Helloo, I’ve never requested a fanfic before, or on tumblr so ur my very first I’m excited ^^ ~ could you do a highschool au of like a bully!gabriel x nerd!reader where he becomes frustrated by the reader not reacting or caring about his bullying, so uses “extreme measures” to really grab their attention. non-con or dub-con, and daddy kink, if that’s okay 🤎
ok i hope u don’t mind i took some “creative liberties” with this lovely prompt and also made it college au but yea. this is an S tier request btw anon and you sucked me back into this shit so props to u 🤎 reader is gender neutral ofc (yes princess is a gen neutral term this is the 21st century)
“You’re not funny, Gabe,” you spoke through gritted teeth in an attempt to intimidate your tormentor, “give me my stuff back or else!”
He responded with a hearty chuckle, tossing your school bag into his locker and closing the door with swift kick. He was bouncing with laughter and amusement at your widened eyes, completely entertained by his own antics, “Yea? What the hell are you gonna do, tell your fucking dean? Go right ahead, see where that’ll get you with me.”
You couldn’t help but close your fists in the tightest grip you could muster, your jaw clenched and face burning red. You hated that he was right, not only was your first instinct to tattle on him, but it would get you nowhere. Gabriel Reyes was untouchable. The school’s quarterback with a promising future that would surely put them on the map once he continued with his career. It made you sick that this asshole would only get a slap on the wrist and a stroke to his ego if you asked anyone to do anything about his harassment of you. What could you do, then? There’s no way in hell you’re just going to sit here and take it.
“No, I’m not running to anyone. Trust me when I say this, you’ll regret messing with me!” The threat didn’t come out the way you intended. Your voice fell out with a crack in the midst of your reply, and tears threatened to fall from your wet eyes. You had hoped he might second guess his actions and consider that you might actually fulfill your promise. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect on him. It seemed to have egged him on even further.
His smile widened and he pushed you against the wall. You gasped at the impact, you could feel a dull pain on your back. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave a mark. Before you could get out of your dazed state, Gabe caged you in with his arms, looking down at you like a starved wolf, “You’re really gonna make this fun for me, aren’t you?”
“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, breath unstable and heart pounding in your ears.
Gabe’s smile beamed. He looked like almost perfect, straight and impossibly white teeth. Full lips and sharp jawline with hints of facial hair. His eyes were dark, like a black hole pulling you in the more you looked into them. Keeping his gaze only revealed to you how weak you were under him. Something he must be aware of by the way he was forcing you to look at him.
He knew you found him handsome. You had told him as much the day you had met him. The day he set his sights on you. He had been much nicer to you then. Saying hi to you in the halls, asking if you wanted to sit with him during lunch, and not taking your shit and throwing it in his locker. But you never came around to him when he asked you if you wanted to go out sometime. You didn’t want to go out with anyone, you were far too focused on schoolwork and tutoring on the side. Dating and boyfriends was just something you didn’t have time for. So you had to refuse and be on your way.
Gabe never understood why you rejected him. How could you be too busy for him? You were always studying in the library, or just reading because you enjoyed it, you said. That’s what all this was about? Reading? That’s like asking your professor for more exams. What kind of masochist shit is that? You must’ve been into that considering all the shit you had to put up with from him.
But fuck, he just couldn’t help but taunt you. The way you insisted upon standing up for yourself even though your face read that you were completely terrified, it did something to him that he couldn’t describe. It made him want to break you. Tear you down and finally see you cry, beg him to stop, beg him to be nice. Just completely melt into him. He wanted to see you on your knees, on all fours, face level with his cock and crying for his forgiveness. For his attention. For any sense of mercy he had for you in his heart.
And you did nothing to quell his desires. Always so pompous in your academic achievements like you were to hottest shit in town. Just like when you became president of the debate club, you gloated about it nonstop until Gabe knocked the wind out of your sails. It didn’t piss him off that you were doing well. In fact, a part of him admired you for it. No, it was the fact that you pranced around so proud before him but you weren’t his. You weren’t asking him if you’d made him proud. Weren’t even talking to him about it. He had to hear about it from a friend of his who was into your nerd shit. Pissed him off to no end.
