[tears-of-acid-and-sluts]

[ceriseangels]

hello everyone happy tuesday for your consideration i have this big large man:

[mariasont]

── .✦ JACK ABBOT who loves to correct your posture

★ˎˊ˗ CONTENT 18+ mdni manhandling, lowkey authority kink?, implied age gap, doggy style sex, bratty banter

MASTERLIST | RULES | INBOX

Simply thinking about Jack Abbot correcting your posture. 

He’s a doctor, so sure it starts there, in the territory of alignment and strain and long-term damage, all the tiny indignities a body absorbs when nobody’s paying proper attention to it.

And he worries about you, of course. Worries about the set of your neck and the rounded drag of your shoulders, about how you curl in on yourself over your charting like the screen might swallow you whole, about how you hunch over your phone texting those ridiculous little emoticons and memes he glances at with visible suspicion. 

So he makes an effort to fix it.

A broad hand behind your chair, angling it closer to the desk until your spine has no excuse but the lengthen. Two fingers slipped beneath your chin when you’re bent out of shape around your phone on the couch, tilting your gaze upward until the vertebrae stack properly and the ache in your neck eases. Even in transit — plate to sink, fridge to stove — he stops to cup your shoulders, easing them from your ears with a downward glide of his thumbs. 

A silent reward hums through the touch: a silent good girl, there you go.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” “Uncross your legs.” “Laptop higher.” “Relax your jaw.” 

He knows he’s a perpetual nuisance, aware he sounds like someone’s dad, can practically hear the eye-roll you swallow every time. 

He also knows it embarrasses you, especially at work, where your face goes warm when he corrects you within earshot of other people. And it isn’t that he sets out to make you squirm, though he’d be lying if he said he got nothing out of that quick little fluster he can pull from you with a word, a hand, a look. 

It’s just that once he notices you folded in on yourself for too long, something in him firms. His voice drops into that clipped, authoritative register, flipping a switch to brisk certainty and command, and by then it’s already too late to pretend you’re not going to listen. 

So when he catches you slouched at the station again, practically kissing the monitor, he doesn’t hesitate.

Steps in behind you. His palm fits against the ridge of your upper back, heat seeping straight through the thin cotton.

“Up.”

You mutter, “I hate you,” eyes never leaving the vitals grid, and Jack takes it as the green light it is.

His thumb glides from back to shoulder to nape. The opposite hand curves under your jaw’s hinge, guiding your head until your spine clicks back to neutral while the entire nurses’ station pretends their screens are riveting. 

Public proof that your posture, and maybe the rest of you, answers to Dr. Abbot’s touch far faster than to your own irritation. 

“There’s a whole skeleton under all that,” he observes dryly. “Try using it.”

You bat at his hand, a half-hearted slap. “Stop manhandling me at work.”

He ignores that, drops the chair one notch (ignoring your surprised squeak too), angles the monitor to proper eye level, then squares your shoulders with both palms. A measured squeeze follows, equal parts reassurance and warning.

“Better,” he decides. “And if I catch you bent over that phone again, I’m taking it.”

He likes the line of you best when he’s the one arranging it. 

You figure that out later, breathless and flushed, forehead buried in his sheets while he kneels behind you, two sure hands repositioning your ass in the air like he’s smoothing kinks from an instrument only he can tune.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts, and you’re too far gone to know what he means until his palm presses between your shoulder blades and eases you down, down, down, your hips staying high as your face sinks into the pillow. “Arch for me — c’mon, deeper bend, don’t cheat your lower back.” 

Your breath catches when he palms the dip he’s just created, fingers splaying and then he’s sliding his cock in your folds slow. It earns a pleased mewl from you, angle perfect because he’s engineered it that way. 

Every push has a tiny corrective tap — shoulders down, knees wider, perfect girl — until your pussy clenches and drips all over his rigid stomach and he finally lets you break form, hips snapping while his palm settles, triumphant, at the very spot that first straightened you hours ago.

