards making that show amazing. My appreciation goes to the cast and crew, not the writer.

[natelia-aldelliz]

I wanted to try and find my headcanon of Roach's face because for some reason my brain decided that I couldn't keep writing my fanfic if I didn't know what I wanted him to look like beneath his mask... So obviously the full picture wasn't planned. (Also I went the easy way for the background because I remembered that I wasn't getting paid anyway so why make myself suffer)

I don't know if the design is definitive, but I find him cute. I made him Welsh, because why not. He can bond with Soap over why the fuck do the English exist.

Anyway they're gossiping about someone at the pub like the little shits they are. Also I don't know if it's obvious or not, but Roach has the mask sun-tan line. Ghost does too. Speaking of Ghost, he's on the other side of the table, looking like that :

[rin-hanarin]

Sometimes I realize how much self-indulgent dirkjohn I made and it's like. Genuinely impressive to me. I'm impressed by my own art/fic and even analysis posts because damn, I miss my own energy, you mean I was able to just make shit up because I tend to be a little bit bonkers when I'm really passionate about something? For real?

[freshmangojuice]

Favourite Cat Outfits 10/10

Cropped black teddy fur jacket with tassels on the shoulders and bottom edges, knee-high burgundy boots over high-waisted black trousers with subtle pairs of side stripe ribbons, burgundy and gold geometric patterned vest over a gold shimmer shirt. All gold accessories including a chained brooch, a signet ring, and gold clips in long plaited hair with a smooth bouffant on top, as well as square-rim sunglasses with black frames and small gold detail on the arms. Designed by Howard Burden

[sga-owns-my-soul]

me going into the Murder Basement at my work: hi john. don't kill me today. bye john

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

mr faust. never not thinking abt him.

[queers4years]

every time it rains instead of snows in the winter I wanna kms ngl

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.