Now you were here. Trembling under him like a fucking pathetic worm. Yet, you still insisted on defying him. Denying him the pleasure of seeing you vulnerable before him. You were a tease through and through and Gabe was intent on getting what belonged to him. You stared up at him with wet eyes for what seemed like forever until the your phone alarm rang, signaling the start of your next class.
“Well, what do you know. Looks like it’s time for this bright little student to get to class,” he pushed himself away from the wall that had bruised your back, turning back to you, “Hope you didn’t need anything in that backpack of yours today, what a shame.”
……..
As turns out, you would need that backpack of yours. In fact, Gabe must’ve been a stalker creep because his timing couldn’t have been any better - or worse, for you. You had to give a presentation for your language comp class and both your laptop and flash drive were in your backpack. Of course you hadn’t factored in the fact Gabe was going to steal your shit. So, for the meantime, you were screwed until you could get it back.
Maybe this was an opportunity for you to reconcile with him, you thought. Sure, he was hot-headed and seemed sadistically interested in making you miserable, but you couldn’t keep going on like this forever. What was his end goal? You hadn’t the faintest clue, truth be told, but maybe if you could just cut the bullshit with him, go right to the brass tacks of it all and lay everything bare on the table, maybe, maybe, maybe the two of you could come to terms with whatever issues you had. You weren’t unreasonable but you had been stubborn with Gabe. You had hoped he was stop acting like a dick or get bored with you, but nothing you had tried with him so far was effective. So screw it. Might as well try to compromise with the guy and hope he could listen to reason.
Your class ended at noon, the busiest time at your school. Everyone was racing out the door and headed for the cafeteria. Among the crowd, you were determined to find Gabe and, most importantly, your school bag.
You had caught him in the hall standing next to his locker, chatting it up with Jack Morrison, class president and all around golden boy. This was your chance, you thought. You eagerly made your way towards them, Gabe noticing you maneuvering in the crowd in an effort to reach him. An effort that already had him grinning from ear to ear as he averted his attention away from Jack. Before you made you way to them, he was already gone. Gabe shooed him away with words you couldn’t make out, and the two of you were standing side by side in the bustling hall.
You stared at each other for a moment, not saying a word. He knew what you wanted, knew you were going to approach him at some point, but the intent on your face was not what he expected. Your brows furrowed, eyes almost pleading. Jaw slightly slack and bottom lip hanging open as if to speak but all that was heard was the crowd of hungry students running through the halls like a parade. It left him speechless, the very sight of you. You were speechless, too, not sure how to approach him without some form of hostility in your voice. But the halls soon cleared and the silence was deafening. You took a breath, trying to start the conversation.
Gabe spoke, interrupting you, “What do you want?”
It had been so long since you heard him speak that way. Still voice, no sign of amusement or taunting. Almost as if he were genuinely curious as to why you were there. But you both knew that wasn’t true. You decided to play along, let him lead.
“I’d like to have my stuff back,” you spoke with your voice as aloof as you could muster, looking at his locker, “I have a presentation next class and I need my laptop.”
He hummed in response, “Well,” he began to play with the lock, twisting it mindlessly any which way, “guess that means you want me to fetch it for you, right?”
You shrugged, “Not necessarily. I could get it myself if you prefer, I just don’t know your combo is all.”
He chuckled. The sound was so jarring to you, your body instinctively flinched. He looked up at you from the lock, meeting your eyes with that same predatory look from earlier. Everything was still for a moment. Then, Gabe straighten his posture and spoke, “You don’t need to know it. It’s not here.”
“Wha-” your eyes squinted in frustrated confusion. You exhaled, trying to keep your composure, “Okay, where is it? Do you think I could get it back before my next class?”
Gabe could tell you were starting to drop whatever act you were playing. It was cute to see you try to keep your cool with him, the muscles on his face were burning with delight, “Sure.”
You crossed your arms and sighed, starting to grow impatient, “So where is it?”
He turned away from you, slowly walking down the hall, “This way,” he whistled at you like a dog while motioning with his two fingers for you to follow him. How insufferable.
But you did. It seemed that your method had some impact on him. This could be the break you had been looking for. You followed him down the corridor, wrapping around the halls with him until he came to a stop in front of the boys’ locker room. He turned towards you, leaning against the wall looking ever so smug.