MARIA NOTE hello this is my trying out little blurbs/drabbles bc this random thought rlly evoked something in me... don't know how to feel it ab. it feels naked without my fun graphics but alas! and the tiny text??? what do we think?? yes or no i'm in the middle right now so feel free to share opinions... it looked a little strange as regular but idk i'm lowkey having an existential crisis over this ok bye

YOU CAN FIND MY POPE CODY MASTERLIST HERE⭑.ᐟ

[kosmogrl]

july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good july will be good

[moodyabbott]

hi cutie, would you be able to do smth about Jack and reader with a mood disorder? Bipolar or depression specifically, i totally get if u arent comfortable writing that and no rush at all if you do write i love your page and ive been dying to get good fics about that.

MWAH

-🐞

jack x depressed reader | mdni

thank you for this request my love!! i really hope you enjoys this. i had a bit of a hard time finishing it as i really don’t know how i wanted to end this.

authors note: to everyone who is going through a hard time.. please remember to love yourself & be kind to yourself. you are a precious jewel!! don’t forget that. my virtual door is always open <3

—

the apartment is way too quiet for comfort. it’s quiet in that weird way which feels heavy instead of the usual peaceful, and warm atmosphere their love resides in.

in reality it’s been like that for almost nine months. she’s been moving through the halls like she’s only halfway inside her own body. she’s been answering in short phrases, leaving lights on even though that’s her pet peeve.

she even stopped picking strawberries and making her favorite desserts and jams.

jack stopped commenting on it three months ago. not because he’s given up on her, or that he doesn’t care.. god, he cares!

it’s because every time he tries to.. it seems to make her crumble in on herself even further. she constantly asked him if he’s disappointed and he’s constantly telling her that he never could be.

he’s anxiously rubbing the back of his neck and standing at the kitchen island— watching her in a way that is making him desperate to reach out and cocoon her in his arms.

protect her from the world. from her thoughts.

she’s slicing the bread for the grilled cheese while he clears his throat, reaching for the fridge to get the ingredients for the tomato soup.

“hey,” he says suddenly. “should we order something instead?” he asks gently when she absentmindedly sighs to herself.

she doesn’t look up from the cutting board. “mm i don’t care. up to you, honey.” she says quietly.

his jaw clenches at that. how her words sound flat and final. like her opinion doesn’t matter. like she’s just going through the motions.

he nods once and goes back to fishing out the ingredients. the items rusting in his large hands as he makes his way around their kitchen.

they prepare the food in silence, chopping and the sound of boiling tomato soup filing the air around them and jack nearly sighs in relief once the soup is done.

he’s quick to tower towards her, kissing her cheek as he asks her to go sit at the kitchen table making her smile at him. her eyes don’t gleam like they used to and he frowns slightly as he watches her move away.

once he’s finally got everything prepared he sets the bowl of soup, along with the plate of grilled cheese down near her wearily as she rests her chin in her palm. he tries not to force it, he’s smart to place it within reach like an offering.

“you didn’t eat much today, bug.” he offers carefully.

that’s when it happens.. because this isn’t the first time he’s brought it up today. and quite frankly it’s been routine for them at this point.

“i said i’m fine for the thousandth time,” she snaps, suddenly too loud for the room around them.

she stands causing her chair to scrape loudly. “can you just stop doing that? watching me like i’m some patient that you need to check on. ”

the silence that follows is immediate. even the central air coming from the vents is louder than anything.

she clutches her chest realizing how she just spoke. jack purses his lips, but he doesn’t flinch because he’s absorbing the impact of her daggers.

“hey” he says her name calmly.

he reaches his hand out for her but she paces to the other side of the table, “i’m not trying to do that to you.” he says while he watches her.

“well it feels like it.” she quivers.

her eyes are bright, not with anger exactly—something messier. the frustration mixed with exhaustion and sadness that’s been locked in her chest so long it’s starting to come out sideways.

jack exhales slowly through his nose, then stands. he steps a little closer to her— still leaving space between them.

“okay,” he says. “then tell me what it feels like i’m doing.”

his question was calm. it was steady.

but it almost made her angrier. it doesn’t give her something to push against.

“i don’t know,” she admits, but it comes out like a warning. like she regrets saying it immediately.

jack nods again, like he can work with that.

