frankgpt
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Summary
Cas Novak is not natural, it seems, because there's a boy whose father signed him up to help at the food bank every Saturday that has a voice like honey and eyes that linger on Cas like he's something worth looking at. Which he isn't.
Dean Winchester has been forced into volunteering by his dad (who's an asshole, by the way) due to his behaviour. Unfortunately, the boy he has to help out has nice eyes and a deep voice. Fuck.
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- Words:
- 11,310
- Works:
- 3
- Bookmarks:
- 58
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Sure, Charles will never know what their office that he’s spent decades in smells like, or if this sofa would be scratchy or soft as it rubs against his bare skin. But does that matter anymore?
Edwin’s still fiddling with his zipper, and parting his mouth through a gentle sigh, and then—
Why’s he stopping?
“Charles, this is not quite what I meant when I said we should be more transparent with each other moving forward,” Edwin says, and it’s then that Charles realizes he’s phased right through him.
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So when he was wandering through the dog aisles, doing everything in his power to avoid the 18 year old minimum wage worker, and he stumbled across it, he couldn't help but take a photo of it to send to the group chat with his husband and boyfriend.
Snuggle Puppy. A little dog plush with a heartbeat and heat pad made to help soothe anxious pups. Reminded him of someone he knew.
(expansion of one of my tumblr posts)
Series
- Part 3 of hucklerabbot pup play
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Dennis Whitaker’s life has always been governed by forces beyond his control — faith, family, survival. Until he meets two men who change the rules.
Michael Robinavitch lives like the world might end tomorrow.
Jack Abbot has already watched centuries pass.
Between them, Dennis discovers something dangerous: a love that balances mortality, eternity, and the fragile ethics of saving lives.
But fate doesn’t care about balance.
[[Complete, new chapters daily]]
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Summary
Jack hummed. A spark startled to crackle somewhere in his chest. “You know what? Let me steal him away for a few nights.”
A line formed between Robby’s brows. His cheeks warmed with colour. “What?”
“Night shifts, brother. Night shifts. I need to see what the fuss about this guy is. And I think if you’re not gonna make any more moves out of fear—” he received a glare at that, “ —I’ll take him for a spin and report back,”
Robby said nothing back. The wind howled again.
“Good talk.” he said, clapping his fellow attending on the back.
“I didn’t say yes, Jack!”
“And I didn’t really ask for your permission, did I?”
or, a fic about hucklerabbot neck squeezing/grabbing that leads to collars and leather restraints