You mouth fell open and eyes widened a bit. Huffing, you shook your head, “No way.”
“What?” he kept his eyes on you, “Don’t tell me you’re too prissy to go into a locker room.”
“There’s no way I’m going to go in there with you, Gabe!” you raised your voice a bit in frustration. He couldn’t be serious, right?
“Christ, relax, princess. Coach is out for lunch and I swiped his keys earlier,” he shook his pockets which rang with the jiggling of the keys, “Go on in, nothing to be scared of.”
What he was describing had to break some kind of law, but it’s not like he’d really get in trouble anyway. Not everyone can do this kind of shit, but Gabe could. Even worse, he could get away with it even if he was caught. So what option did you have but to walk through the doors into the dank locker room that reeked of sweat. Much to your unease, Gabe followed behind you and locked the door. He raised the keys in his hands, letting you have a good look at them, “Gotta make sure no one sees us, right?”
You shook your head in disapproval, “Where’s my stuff? Or are you just gonna drag me around all day?”
He scoffed, “You got a real attitude problem, you know that?” Gabe grabbed your elbow in a tight grip. You gasped, struggling to escape his grasp, “Calm down, just come with me.”
“You’re hurting me!” You put your hand on his wrist in some attempt to get him off of you, and he thankfully obliged by pushing you away from him.
“Don’t have a high pain tolerance, I take it? All bark and no bite. Didn’t take you for the type with all those empty threats you spill,” he began walking off, “you coming?”
Although Gabe was mean to you, he had never really hurt you before. Not physically. It shook your core a bit, the atmosphere seemed all wrong and the fact he was your only way to escape did nothing but frighten you more.
“Gabe?” you softly called out his name, not wanting to go any further.
He stopped. Your voice cut through him like a knife. You had never spoken to him like that. He could hear the fear in your voice, hear you on the verge of pleading for him. He turned his head, but didn’t dare look you in the eyes, “What?” he spoke sternly, demanding an answer.
You weren’t sure what to say. So many emotions were running through you - mostly fear and confusion. This was something different than a fight or flight response. You couldn’t describe it, you didn’t want to run away or fight back. You just wanted to appeal to whatever sense of reason he had.
“Why don’t you like me?” your voice was weak, a kind of weakness you hadn’t spoken with in a long time. Completely vulnerable, willing to bare everything for just one moment of clarification. Just one reason why things were like this. It was something you were wondering all along, but could never bare to ask. The kind of thing that is sunken in the deepest pit of your subconscious, never baring its head until you’re backed up into a corner just like this.
He turns around slowly, deliberately. The look on his face is almost pitiful, but not authentic. He’s taunting you with a false vulnerability. Now you’ve done it. You’ve completely unraveled before him. He didn’t know this could be so easy. The two of you had been chasing each other in circles for the better part of half a year and it’s finally come to this. There was no farce, no tricks behind your words.
Three steps was all it took for him to close the gap between the two of you. Three agonizing slow steps. Your hands were clasped together, you didn’t even know why. You felt so small. He wouldn’t answer you. He just looked at you with that look on his face that mirrored yours yet had no purpose but to mock you. Like he was teasing you, just like he had always done. No, this wasn’t working for you at all. None of what you had been doing was working. He had set a trap for you and you foolishly fell right into it.
“Gabe,” you spoke, just barely above a whisper on shaken breath. He raised a hand to your cheek. It had barely touched you but the feeling of his calloused hand and the tension in the air had your flesh burning. Your eyes stung, too, as tears threatened to fall from them. Just like always, you fought at your instinct to cry. But you couldn’t stop a tear from sliding down your cheek and onto his hand.
“Gabe, please,” you were starting to raise your voice. You wanted to turn away, step back, retreat in some way. But he hand kept you there.
He crouched a bit, eyes level with yours. They were dark. Hazelnut brown and an empty black center that was so close to you, you could make out your own reflection. You could hardly recognize yourself.
“Look at you…” his voice was low, but affectionate. Like he was speaking to a wounded kitten, “And all this time I thought you were nothing but a brat.”
He lowered his hand from you cheek and onto the back of your neck. You felt a light squeeze from his grip and swallowed at the sensation, “As much as I want to keep you here, I think we both got places to be. Right, honey?”