“you don’t have to know,” he says. walking closer to her, his hand coming up between then as he held it out for her to take, “j— just don’t push me away.. just because i’m here.”

that lands right in her chest and her shoulders deflate, like her body is tired of holding the fight upright.

“i’m not pushing you away,” she says quieter now, but it’s less convincing.

she takes ahold of his hand and and he smiles lightly.

“i’m just.. i don’t know, jack.” she sighs, “i— i’m not okay and i don’t know how to be around anyone when i’m like this.”

jack pressed his lips together, relived that she finally could tell him the truth. he squeezed her hand in his and nodded thoughtfully.

“yeah,” he says simply. “i understand” he pressed.

that almost makes her laugh. she always laughs when she’s uncomfortable, it’s some sort of childhood trigger that he’s still bee trying to figure out. but then it turns into something shaky her head drops to look at the floor.

jack leans back against the table, giving her control of the space again.

he says her name tenderly, he pulls her a little closer as he lifts her chin with his finger. “i’m not going anywhere,” he adds like he’s already decided.

she looks at him like she’s checking if he means it, or if this is the part where people usually leave.

“you should,” she she whispers, tears streaming down her hallowed out cheeks.

“not your call,” he interjects making her inhale sharply as he whiles the tears from her pretty little eyes.

he winks at her which earns the smallest reaction from her. the smallest smile tugging at her lips makes his head flop to the side to watch as she looks into his eyes for the first time in what feels like months.

there’s a long pause that settles between them, but it’s different now. it’s less sharp and more honest. more true.

finally, she sits back down into her chair slowly, like her body has run out of adrenaline.

“i’m sorry,” she says, barely audible.

jack shakes his head once. “hey. don’t do that.”

“what?”

“apologize for going through a dark patch.”

that makes her eyes sting, and she hates that it does. he slides the plate a little closer again, not forcing it, just returning it to her space.

“one bite for me, huh?” he says. “i know you, and i know you forget.” he says as he sits back down and pushes her plate closer to her.

this time, she lets herself actually let out a laugh. it’s a small one.. broken yet real which causes jacks chest to swell in on on himself as he watches her take ahold of the grilled cheese and take a hearty bite.

“annoying,” she mutters playfully as he watches her chew.

“consistency is key, my baby,” he corrects with a smirk.

for the first time in days, the room doesn’t feel like it’s closing in on her quite as much.

there’s just enough space to breathe.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

when you walk the wrong direction robby corrects you with a sharp “ah ah!” and a grip at the back of your shirt <3 looks down at you, brow raised while he clicks his tongue all patronizing “gotta pay attention, sweetheart.”

jack gives you a breezy “this way, baby” n his hand finds you— your hip, your waist, the small of your back, your hand, whatever’s closest— with a gentle steady pressure to guide you the right direction <3 flashes you a teasing smile with amusement in his eye “you just stay close to me, yeah?”

[shinraalpha]

the other thing that we're missing from the loss of the 22 episode season is a tech-based monster of the week episode the teaches us the dangers of computers (The X-Files' "Ghost in the Machine"; Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "I Robot, You Jane"). like i don't think we'd be having all this trouble with a.i. if people remembered Moloch the Corruptor.

[ube-kun]

Sort of a continuation of that stupid joke about terminally offline Clark

[shawnhatosyssilverpubes]

Imagine being married to Older!Jack Abbot and when people find out you share a last name, Jack tells them he's your dad instead of the truth-

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

TW: Age gap, dad kink? Fauxcest sort of

You're still pretty young, there's at least a 20-30 year age gap (Jesus that disgusting old man). You started being a resident at the pitt around the same time as langdon, drifting through the night and day shift to adjust to your own needs outside of work. You both had already been married a while now, not wanting to waste any time while the clock ticks away. Despite working in the same space it never really clicked to anyone else that you guys were together- you both kept it pretty covered up. (Mostly your decision since it was a little embarrassing to say 'yes I actually love him' and spend hours defending yourself about not being a gold digger).

