proper thank you
words: 600
warnings: 18+ only!, stepbro!rafe, sending nudes, stepcest, kinda dumb/baby reader???
“carry me up to bed rafey?” you coo at your step brother, fluttering your lashes as your pout turns into a giggle when he sighs, unable to resist your pleading face.
“you're the most annoying little sis ever.” rafe says, calling you the nickname just to tease you as he leans down, scooping you into his arms. he carries you like you weigh nothing, so easily slotting into the good older stepbrother role when your parents married, despite him being only a few months older than you.
“thank you rafey.” you say sweetly as he walks you up the stairs, your arms holding him around the shoulders, head leaned against his broad chest.
“yeah, you gotta give me a better thank you than that.” rafe rolls his eyes as he carries you into your bedroom. only once the door is closed do you press a wet kiss to his cheek as a proper thank you.
rafe plops you down on the bed unceremoniously. “there ya go.” he waves as he walks away, knowing it's not actually goodnight as you let out a whine.
“tuck me in?”
rafe hides his smirk before turning around, putting on his slightly annoyed act like he always does when you ask him.
rafe pulls the fluffy blanket out from under you. it's slightly weighted so it naturally tucks around your body anyways as rafe covers you, but his hands still move slowly, feeling your body as he pushes in the blanket until you're stuck tight underneath it.
“anything else? want me to tell you a bedtime story?” rafe says it as a joke, but with the way your eyes light up, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, recounting three little pigs from memory the best he can.
“alright, you gotta get to bed now.” rafe glances at the clock on your nightstand as the hour hand ticks closer to midnight. “goodnight.”
“goodnight rafey.” you smile softly before letting out a yawn. “ill give you a proper thank you soon.”
rafe isn't sure what you mean until he makes it back to his room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone until a text message appears from you.
he clicks it to open up the image, his eyes widening and dick swelling as he sees you in a silky nightgown, the swell of your breasts clearly visible, nipples poking through the fabric. he recognizes the nightgown from a few days ago, but you clearly got further undressed.
rafes eyes bulge as the next image loads, the same pose, now sans nightgown, tits bare and thighs clenched together to make a delicious looking v that rafe wants to dive into.
a proper thank you ;) reads your text, along with one last image, this time with your legs spread, smile on your face as your cunt is on clear display. you took the marker tool to add to your lower stomach “property of big brother.”
rafe is in your room untucking you from your bed before the clock reaches midnight.
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Prompt 169
Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever.
It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident.
It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine.
He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages.
He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely.
Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings.
Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh.
Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case!
The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…
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one of the things about being an educator is that you hear what parents want their kids to be able to do a lot. they want their kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a politician. they want them to get off that damn phone. be better about socializing. stop spending so much time indoors. learn to control their own temper. to just "fucking listen", which means to be obedient.
one of the things i learned in my pedagogy classes is that it's almost always easier to roleplay how you want someone to act. it's almost always easier to explain why a rule exists, rather than simply setting the rule and demanding adherence.
i want my kids to be kind. i want them to ask me what book they should read next, and i want to read that book with them so we can discuss it. i want my kid to be able to tell me hey that hurt my feelings without worrying i'll punish them. i want my kid to be proud of small things and come running up to me to tell me about them. i want them to say "nah, i get why this rule exists, but i get to hate it" and know that i don't need them to be grateful-for-the-roof-overhead while washing the dishes. i want them to teach me things. i want them to say - this isn't safe. i'm calling my mom and getting out of this. i want them to hear me apologize when i do fuck up; and i want them to want to come home.
the other day a parent was telling me she didn't understand why her kid "just got so angry." this woman had flown off the handle at me.
my dad - traditional catholic that he is - resents my sentiment of "gentle parenting". he says they'll grow up spoiled, horrible, pretentious. granola, he spits.
i am going to be kind to them. i am going to set the example, i think. and whatever they choose become in the meantime - i'm going to love them for it.
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