Your face grew red with embarrassment at the sudden sweetness in his voice. He was talking to you like his pet, a part of you was relieved that he might not harm you but another part of you felt belittled and tormented. Still, you wanted to comply with him in some desperate hope to get out of this mess. So you nodded, mouth knit shut and eyes brimming with tears.
“Good. Then behave for me,” In a sudden movement, his hands gripped your shoulders tightly and you knees buckled in shock. You yelped as Gabe continued to push you down onto the floor. Your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to get him off of you but it was no use. He was far too strong for you to move him off of you. A hand moved to the back of your neck like before and another grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged gently, “The faster we get through this, the sooner you can get your shit and get out of here. If you don’t behave, then this won’t be pretty. Not one fucking bit.”
Gabe isn’t like you. He’s not the kind of guy who just says shit to scare people. When he declares his intent, he means it. And whatever picture he had in his head of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t comply, you certainly didn’t want to see it. You tried to relax your body as much as you could to cope with whatever he had planned for you.
His hand moved from your back and wrapped around your throat, the other forcing your head to look up at him. He didn’t grip hard but you were already choking on weak sobs and felt suffocated. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to piss him off or provoke him anymore than you already had. Apparently he didn’t mind, and pulled himself closer to you. His crouch was getting disturbingly close to your face, you averted your gaze away from him onto the floor.
Turns out, he didn’t like that. He tugged your hair to get your attention, “What’s the matter, you getting shy on me? Crazy, I never took you for the type. Always talking up a big game, but now look at you.”
With one swift motion, he unclasped his jeans. His briefs peaked through his open zipper and revealed his hard cock through the fabric. You gasped, not realizing what was happening up until that point. You had thought he was just going to beat the piss out of you. No, you couldn’t handle this. Mindlessly babbling, you begged him not to do this, asked him to please stop. Tears were running down your face frantically as you took in sharp, panicked breaths. Gabe soaked in the sight of you, growing larger at your pathetic display. This is exactly what he wanted. To tower over you, commanding complete control while you sit helpless before him. He grabbed a tuft of your hair, pulling hard as he forced your face onto his crouch. Your tongue spilled out and your hands tried to pull away from him but the more you pulled the harder he would grind into you. You could hear him laugh above you and felt his laughter vibrate through his body. It was useless, nothing was getting through to him.
He pulled you off of him and onto the floor. Before you could move, his legs caged you in before him, “C’mon, we’re just getting started.”
He grabbed your hair again, pulling you onto your knees. The floor was hard and cold and it didn’t take more than a few seconds for it to hurt your knees. You tried to get in a more comfortable position, but Gabe denied you at every turn. So you leaned on your knees, certain it would leave a mark.
Your face was level with his crouch and he made a display for you in undressing himself. Slowly tracing the band of his briefs, pulling down to show you the dark hair on his body. He was toying with you and enjoying every second of it, moaning with every touch. Part of you hoped that this was all he wanted, that he wouldn’t make you participate in bringing him pleasure besides watching. But when he sprung his leaking cock out of his briefs, you felt your self wanting to sink into the floor.
He was big and you were not prepared at all to take him. He stroked his cock, precum bubbling and drooling at the tip, “See that, baby” he hummed and laughed, enjoying himself, “You’re gonna clean up Daddy’s cock real nice, aren’t you?”
You didn’t think your face could get any hotter, but it did at that moment. More tears fell and you struggled to let out a normal breath. Gabe pulled harshly on your hair, “You better fucking answer me.”
It was too much. The stinging in your scalp, the hot tears on your burning face, the heavy beating of your heart in your chest. All you could do is resign yourself to his desire and pray to God this would all be over soon, “Yes, Daddy.”
He threw his head back and stroked himself faster, obviously very pleased with himself now that he had your total compliance. Exhaling, he looked down at the sight of you. Desperate tiny frame right next to his hard, leaking cock.
“Take it in your mouth. Don’t make me wait. I’m a busy man, I have shit to do.”
You opened your mouth and licked his tip clean, salty and slimey precum covering your tongue. Inch by inch you took him in your mouth. You fit half his cock in your mouth before his started pumping into you, lewd sounds of your gagging echoing in the empty room. Gabe groaned, hissed, growled in pleasure as he gently fucked your mouth, covering your face in spit and tears and his juices. You were a mess and he felt so fucking good. His thrust became faster, deeper and you choked on him with every one. You didn’t think you could possibly take him all in, but he forced your head down until your chin met with his plump balls and you nose was tickled by his pubic hair.
“That’s it, so good for Daddy,” sweat made his skin glow as he forced you deeper and deeper onto him, “you’re gonna swallow ever last drop of me, baby.”
You could hardly breath. Your mouth was full of the taste of him and the air around you smelled like his cock and sweat. He was all around you and you had no escape.
You sucked on his cock so hard your jaw felt like it was going to break. You just wanted this all to be over and done with. Fuck, all this for a fucking powerpoint presentation. Every part of you ached and burned. Even between your thighs, your own arousal was stirring without warning, desperately squeezing your thighs together for any sense of relief.
“You like that, baby?” he asked hoarsely, “If you weren’t such a fucking brat, maybe I would’ve let you cum.“
You cried out on his cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. He was getting close, frantically fucking your face with more fervor. It wasn’t long before he let go of your hair, putting both his hands on your head and using your mouth like a fucktoy.
“Don’t fuckin move baby, Daddy’s gonna cum right down your throat,” sweat dripped down his chest, right onto your lips as he held your face flush against him. In a few jagged pumps, he emptied himself in your mouth. It was warm and tasted so strongly of his cock that you couldn’t help but instantly swallow, not wanted to gag. More tears came rushing out of you. Thank God, it was finally over.
He let go of your face and you tore yourself from him, coughing and gasping for air. Gabe had to catch his breath, too. Leaning against a row of lockers, he cleaned himself off with a roll of paper towels nearby and redressed himself. You curled into a ball, completely humiliated and unsure what to do next. What time was it? Oh God, you still had to go to class.
You were interrupted when Gabe approached you, towel in hand. His chest was rising and falling, but he wasn’t panting anymore, “C’mon, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll get your shit.”
Reluctantly, you reached for the towel and cleaned whatever moisture on your face that hadn’t already dried up. Your hair was a complete mess. You tried your best to untangle it but there was no way you could fully restore it with just your fingers.
Gabe came back, your backpack in his hands. Your heart soared, relief washing over you, “Consider this a reward. You really impressed me today.”
You blushed, ashamed and not sure what to say. You felt embarrassed at having been so violated but a shallow part of you felt superficially flattered. You wanted to pull that part of you out and punch it in the fucking face.
He tutted, “You gonna be shy around me now? Shit, I don’t mind, you’re kinda cute like this.”
His arms wrapped around you in a soft hug and your body froze. This was all too much for you, “It’s okay, baby. Let me walk you to class. No one’s gonna give a shit if I’m late.”
“I don’t feel good,” you said softly, throat sore and raw after the abuse.
“Poor thing,” Gabe pulled away to get a look at your face. You still wouldn’t look at him. He felt like a fucking king when you were blowing him but looking at you now… Well he kind of felt like a shit head. But damn if you didn’t like good, “Skip class with me. Let’s get you something to eat.”
You didn’t want to be with Gabe right now. But you didn’t want to go to class either. You just wanted to go to bed, “Can you take me home, Gabe?”
“Of course, baby,” He stroked your hair and gave you and gentle kiss on the forehead, you recoiled, “Let’s get you home, alright?”
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I know it's the brainworms talking but prev reblog made me want to write a fic about kisses Dean has stolen over the years.
(y'know that ao3 tag that goes something like "Dean Winchester is obsessed with Sam Winchester"? Yeah, like that)
It would start cute like the forehead kiss to baby Sammy in the opening scene of the pilot, a goodbye just for the night, a promise of protection (turned, we know, fast to ash).
Flash forward fast to disturbing territory of Sam blackout drunk as a teen and Dean dropping him in bed, dodging all Sam's octopus limbs trying to attach themselves to dean until he's just - out. And maybe Dean doesn't go for the kiss this time, or maybe he does, but either way he stares at Sam's lips an unsettling length of time, and the scene bleeds into Playthings and there is this distinct undercurrent of 'how often has this exact same thing played out this way over the years'.
We move from there to AHBL and Dean kissing Sam's corpse as if in goodbye, as if seeking atonement, as if that alone could revive it (sense memory still on his lips when he makes his demon deal).
After Sam's wall breaks, comatose, and Balthazar's joke to Dean about not stealing any kisses while he stands vigil over Sam's sleeping form uncomfortably apt, and Dean knows the angels know too much but could he at least keep his goddamn trap shut in front of Bobby, who's looking stiff and away and it figures. It figures he knows too. Figures the whole goddamn world does. (But not Sam, not Sam who is never conscious for these transgressions, these offerings.)
During the trials when Sam is fevered and ill and dips in and out of consciousness, and Dean feeds him and wraps him in blankets and while Sam shakes out the fever, Dean is wrapped around him, presses kisses to Sam's hairline, his forehead, his temples, chin (lips) catching on the grain of stubble dusting Sam's cheeks, thumb grazing his lips until Sam, unconscious and open, sucks it in like a pacifier, like an infant once again.
And maybe if we are going for a 5+1 format, 5 kisses Sam was unaware of and 1 he was let in on, we twist the knife in just a bit?
Possession, we know, involves an open mouth. And how Gadreel entered Sam with Dean's help is a little speculative. If Dean, holding hands with Gadreel, pressed his lips to Sam's mouth and pried it open, stayed there the duration of the trickery he pulled with Gadreel in Sam's brain, so that Gadreel could flow through Dean like a conduit into Sam's open mouth... One wonders if it would be Gadreel or Crowley who would rustle up the image in Sam's mind for him, the strangely familiar sensation of Dean's lips on his.
Of course we could also reject the 5+1 format or subvert it with a happier follow-up, as if two distinct +1s?
Or we could do short snippets of post!finding out Sam (make a whole different 5+1 sequel? 5 kisses Sam let Dean steal, and one that he stole himself?)
We could frame an awake, eyes wide open kiss with demon!Dean that's filthier than all the rest, tongue and suction and bodies pressed firm to each other, Sam's back to a wall, the perfect opportunity to jab Dean with a needle or to get the cuffs on him but only if he's adequately distracted.
After the bmol, after they save Sam, before he's washed, Dean following him to the showers, restless and desperate to touch, to confirm the solidness of Sam's skin away from their mother's prying eyes, but Sam's awake and Dean's never -- never had permission, never stolen one like this, not except as a demon, and between that and Gadreel... But Sam doesn't argue when Dean helps him to the showers, lets Dean help him pry his shirt off when he hisses at the movement and how it strain his limbs, his belt, his jeans, doesn't argue when Dean helps him into the shower itself while maintaining a quiet freeflow ramble about Sam's back needing someone to wash it and not falling over on his still-sore foot and giving himself a concussion. Devolves into Dean kissing Sam's shoulders and hugging him, Sam twisting eventually to look at him, quiet promise of "it's okay" and then Dean takes what he needs and sets his lips on Sam's.
From there, a quiet, not-quite-stolen one of comfort after Sam marches into camp in Apocalypse world with Lucifer behind him, away from the others and Sam melting into the now-familiar, now-comforting sensation.
Dean pulling Sam in after Michael's possession to ground himself, shirtless in his room, out of place in his own skin. His hands on Sam's jaw, his head, more demanding and less feather-light than most times before. Sam's fingers delicately finding a place along Dean's waist, the warm skin there, finding a sense of comfort in feeling how solid Dean is, a sense of fresh understanding as he slides his hands up Dean's back. Dean telling him the beard has to go after he pulls back.
Then after Nick brains Sam and he's dying or dead on the pavement for a moment before he's healed, who cares who sees, this is understood between them, this helps place their jagged pieces together in ways he's not apologizing for anymore - Sam waking up breathing in the air from Dean's lungs on a gasp, lips tingling, mouth opening under Dean to accept him before he even has oxygen in his blood.
The +1 here is either the barn scene (if we're masochistic) or more likely in heaven on the bridge, both of them seeking it together at the same moment, a kiss that means the same as all the last -- I'm here, I'm not letting you go -- but this time untinged by pain or separation, finally together forever, safe.
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