So to help keep the secret safe, you had a nickname used instead of your last name. Similar to how everyone calls Michael 'Robby'.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

While working a fuck ass crazy shift, full of angry patients and escalating drama, you somehow lost your name tag. "Probably got tugged off when that psychosis guy came in" Whitaker murmured with a small scrunch of his nose; knowing exactly how annoying it is whenever that sort of stuff happens.

You spent hours searching around for it, even peeking around one of the trash bins embarrassingly. It stretched all the way until the shifts were being handed off to the 'Night Crawlers', a small sigh of relief leaving your shoulders at the sight of Jack coming in through the emergency doors with a bag slung over his shoulder and a nice fit black tee. You both gave each other a soft smile and nod, knowing you'll give each other a small kiss 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' in the storage closet in a few minutes.

All seemed hopeless in the search of the name tag, the one you managed to keep tucked in your pocket well enough for nobody to sneak a peek long enough at your last name printed boldly on the front.

"Hey wait I think I found it-" Santos huffed from behind you on one of the computer desks as she reached between one of those stupid cracks between the desk and the other office trinkets stuffed into the space.

Your face dropping like a ghost when she does in deed find it and give it a good look before you're able to snatch it out of her hands

"Your last name is Abbot??!"

Her face wide with a smile full of shock and disbelief.

Her voice was quiet enough not to cause a scene but it definitely made Jack's ears perk up- oblivious to the fact that their little secret had been made out as he struts over to the desk.

Your cheeks flushed in a scarlet rose as you notice jack start to walk towards the desks.

"uh- yeah yeah it's um a family name"

You stammer, knowing damn well this'll probably go further than you want it to

"Really?? Wait so are you and Dr Abbot related?"

Is all Jack hears from Trinity's lips as he steps up with an iPad in hand and his readers resting on the tip of his nose. Taking note of the hot flush on your cheeks and the badge held in Trinity's hand.

"Well yes we are if you must know"

His tone played off as a bit cocky, knowing exactly how to mess with you while also still technically covering up their little ring secret.

Your cheeks still tinted a deep pink as you give Jack a confused look with your hands nervously clinging to the hem of your shirt.

"I'm her dad. Ain't that right kiddo? We try to keep it under wraps though. Little thing, gets embarrassed when people know she works with her old man"

He tilts his chin up at you with a small nod, a little smirk on his lips as his gaze lands on your soft pink cheeks that seem to have gotten a bit more flushed than before. He knew damn well how to play with your daddy issues- there was a reason for that fat rock on your finger after all.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

A/N: lowkey haven't written fanfic in months but I've been obsessing over peepaw Shawn for a while now and I gotta share my filthy brains ideas somehow 👅

[hopelessbrain]

Hii can you do Dean x bambi!fem!reader who has a hard time sleeping and only seems to relax, go to sleep when she crawls into deans arms into his bed?

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW

wordcount: 1217 summary: Dean notices things, and lately he's noticed one thing in particular: you only seem to be able to sleep when you're close to him. When another sleepless night sends you knocking on his door– he is more than happy to become your safe place. warnings: fluff, (pretty sure it’s fem!reader), could be platonic or romantic dean x reader, deer/bambi coded!reader, reader has trouble sleeping (nightmares/anxiety), cuddling, dean is actually a sweetheart n people don’t give him credit for it– think that’s all for now !!!

Dean notices things. Sure, most people often assume he doesn’t. They saw him as the loudmouth, cocky, smug, pie-loving, flirtatious hunter who looked like he bulldozed his way through life without paying attention to anything– but Dean noticed. He noticed when Sam switched coffee brands, he noticed when Cas was trying extra hard to understand a joke, most importantly: he’d noticed you stopped sleeping.

At first, he thought it was a couple bad nights. That happened, it’s not like hunters were exactly known for healthy sleep schedules. Hell, him and Sam had been surviving on four hours of sleep tops for as long as he could remember. But after a while, he started noticing patterns– the dark circles under your eyes, the way you yawned into your sleeve during breakfast, how you always lingered in the library a little longer even after everyone else had gone to bed. If anyone asked, you'd insist you were fine every single time. "M’okay" Dean knew that sentence was utter bullshit– he’d used it himself to brush off other people’s worries about his wellbeing.

He also noticed something else. One night after a rough hunt, you'd fallen asleep beside him during a movie down in his Dean-cave. One minute? You were awake, quietly curled against his shoulder while he mindlessly flipped through channels. The next? Your breathing had evened out– dead asleep. Huh, that was weird. Anyways, Dean had smiled to himself before carefully draping a blanket over you. No matter what the reason was, he was just happy to see you get some rest.

But then it happened again and again… It kept happening. Soon enough, after a few times of the same thing, he realized something– you only slept when you were close to him. Honestly, he didn't say anything, mainly not to embarrass you. Because he knew you– you were soft around the edges, gentle, a little skittish, always worrying about being a burden, kind where other hunters were harsh. So instead, he let it happen naturally.

Then one night, around two in the morning– he heard a tiny knock at his door. Dean was barely awake and luckily enough he didn’t have his headphones on blasting Metallica, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the faint knocking. "Yeah?" He calls out, voice gravelly from sleep.

The door opened a crack and you peeked your head inside. His heart melted instantly at the sight– big sweatshirt swallowing your frame, hands tucked into the sleeves, eyes tired and hesitant. "Sorry" You murmured softly, apologizing before even having a full-on interaction.

Dean pushed himself up onto one elbow to look at you. "What's wrong?"

You glanced at the floor. "Couldn't sleep"

He tried not to smile at your quiet admission.  "C'mere" He pats the mattress beside him, already lifting up the covers for you to hop in.

You hesitated briefly, hovering by the doorway. "Only if it’s okay"

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "Sweetheart, if it wasn't okay, I wouldn’t have offered it" Your shoulders relaxed immediately. And there it was– that tiny thing you did, the way your entire body softened whenever he reassured you. You padded across the room quietly before climbing into bed. Quietly, like you were trying your very best not to disturb him. (As if your presence could ever do such thing) The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you settled beside him carefully, too carefully for his liking. Dean snorted softly. "You can get comfortable, y’know?"

"Sorry"

"There it is again" He huffs fondly, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

You blinked up at him. "What?"

"The whole ‘sorry’ thing" The hunter gently reached over, tugging you closer until your back rested against his chest. "Quit apologizing" Your body tightened for a second, caught off guard. But then he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you even more into his warmth– immediately, he felt the difference. The tension he'd grown so used to seeing in your body slowly began to disappear. It was like watching a frightened animal finally realizing it wasn't in danger anymore. Dean's hand gently rests on your side, thumb tracing slow circles over your waist. "There we go" You let out the tiniest sigh, the kind you didn't even realize escaped but made it out anyways. He smiled against your hair, satisfied to see you relax. "Bad dreams?"

You nodded. "Couldn't make my brain stop"

"Yeah" He sighs in agreement, fully understanding what that felt like. Hell, he’d spent countless sleepless nights tossing around with too many thoughts tormenting him.

You were quiet for a moment before carefully speaking up: "Is this annoying?"

Dean scoffed. "Seriously?"

You shrank a little into yourself, not sure how to react. "I mean...I don’t know"

His hand stopped moving for a second– not because he was upset, but because he needed you to hear him. Really hear him. "Sweetheart, look at me" You turned around slightly, peeking at him over your shoulder. Even in the dark, your eyes looked uncertain. Dean softened immediately at the sight. "Listen to me" He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a softness that was surprising in a roughened hunter like himself. "You are never annoying" Your expression faltered, like hearing those words genuinely surprised you– that alone made his chest tighten. "If you're having a bad night, you come get me"

"Dean—"

"Nope" He cuts off your quiet protest, squeezing your side. "M’serious"

You stared up at him, curious and gentle all at once. "What if I wake you up?"

He snorted. "Sweetheart, I've fought vampires on three hours of sleep" That earned a tiny laugh. "There she is" You half-heartedly ducked away from his gaze at being called out to which Dean grinned. "Besides..." He shifted even closer. (As if that were possible) "Could get used to this"

You turned around to look up at him again, your eyes widening with something close to thankful warmth. "Really?"

"Yeah" He shrugged simply. "Room's would be too empty without you"

Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. "Dean"

"What?" The hunter smirked. "It's true" You hid your face into the pillow, turning your back to him once more. Still, he felt your smile before he even got to see it. God you were cute, ridiculously, unfairly cute. He pulled the blanket higher around both of you– making sure your shoulders were covered, making sure your feet weren't cold, making sure every inch of you was tucked safely against him… Eventually, his arms found their place around your stomach, thumbs slowly rubbing back and forth over the fabric of your sweatshirt. Your breathing gradually changed into longer, softer– sleepier inhales and exhales. Dean smiled to himself, murmuring a soft: "Attagirl" against your hair. Your fingers gently curled around his forearms. Like you needed to make sure he was really there. Like if you held on, the nightmares couldn't follow you.

And maybe they couldn't– because here in his arms, there were no monsters that could get to you. No overthinking, no scary thoughts waiting around every corner. There was just Dean.

Warm. Solid. Safe.

By the time your breathing evened out completely, he was already halfway asleep himself. But he didn’t fully drift off until his lips brushed the top of your head in a sleepy kiss. "Got you, sweetheart"

[pinkandblueblurbs]

bratting to jack by secretly paying the dinner bill yourself while he’s in the bathroom

[pinkandblueblurbs]

18+ mdni (some cnc vibes towards the end— safewords are in place!)

when jack comes back to the table you start picking up your purse and sweater— “you ready to go?”

he flashes you an amused grin as he pulls out his chair. “still gotta pay the bill, honey. sit tight.”

“oh,” you shake your head, casual as ever, eyes all innocent, “i took care of it.”

he stops in his tracks. his eyes flit around your face, waiting for you to crack a smile or bust out laughing, waiting to hear your lilting ‘just kidding!’

when none of it comes jack’s chin tilts forward and his brows furrow. “scuse me?”

“I took care of it.” You repeat, slowly, like he just didn’t hear you the first time. “The bill.”

Jack’s eyes narrow. He catches the flash of excitement in your eyes despite your efforts to appear nonplussed. “Right. Let’s go.”

When you stand Jack sidles up beside you like he always does. But when he slips a hand around your waist his grip is tighter than usual. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hip. He leans down, lips brushing against your hairline.

“You wanna drive home too?” Jack says lowly against your ear. Somehow he makes that simple question sound like a threat. Your stomach flips

“No,” you murmur. Jack grunts.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

when you’re home he helps you shrug off your jacket and hangs it up beside his own. then, the moment your shoes are off, he nods down the hall.

“Bedroom.”

You swallow at his tone. “Am I in trouble?”

Jack chuckles and hooks a finger under your chin. His thumb swipes over your lower lip. The way he’s looking down at you makes your knees threaten to give out.

“C’mon, sweetheart, trouble? You treated me to dinner. I’ve gotta make it up to you.”

he ends up eating you out until you’re a crying writhing mess <3 thighs squeezing his head, hips lifting off the mattress, mouth running mindlessly with pleas for him to stop

[cryptic-doe]

jack never argues with his girl. on the rare occasion that he does, he never ever raises his voice at her. on the other hand, she'll yell and scream while fighting. from the beginning, he's known about the small temper that she can get when something really sets her off. a bad trait passed down to her from her father. so he lets her get as loud as she needs/wants to. once she finally takes a deep breath and stops, he'll just give her that look that says, "you done?" and maybe he'll let her get her frustrations out even more in bed.

[sawed-on-shotgun]

the human body when you use it and exist in it

[groovyangelkisses]

oh to be laid on your back on jack’s bed, his big figure sprawled on top of you. his scruffy cheek rubbing against yours as he kisses at your neck and shoves his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. his hands frame your waist and squeeze. his neck and cheek are sooo red as he asks you, condescendingly, “you know how pretty you are, huh?” and when you giggle and the heat rushes to your face he pulls back and mirrors your smile. teasing “you know how pretty, baby? tell me. tell daddy”

[violained]

texts with bf!dean, you're having a hard day ♡

use of baby, sweetheart, and pretty ! requested <3

[morallygreymmc]

need to mouth at pope's neck and bite down on his shoulder 🥺

[marveladdicts]

Thunderbolts* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier