gyllenhaalstuff

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Jarhead diaries?

This is starting to feel like an impossible quest, but does anyone have a link for the jarheads diaries???

[gyllenhaalstuff]

heyy I graduate in three weeks! This period is very busy but I haven’t forgotten about you all!!!

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Fuck for love -

Jake Gyllenhaal

Summary: An old family friend comes over to spend a few nights at your house. However, seeing him generates unexpected new feelings.

Warnings: Age gap, overall morally ambiguous situation, fingering, masturbation, piv sex, unprotected sex, praise.

Word count: ~2500

Notes: Hi again!! School has been hectic and so I don’t have much free time to write, which is why my feed has been dry. Hopefully I’m back on track sooner than later. Also originally I wanted him to sneak into your room… couldn’t make that work. Maybe I’ll have to do a part two with that. Anyway, enjoy! xx

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jake had been a friend of your dad for as long as you could remember. They went to football games together, comedy club nights, and pubs. But, men being men, they rarely hung out at home with one another. With that, you hadn’t actually seen him in years.

However, he had gotten a project in LA and needed a place to crash. And the y/l/n home in the Hills was the perfect spot. Your mother, of course, had offered him to stay in one of the guest rooms, which he gladly agreed to.

The sun was beaming the day he arrived. You watched the black car pull into the driveway, reflecting the scorching sun. He looked tired, or maybe he just looked older compared to when you last saw him. He pushed his sunglasses away from his face as he greeted your parents; his smile had stayed the same. You heard his suitcase rattle as he rolled it across the hardwood floors downstairs, bringing it into the guest bedroom he would be staying in.

You were not the most social kid out there. You preferred staying in your room, decorated with thrifted trinkets and still girly even as you had grown. This, along with the sound of conversation and laughter downstairs, brought a warmth into the otherwise cold and minimalistic house. You lay in bed listening as you fiddled with the lace hem of your tank top, feeling excited about seeing Jake after so long.

And rightfully so. You strutted down the stairs and into the dining room as your mom called out for dinner. There were a few candles lit and four plates instead of three. Jake sat on the left side, talking to your dad about stuff you were all too young to know: economics, politics, and insurance. When you sat down across from him, he immediately turned to you and drank you in. “Hi sweetie, I almost didn’t recognize you!” You smiled shyly, which you hated yourself for doing. His eyes lingered on the curve of your breasts, unintentionally and guiltily. “You’ve grown since I last saw you. How old are you now?” You avoided his gaze and focused it on your mom bringing in pots and plates of food. “18, 19 in a few months.” You didn’t expect to be nervous and had a hard time pinpointing why. Of course, you knew deep down, but admitting it required you to see a part of yourself you did not like. A perverse, morally corrupt, and shameful side.

You managed to stay out of the conversation for most of the dinner, except for when Jake tried to bring you into it. “Do you study?” “Any friends? Boyfriends?” “Do you still play the piano?” You told yourself it was all in your head, the lingering glances and exaggerated smiles, but maybe it wasn’t. “No, no, and no.” The whole situation had you shaken, squirming, and stuttering. Plopping down at your desk afterwards felt like a relief, even though things were still stirring in you. You weren’t dumb; this was lust, but you beat yourself up for feeling it. This was a family friend, someone you had known for years, someone who still saw you as a kid. These facts were meant to calm those feelings, meant to make you feel so ashamed that the desire subsided, but they only made it worse.

After a cold shower, you felt more at ease and decided to occupy yourself by reading. It worked for the most part, though you slipped up a few times and imagined the love interest looked like Jake, but it was not anything you could not snap out of. A knock on your door startled you. “Come in!” A pair of blue eyes peeked in. “Am I bothering you?” Jake asked while scanning the bedroom, reading posters, and judging the vinyls on your wall. “No, it’s alright,” you assured him, allowing him to step into your room. “This is close to how I remember it, unlike you,” he joked as he walked around, noticing a pile of dirty clothes with your scattered underwear in it. You laughed at his words and laid the book beside you, the pages facing down. “Well, a few years have passed,” you countered and were met with: “It’s a compliment; you’ve aged well.” Your voice got stuck in your throat; you wanted to say the same thing back, but instead you just blushed. “Grown into a pretty young woman, though that doesn’t surprise me,” Jake mumbled as he admired your bookshelves with everything from Sally Rooney to Bukowski. “Smart too.”

You couldn’t go back to reading after that. His cologne lingered in your room, confirming he had really been there and really said that to you. You smiled to yourself, embarrassed and flattered. He had always been good-looking; it was a known objective fact, but now you saw more than just that. You now noticed his sharp fangs when he smiled, his tan, strong arms, and his hands hugging his biceps whenever he crossed his arms. He had become attractive to you, arousing and heart-palpitating.

Little did you know he felt the same way seeing you that day. How his breath had caught in his throat and how his groin had twitched when you swayed across the dining room to your seat. How he berated himself for looking at your tits, for walking into your room and noticing the used underwear on the floor, for wondering how many ignorant boys you had allowed into those pristine sheets, for imagining you touching yourself in your twin sized bed, arousal dripping onto the mattress. He tried so hard to fall asleep that night, to be the perfect guest and not jerk off in another person's home. But the thought of you in your room, you on your own, was too much.

The Santa Ana winds rattled through the trees outside your window and blew their hot air into your room. It was impossible to sleep, not just because of the winds but also because however you tossed and turned, your thighs still involuntarily rubbed together. You were growing desperate at the hands of the middle-aged man downstairs, old enough to be your father and old enough to never think of you that way.

After a while you gave up. Your feet hit the floor; sleep wasn’t on the radar for tonight. You tried your best to be completely soundless as you went down the stairs, skipping the creaking steps. A light shined from the living room; someone was already there, suffering from a sleepless night too. Mumbled voices streamed from the TV, a film from the 80s no one remembered that only played during the late hours. You stepped in and met the face that had kept you up. “Can’t sleep?” He asked, oblivious to why. “No, you too?” He nodded and averted his gaze back to the TV screen.

You sat down on the other end of the couch, staring blankly at the film. “Shouldn’t you be sneaking out?” He asked jokingly, seemingly out of nowhere. “I don’t do that,” you replied, that meaning whatever he wanted it to. “Is that why you don’t have a boyfriend?” You were taken aback; this was not a version of Jake you had met or even seen before. He noticed and waved it off, “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine. And I did have a boyfriend until a few months ago.”

A quiet moment passed by, uncertainty floating through the air. “You’re too pretty to be alone on a Saturday night,” he said, trying to liven up the mood. “I’m not alone.” The words came out before the thought had processed. Without realizing, you had crossed a line. I don’t have a boyfriend, but it doesn’t matter because right now, there is you. “ That’s not what I meant.” Even though your heights were evened out by the couch, it still felt like he looked down at you as he spoke. “And I’m too old for you anyway.” You felt like hiding, but there was nowhere to. “But you still think I’m pretty?” Your weakness was on full display, exposed to the man across from you. “Of course you are. Very pretty.”

The room fell quiet again, but it was different this time. His eyes didn’t search for a distraction; instead, they were locked on you. “I just wish I could show you.” He left you with that thought, wanting you to figure it out, wanting you to let him get away without vocalizing it, but you did not. “Show me what?”

“Show you how pretty I think you are. And always have been.” Your face felt hot, scorched by his flattery. “How would you do that?” The temptation was too high, and the attraction too. “Like a boy your age.”

Beat.

“You would fuck me?” He almost frowned. “Is that how they show it?"

You shrugged, feeling like a child in his presence. In that moment he seemed wiser than anyone; he knew all there was to know, and you knew nothing. “You shouldn’t fuck for love.” He had decided to play your game, letting the harsh words roll off his tongue. “Unless it feels good, that is-“

“It doesn’t.”

Beat.

“Don’t let boys use you like that, honey,” he tried to give you a warm smile. “Come here.” You hesitated for a moment, so unsure about what he meant and how much you read into it. You scooted closer and sat facing him, cross-legged on the soft sofa. “You’re still so young. There is so much to love about you. Don’t let them waste it all.”

He placed a hand on your exposed knee and stroked it with his hand. Friendly, fatherly. That was until it crept further up, touching and stroking your peach-fuzzed thigh. “They don’t know what to do with a pretty girl like this.” You didn’t know what to say and barely had the guts to try and speak. “You said you were too old for me?” Your voice trembled with nerves, with lust and fear. “Do you think I am?” He stopped his caressing and looked at you. The wrinkle between his eyebrows urging you to say yes, yes, I’m young enough to be your daughter. But the slick between your thighs wouldn’t let you. “I don’t care. I want this.”

He smiled from relief and pulled you into his lap. “This is so wrong,” he scoffed as he felt your soft skin beneath his calloused palms, but he didn’t look like he meant it. He looked like he wanted to swallow you whole, swallow your moans, and let you swallow him. His lips attached to your neck, kissing you under your ear as his stubble scratched your skin. You couldn’t help but let out a small, weak moan. You told yourself you must’ve actually fallen asleep and were just dreaming this scenario. You felt you were too young, too pathetic, and too clueless for him to actually want you.

But he felt you were perfectly clueless, perfectly malleable, perfectly unaware, and/or careless about morale. His tongue against your neck was, in that sense, the same as his hand shaking yours. Make no mistake, Jake wasn’t the man who longed for younger, more submissive women. It was just you.

He hardened beneath your straddled hips, affected by your desperate grinds. Your hands found his salt and pepper hair, and you settled your fingers in between his locks. When he suddenly stopped, you were scared he wanted to back out, that he had realized he was in unacceptable territory. But instead, he laid you down and peeled off your shorts.

A small smile crept across his face as he saw your underwear. Pink, lacy, and soaked. “This isn't just from now, was it?” You shook your head and whined in response, which pleased him. “Poor thing.”

He hooked his fingers into them and discarded them behind his back. A finger ran up your slit, gathering your wetness and spreading it over your clit. “What a pretty girl.” You barely heard it through the pounding in your ears. The rough fingertip circling your clit was mind-numbingly precise and confident, not flailing away or losing focus. He then swapped it out with his thumb and dipped his middle finger into you. His held-back moan made a hum as he felt your walls hug his finger. All he could think about was how well it would hug his cock.

Two fingers were a snug fit, but you gradually relaxed around them with the repeated hits of your G-spot. You gritted your teeth as you tried to hold back every little sound that threatened to spill out and wake up the house. All while your brain was seeping out of your ears. In your trance-like state, Jake had freed himself from his sweatpants. His cock lay heavy in his hand as he stroked its length while watching you writhe.

With a slap against your mound, you regathered your senses. The tip of his cock was dangerously close to your entrance as it rubbed against your clit, grinding up and down against it. Jake leaned over and grabbed your hand, and his tongue invaded your open mouth. You kissed him back feverishly, making your lips turn plump and wet. His grasp on your hand hardened as his cock slipped into you instead of grinding up against you again. He took a ragged breath through his teeth. hissing at your tightness. “Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” “You’re so pretty,” “This is so wrong.” His mumbling would’ve been incoherent if he wasn’t so close to you. It didn’t stop as he sped up, but the nature took a slight shift. “Dirty fucking girl, letting me use her like this.”

You pulsed around him when your orgasm hit and washed over you, its waves making you shiver as they crashed. “That’s my girl.” Jake stroked your head, cradled you, as he kept rutting into you. He came with a rough sigh, a groan that would make any girl weak in the knees. He breathed into your hair as he waited for the air to return to his lungs and for his heartbeat to steady.

It felt weird getting dressed and walking into different rooms. Your teenage mind immediately thought of Romeo and Juliet; you were two lovers not allowed. Jake said good night with a kiss on your forehead and an “I’m sorry.”

And that was that. You woke up with a pressure over your chest and excitement in your bones.

He smiled at you during dinner, all coy and knowing, and at night he went to sleep on the couch, in case you couldn’t sleep and wanted him again.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Hear me out… jake being a friend of your dad’s. he’s staying at your house for a few days and one night he sneaks into your room. GOD AUGH

Yes. I’m ovulating.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

debating a writing a really morally bankrupt fanfic…

[gyllenhaalstuff]

“This is so wrong” “You’re too young for me” whines as he fucks you PLEASE

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Ash

- Jake Gyllenhaal

Summary: You’re young and rich. During a summer night in the 80s, as the hills stand ablaze, you get together with some friends - Jake being one of them.

Warnings: Drugs(coke, weed), alcohol, friends to lovers, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1200~

Notes: I’m back with something…different. It was fun to write so whatever. Very scene focused.

————<3————


Cedar and ash. Like a citrus forest after a fire, burning above the hillside house. That’s what he smelled like. Or maybe his scent was tainted by the memory of that hot summer night, when the hot winds rolled off the mountains, down over LA.

Growing up rich in LA meant your future was all planned out, all prepped before grades or universities even mattered. And when you are young, have money, and a set future, there are bound to be parties, drugs, and sex. Clove cigarettes in the back of someone’s BMW as the sun set over Century City. Passing a smoking blunt around the jacuzzi, everyone’s eyes the size of the moon and hollow. Never paying for coke—when money is all you have, it means nothing.

This night smelled of smoke even before everyone had lit up their preferred herb. The fire had been raging for days; the desert winds were flying in from the east, spreading its flames. The house was empty, your friend's parents off to some charity event; they had not bothered to find out more about it.

Jake had arrived along with a few other of your friends, seeing as he was one of them. But you always separated him from them; he was a bit less obnoxious and not speeded all of the time. This, paired with his looks, was enough to get your thoughts going. The thought process turning your legs weak and your brain to mush.

His wet tongue swiped across the opening of the corona. It had been empty for 30 minutes by then, but sunset had brought a laziness with it, leaving everyone paralyzed on the patio. The sky blended in with the raging flames of Beverly Crest, bathing the pool area in a golden light, both dystopian and utopian. The glass bottle against Jake's lips made you cross your thighs. And when he lazily tongued the opening while listening to some story you couldn’t care any less about, you thought you would die.

Twilight meant people either went home or started pulling out bags of coke, handing out free bumps like candies. This brought a certain solidarity between you and Jake, both too content to leave but too tired for coke. As the rest went off into their own world, you two got to share this one.

“Why don’t you do it?” He asked, leaving you confused since he didn’t specify what.

“Do what?”

“Coke.”

You shrugged, “I get too jumpy, I guess.” This was an attempt at being nonchalant, an attempt at relabeling paranoia.

“Too bad. I feel like you’d be fun coked up.”

Well, this was unexpected, almost flattering. “Trust me, I’m not. I don’t get much better than this.”

Jake shrugged, smiling. This meaningless conversation made way for a current to flow beneath it, telling you that he wanted to talk to you, no matter the subject. Telling you that him talking to you was not the goal, but that there was an ulterior motive.

The bathroom mirror reflected your flushed cheeks. Your heart ached with want and sent blood rushing to your groin. You would have gone home and miserably rocked against your hand if it was not for the alcohol keeping your courage up. Or for the fact that Jake talked to you in a way he had not before, as if he was searching for an in. Trying to give you a chance to surrender to him.

After a while, you gave up on cooling down and decided you could just blame your blush on the sun. On your way out, you saw Jake in the hallway, seemingly waiting for something. He gave you a nod. You reciprocated and kept walking, but he grabbed your arm, stopping you and turning you around.

“Hey, sorry, I just—” he fumbled with his words, made nervous by your confused gaze. He swallowed and focused, collecting all his strength. “Just don’t play with me. Either take the bait or leave it, you know?”

There was almost an annoyance in his voice, or maybe he was just trying to be stern and clear.

“What are you on about?” It did not click. Maybe the weed had made him paranoid.

“I’m trying to, ugh, you know?” He huffed as he rubbed his eye, growing embarrassed.

“To fuck me?” You said it like a joke, defacing it before he got the chance to.

“Yeah. Something like that.

He was serious. Your body acted before your brain, smashing your lips onto his as your hand hugged his neck. His cologne enveloped you, acting as a narcotic. He placed his hand on the small of your waist to carefully test the waters, carefully pulling you closer against him.

The series of events played out like a movie scene. Rehearsed and strategic, meant to be played over and over. Jake broke the kiss and opened the closest door, revealing a bedroom, and that he knew his way around. You stumbled into the room, closing the door behind you.

Jake fell back onto the mattress and pulled you on top. His hands rested on your hips, pulling you down slightly to feel you against the tent in his pants. You gave him your tongue once again as you felt each other up. This would be the perfect instance for that expression. Feel each other up. The hands stayed rarely in one place for more than a second, constantly searching, squeezing, and rubbing. Desperate, hard, and unsure.

You did not know for how long you had been turned on. The heat had done something to your head, made you dizzy and impulsive - think Camus. Clothes were thrown away, but your skin was still hot to the touch, Jake’s too. Maybe the winds had gotten to him too.

His tongue traveled across your chest, lapping at your nipples as he tightened his grip on your ass. His cock was now out, lying heavy against his tan abdomen. You slid across its length, rubbing your clit along it before it accidentally slid in. If the circumstances were different, you would have pulled him out and looked for a condom, but your head was spinning.

He gasped as he entered you, wincing at the sudden surprise. You both stayed immobile for a second, welcoming the turn of events. You breathed a sigh of happiness before lowering your head to lay against Jake's chest. He bounced your hips up and down as you moaned against his skin, breathing in the scent of Old Spice and musk.

Like when diesel is poured into fire, your body exploded into light. The sounds coming from the mountains might as well have been coming from you. Jake followed, whining as he came, holding you tightly to him.

The room suddenly seemedcool;, your armsprickled,d and a chillranm through you. Jake's bergamot shampoo wafted from his hair as the AC whirred. The fire was put out as the astronomical twilight set in, making swirls of smoke and coloring everything blue.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

nah cuz mean david loki is hella hot but then when he’s in you he completely melts and whines like a bitch

I’m gonna rip my hair out.

Bother

- Detective Loki

This gif makes me cum sorry

Summary: Seeing you talk back to him, David gets more bothered than he should, in ways he definitely shouldn’t.

Warnings: arguing, degradation, groping, semi public sex, mirror sex, change of dynamics, David is pathetic, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1379

Notes: Hey, so this is ass. I still wanted to give this a try even though I’m not very good at writing mean characters. Hope you find it alright still xx :)

══════════════════

If there was one thing David liked, it was being in control. Or at least feeling like he was. However, this didn’t mean that he never lost it.

Working for him entailed being bossed around a lot. There was never a moment to catch your breath, but continuous tasks, one after the other, for 8 hours straight. File this paper, call that department, email the forensics, go through the CCTV footage, copy this transcript. Through all of this, David remained stoic and stern, even though his wandering eyes told another story.

This way of work didn’t usually bother you; in fact, it was nice not being bored. But on bad days, God, you wanted to rip David’s head off. And if he got frustrated enough, his clothes too. On this particular day, you couldn’t make yourself do anything but stare at the wall and linger by the coffee machine. It got on David’s nerves; it was obvious by the way his forehead vein showed with the clenching of his jaw. With his work ethic, he couldn’t wrap his head around your slacking. He also couldn’t wrap his head around why this made him want to push you up against the wall instead of slamming your head into it. The latter bothered him the most.

“You didn’t send out that email,” he pointed out when you came back from the coffee machine, again, cup in hand. “Sorry, I’ll get to it. Just tired today,” you excused yourself; he didn’t seem to care. You weren’t weak, but getting told off felt horrible, so you complied. “We’re all tired today,” he mumbled back as if to say, ‘I don’t care if you’re tired. Do your job.’

You sat back down in the uncomfortable office chair, put your coffee on the desk, and opened your computer back up. Dear Pavlikovsky,. Regarding the skin cells collected from the steering wheel in the Finch case… You could finally think of words and actually put them into text. But life wasn’t going to be that easy, so to even it out, your elbow knocked your coffee cup over, spilling its contents across your desk before you were able to catch it. “Jesus Christ,” David sighed, “Can you do anything?” Like you needed to hear that, like you weren’t already pissed off at yourself and him. “I’m trying here!” you said back, accidentally raising your voice at him. He didn’t like that, not at all. “Yeah? Well, you should try harder,” he countered, matching your volume.

This was your final straw. You got up and left the room, making a straight line for the restrooms. Fuck this job, fuck David, and fuck Pavlikovsky. You pushed the door open and stepped into the tiled room. All the stalls were empty this time of day, thank God. You turned on the sink before splashing your face with water, drying it, and sighing. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect yourself. 1, 2, 3, 4… But then the door opened, which was weird since you were the only woman left.

“Hey, no need to barge out like that.” Sigh. His voice was lower, but neither kinder nor calmer. “Why not?” You looked at him through the mirror, and for once he didn’t look like a dictator waiting to point fingers. “Because I like to be respected,” he explained while stepping forward, standing a foot behind you. He looked down on you in the reflection, with his arms crossed and eyes blinking compulsively from frustration. “Why should I respect you if you don’t even like me?” Maybe you should have kept quiet, but it was time to rip off the band-aid anyway. He snickered at this, at you. “I don’t dislike you.” David felt himself abandoning his morals as he took a step forward, pressing his crotch against you. “But I can’t stand you constantly disrupting me.”

Why he did this, he had no idea. Or he knew why he wanted to; he just didn’t understand how he could have. But as you had abandoned your tasks and disrespected his orders, his mind had gone elsewhere while his blood rushed to his groin. Control was slipping away.

It took a second for you to register what was happening, widening your eyes once you realized that your laziness wasn’t going to be punished but rewarded. You weren’t complaining about the change of events, not at all. In fact, this might get you back on track. Seeing this authoritative man fighting to keep his composure had arousal swirling in your stomach. His nostrils flared as his breathing deepened, seeing his crotch pressed up against you.

“I won’t stop you,” you admitted even though you still had some anger lingering. David looked relieved for a moment, a rare sighting. He placed one of his hands on your ass, making you lean your upper body against the sink and press back up against his erection. “Do you always slut yourself out like this?” he asked you, but didn’t back off. Instead, He pulled your pants down and squeezed the exposed skin.

Even though you had a hard time understanding his thought process, you didn’t question him. Especially when you saw him undo his pants in the reflection. You weren’t going to ruin this. You backed up against him once again. He hummed quietly through gritted teeth, still trying to maintain control.

“You did this,” he pointed out; it almost sounded like a threat, before pulling your panties down. The sight stirred him up, made him twitch in his boxers. He ran a finger through your folds, scoffing at your wetness, making you blush with embarrassment. He pulled his cock out, stroking it a few times before lining himself up. His breath grew shaky when your wetness warmed his tip; his eyelids even fluttered. He was slipping out of it.

He pushed in and whimpered like a bitch as your warmth hugged him. You couldn’t help but grin to yourself. You weren’t the slut here; he was. Getting riled up seeing you pissed off and then following you to the bathroom, hoping he would be granted some relief, that's pathetic.

He was moving inside of you slowly, too slowly. Realizing how weak he was made you take the wheel. So you pushed yourself onto his cock, without warning or concern. His nails dug into your hips as he whined at your sudden move. His mind kept telling him to keep his focus, to not lose himself. But he did. He was expecting to fuck you, not to be fucked. His plan had crumbled.

His hips made weak thrusts as you fucked yourself on him, mindlessly moving. The view in the mirror made your stamina feel infinite. His furrowed brows and slack jaw. And the cries spilling from his mouth were like a drug, making everything electric and your brain fuzzy. David thought he was going to melt into a puddle; he hadn’t had sex in so long he had forgotten how fucking good it could be.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he mewled and gripped your skin tighter, forgetting how strong he was even when he was being pathetic. His hands would come to leave purple bruises on your hips. “You’re a weird fucking guy, David.” You scoffed as you tried to keep your tone strict amidst your struggling breaths. To your surprise, David’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your words. Regret built in him, which for some reason made his arousal do the same, making him feel even more ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in his strained, high-pitched, whiny voice.

You upped your pace, making him fully moan. His noises bounced off the cold tile, echoing through the room. His hair was a mess; strands were falling down over his face. You almost felt proud, betting very few people ever got to see David like this.

He came with a loud whine; it almost sounded more like a sob. The fact that you had your superior cumming inside of you was a rush. You backed away from him, pulling off of his cock. “So this is why I bother you,” you turned around and huffed, “Just let me know next time you're horny so I don’t have to make a scene.”

[gyllenhaalstuff]

New Loki fic tonight xx yayy

[gyllenhaalstuff]

here to feed you a sub!donnie idea: donnie with severe mommy issues confiding in the reader after a hard night with frank, so she takes care of him in every way he's ever needed and makes all of his fantasies come true. with lots of begging. and lots of needy and desperate donnie. poor baby just needs some love!!! :(

Stop I love this. I need to hold him and suck him off.

Give and take

- Donnie Darko ᡣ𐭩

This picture makes me want to cry, cum and rip my hair out.

Summary: Donnie has a bad dream and ends up needing some love.

Warnings: Begging, humiliation, mommy kink, handjob, blowjob, facefucking, light cumplay.

Word count: 1301 (short.. soz)

Notes: I’m not well versed in mommy kinks but I tried my best. I honestly don’t hate the outcome. And thank you all for being patient with my inconsistent updates, xx.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

You woke up in the middle of the night. The digital clock showed 02:34 am, its red light was the only thing visible in the pitch-black room. Whimpering beside you was Donnie. Tossing and whimpering in his restless sleep. Mumbling about the apocalypse and rabbits.

“Hey, Donnie, are you okay?” You lightly shook his shivering frame. He continued with his incoherent rambling. You sighed and turned the bedside light on, making him wake up, wide-eyed and full of adrenaline. He looked confused for a second before recalling that yes, this was his own room, and beside him was his loving girlfriend. He was not in danger; the world was not ending.

Your heart folded over itself; you couldn’t help but want to take care of him, seeing his tired, sad expression. “Everything is alright, baby,” you tried to reassure him. Poor thing looked like he was about to cry. He turned to you and buried himself between your arms, nuzzling his face into your chest. He began to calm down, his breathing evened, and his skin rid itself of goosebumps. You stroked his back and spoke, “Bad dream?” He nodded and whispered a “yeah.”

This wasn’t a rare occurrence. However, him getting hard in this situation was. You couldn’t help but hum a small chuckle. Not to embarrass him, of course; it was just unexpected, that’s all. Donnie, on the other hand, was a bit too fragile to handle that. “God, I’m sorry.” He whined in shame, “I’m so fucking gross.” Looking back at it, you’d feel that way too, getting turned on by being cradled after a nightmare.

“Don’t say that, Don.” You grabbed his damp face, angling it up towards you. “Don't be too hard on yourself.” But he found it difficult not to, but equally difficult to not rut against your thigh, which only spurred on his shame and frustration. He needed you, needed to feel safe and to be loved. “Want me to touch you?” You asked, putting it out there. And hell, of course he did. It was all he wanted. “Please,” he whined, almost sniffling again.

You sneaked a hand between your two bodies, placing your palm over his boxers. His erection was fully fledged and needy. “Keep begging,” you prompted; this had to be fun for you too, right? And what could be more entertaining and satisfying than your boy begging to have your hands on him? “Please, just don’t stop. I’ll get you anything in return, please,” he mumbled, face pressed against you once again, "Don't leave me like this." You closed your fingers around his clothed cock as a reward.

“Feels good being taken care of, yeah? Feels good having someone lick your wounds?” You rhetorically asked before comforting him, “I’ll take care of you; there’s nothing to worry about.” He bucked his hips against your palm as he whined at your words. If you bottled the sound and listened to it without knowing the backstory, you wouldn’t know whether it was a man or a woman whimpering. His high-pitched cries, quieted down to not wake the household up, got stuck in his throat, shredding them into small hiccups.

You sat up, leaving Donnie curled up beneath you; in your defense, it was for a good cause. You settled in front of him and played with the hem of his underwear. “I can’t make you feel better with these on,” you explained so he would raise his hips off the mattress, allowing you to slide his boxers off. It was ironic how he looked so small and fragile all while his veiny dick brushed up against his belly button.

You wrapped your hand around him once more, but without anything separating you two this time. You spit on his tip before spreading it over his cock, twisting your fist around it. A breathy moan left Donnie’s mouth; it hung open as his eyelids fluttered. “God, thank you,” he sighed relieved, finally skin to skin with you. “God has nothing to do with this,” you countered. This made him ramble apologies again, “Sorry, only you. I didn’t mean that. Sorry, Mommy.” You tightened your grip around him in surprise. You liked this woozy, tired Donnie. “Mommy now, is it?” You picked on him, making his face turn maroon in the dim light. “I don’t know; I just said something,” he stammered, trying to waft away the lingering sound waves of his slip-up. “Need mommy’s love, huh?” You teased him, torturing this poor, already suffering boy. Not that he actually minded it.

Donnie was losing his mind. You couldn’t help but offer your mouth to your sweet boy, starting by running your tongue up his shaft. Following the veins upward. Donnie shuddered at the sudden warm wetness that seconds later reached his tip, swirling around it like ice cream in a cone. His fists grabbed onto his sheets, but no matter how hard his fists clenched it, his thighs still spasmed. With a grip around his base, you lowered your mouth onto him, slowly but surely. Broken “Ah’s” filled the room, bouncing against the walls and inside your brain like a pinball.

His cock hit the back of your throat, watering your eyes and threatening tears to spill. Donnie tried his best not to buck his hips into your mouth, failing at it. A careful thrust challenged your gag reflex, but you weren’t about to fight him for this. He needed your help; he needed to be cared for and to forget about Frank and the universe collapsing. You stopped bobbing your head, removed your hand from his base, and looked up at him. As if to say, “Go ahead. Whatever makes you feel better.”

You were lucky that Donnie was so sweet even when he had permission to ruin you. His hands tangled in your hair without pushing it down as he carefully began grinding his hips against your face. You would’ve done it just to feel his cock twitch against your tongue and to hear the noises spilling from his lips, but the view was definitely a plus. Donnie with his head leaned back, exposing his jawline and neck. The rising and falling of his chest fastening as he went on. His open mouth and closed eyes.

Involuntarily and unaware, he began pushing your head down with each thrust upward. His mind was blank, except for your name and your new pet name he had accidentally spoken out loud. To say he was grateful for your love was an understatement, and you’d come to be rewarded for your love by having his face trapped beneath your legs the following day.

As his pace quickened, his moans grew louder; he must’ve forgotten that you weren’t alone in the house. Bitchy, whiny whimpers praised your mouth as he neared his orgasm. His brain was too mushy to warn you before holding you still, with your nose brushing against his dark hair and cumming down your throat. Thank you’s rolled off his tongue repeatedly, like a mantra.

With Donnie’s cum coating your tongue, you crawled up his tired body. Leaning over his face, you stuck your tongue out, showing it to him before sharing it with him. His parted lips welcomed you into his mouth, tasting himself on you. He hummed against your lips and swallowed his share. When you pulled away, you swallowed what was left to you and smiled at your perfect boyfriend.

“You’re unreal,” he mumbled; now you were the one blushing. “I just want you to feel taken care of, loved, you know?” You laid down beside him and opened your arms to let him snuggle up against you. “Just don’t get hard on me again cause I can’t say no to you.” Donnie let out a nervous laugh. “Shut up.”

[gyllenhaalstuff]

I’ll be doing my requests from the bottom and up. I see you all. My visionaries.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

sub!donnie fic tonight per request yippiee

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Hey how did you get your "Ask" thing to be personalized? I can't figure it out lol

I’m not a tech girlie but if you click the gear icon and scroll down, you should see an “ask page title” tab. And above that is all the ask page settings. Hope that was clear xx

[gyllenhaalstuff]

I’ll try to catch up with requests during the weekend, might take a while to get through them all tho xx

[gyllenhaalstuff]

I will actually do ANYTHING for another adam bell orr maybe anthony claire…. fanfic since when u wrote him it was SOOO GOOD and there is not enough fanfics for him!!!!! I just rewatched Enemy and hes saur fine and im just craving to write another fanfic of him / them and especially by you

Adam Bell is one of his hottest characters idc. Also… I was ovulating when writing this. This is filthy.

After class

- Adam Bell x student!reader

Summary: Your professor asks you to stay behind after class. Wink.

Warnings: Dom!Adam, age gap!!, size kink if you squint, “sir”, he’s basically using you but you’re too in love to see it, mutual masturbation, fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 1909

Notes: I am going insane (ovulating) sorry about the pervy pet names xx.

· · ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── · ·

Everyone struggles in university. The stakes are high, and the classes are too long to pay attention. But in Bell’s class, you couldn’t pay any attention at all. Not to the subject, at least. Your eyes would fall to your professor's hands, the bulge in his slacks, and his tongue when he licked his lips in between sentences.

With time he managed to make himself at home in your thoughts. Every waking hour you would fantasize about being bent over his desk or kneeling under it. You couldn’t catch a break, even in your sleep. This took a toll on you, as well as your studies.

“That’s all for today. Make sure to get to page 250 in the Iliad,” Adam reminded as the students packed up their things. “Oh, and y/n, could I have a word with you?” You froze in your tracks. You hadn’t done anything wrong or failed an exam; sure, your mind was elsewhere, but that was your own problem, not his. You trotted up to his desk, laptop under your arm. “Is everything alright?”

He gave you a reassuring nod, “No need to worry, sweetheart. Sit down for a second, will you?” You grabbed the closest chair and placed it in front of his desk. You twirled nervously with the hem of your skirt. You had never been this close to him, never been able to see the gray in his beard or pick up on his cologne. It was intoxicating.

“You seem a bit tired. Your studies are fine; I just want to make sure everything is alright,” Adam explained. Maybe it was just your imagination running wild, but he seemed nervous too. “Oh yeah, I haven’t been sleeping very well, that’s all,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as he studied you. He rubbed his tired eyes, making you notice the veins on his hand. “I understand. Insomnia?” Either he was actually oblivious to your attraction (spoiler alert, he wasn’t) or he tried his best to ignore it. “Weird dreams,” you corrected. You were stuck between wanting to jump his bones and running as far away as possible. Adam suddenly looked intrigued. “What kind of dreams?” He pushed, curious about his pretty young student. You stayed quiet at his question, unable to be truthful and unable to lie.

He chuckled at your nervous expression, “Now I see.” You blushed and squirmed in his chair. Could there be anything more embarrassing? “About who?” He asked and fiddled with his pen. He knew he crossed a line; he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t even want to know. But he did. And when he was met with silence again, he smiled to himself. “It’s me,” he sighed, a statement and not a question. You nodded. This was torture.

“Poor thing. You know that’s not possible.” You felt like crying. Not only was your secret out, but you were being rejected. You looked down at your clammy hands; you wanted out. Especially since your body went against your judgment, making you clench your thighs and your underwear damp. “I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled.

Adam thanked God for being behind the desk; you seeing his erection would make his whole game collapse. “Look, if I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to suffer like this. But it’s not up to me now, is it?” His eyes were kind and nonjudgmental. You sniffled and forced a smile, “Yeah, I get it.” He leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling as if solving a problem. “However, if it never gets out…” He hummed, keeping you on your toes. Your heart lightened a bit, daring to get hopeful.

“Come here, honey,” Adam then said and scooted out his chair, making room for you to come stand in front of him. You put the laptop on his desk and walked towards him. He looked you up and down, slouched in his chair with his legs spread. Two strong hands grabbed your thighs from behind and pulled you closer. “I won’t bite.” He smiled and stroked you with his thumbs.

You were sure you had gone insane and were hallucinating the whole scenario. But his stern grip on you felt much too realistic. “You’re my favorite student, you know,” he began, with his eyes stuck to his hands on you, “You’re ambitious, smart, and pretty.” If your shame had died with your integrity, you would’ve moaned at his praise. Instead, you swallowed it down.

“You wouldn’t mind stripping for your professor now, would you?” His voice was so sweet, contrasting with his lust. You finally dared to look at him. Your doubts melted when you saw the tent in his pants. He wanted you too. Your hands began pulling up the hem of your shirt, all while your eyes were set on his crotch. Adam hummed at your lace bra. “Do you always wear pretty things like this to my classes?” One of his hands grazed your breast through the fabric, making your nipple peak. A pathetic “mhm” escaped your throat as you nodded at his question. “Should’ve found out sooner.”

Adam guided you to his desk, lifting you up on it, and stood between your legs. He cradled your warm face, adorned with glassy eyes. And when he kissed you, you thought you’d die. He was so gentle with it, maybe because of his ulterior motives, but it still made your heart melt. His lips moved slowly against yours, teasing you with his tongue, which finally entered when he wrapped an arm around your back. A shaky breath left you, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against his. He let out a laugh, muffled by your mouth.

He broke the kiss and commanded against your lips, “Take your skirt off.”You wiggled out of it, leaving you in your panties. Your nicest ones that you always wore to his lessons, not that you thought he’d ever know. Adam cupped his hand against your damp underwear, grinning to himself. “My poor girl.” He loosened his tie and began unbuckling his pants.

Your breath hitched at the sound of metal clanging. The amount of times that sound had echoed in your imagination was more than you could count. You sat perched on your arms, lending you a view of him undressing. When he untucked his shirt, his happy trail made your stomach swirl. You followed it down to the hem of his exposed underwear. His cock was straining against the fabric, eager to use you.

He pulled it out of its restraints. His hand wrapped around it, stroking himself. Sadly, your eyes were too focused on the movements of his hands that you didn’t notice how his eyes flickered between your needy expression and the damp spot on your panties. He had thought of this too, more times than he’d admit to himself. Dreamed about having his student squirming for him, needing him to take care of her.

“Show me what you do when you’re thinking about me,” he panted, “show me how you touch yourself.” In any normal situation, you would be way too embarrassed to do it. But for him, you would do whatever he asked. You pulled off your panties, exposing your soaked cunt before snaking one of your hands down to your clit. Your legs spasmed at the first touch; you had never been this turned on in your life. Adam watched intently as you massaged your clit, watching as your body tensed with each circling motion. You fought to keep your eyes open, to keep looking at his cock, finally revealed to you. You never thought you’d see it, let alone see him with his hand wrapped around it.

You paused for a second, not wanting to cum now and embarrass yourself. The pause was cut short by two callused fingertips taking your place. The surprise finally had you moan; Adam reveled in the sound. He let go of his cock, focusing solely on making you feel good.

He dipped his fingers down, running them over your slit. You had given up on sitting and were now lying down, sprawled across the dark wood. You clenched when his fingers entered you. If you didn’t know, you’d think it was his cock, based on the stretch compared to your own fingers. A tinge of jealousy hit you when he hit your spot with ease; he must’ve been with many women before you.

Adam’s mouth watered at your walls clenching around his digits. He pulled them out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness. “Shh, don’t get all whiny now,” he shushed and grabbed his cock again. This time, he placed it against your clit, letting his tip press against it. “Next time, I’m gonna bury my face in you.”

Your hips jerked against him. His words went in one ear and out the other. You just needed him inside you. “Please, sir,” you whined. Adam huffed in response, “Hm? What?” He wasn’t gonna let you win this easily. “You want to be fucked?” The condescension in his voice was enough to make your thighs flex. “Yes, sir,” you nodded eagerly, “I want you inside me; it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” He scoffed at your rambling, pleased with your desperation.

He entered you slowly, making you stop your pathetic cries. He groaned at you enveloping him, squeezing his cock. “I could’ve told your age just from how tight you are,” he huffed, “my pretty little girl.” His strong hands hugged your waist, pulling you onto his cock. You swore internally to never be with a guy your age again. The stretch made your mind go quiet and your mouth loud. You moaned with each thrust, painfully slow but deliciously stretching and hard.

Adam watched his cock disappear into your, in his opinion, perfectly young cunt. He upped his pace once your body stopped fighting his length, stuffing you fully when he swiftly entered you. You cried out at the sudden change and kept at it as he continued with his relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his hips; somehow you couldn’t get enough despite the painful intrusion.

Adam lowered his torso down over you, capturing your lips in a messy kiss. His beard scratched your chin as his tongue clashed with yours. His cock kept hitting your G-spot over and over, pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m close,” you whined against his beard, furrowing your brows in pleasure. “Go on, baby, make a mess on my cock.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair as the pressure rose, scratching his scalp. He was nearing his climax too; his jaw hung open as he panted against your skin. His strained noises pushed you over the edge, making your legs tremble around his tall frame. Your cries echoed through the lecture room. And soon his grunts did too. If you could, you’d play the sound on repeat forever.

He slumped over you, breathing heavily once his cum had filled you up. “I can’t believe you want me,” he mumbled, making your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t believe you finally slept with him, let alone having him even talk to you. “You’re gonna have to stay behind a lot from now on.”

You didn’t sleep any better that night. You were busy replaying the afternoon behind closed eyes, adding a third finger to resemble his two, staining your pristine sheets with need and the remainder of your professor's cum.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Thank you for the tag pookie!

favourite color: green

currently reading: drawing blood by poppy z brite!

last movie: 10 things I hate about you

last series: jeopardy…

last song: sympathy is a knife - charli xcx

sweet, savory or salty: sweet!

currently craving: chocolate mmmm

currently working on: school project mostly… but planning to go through my requests after!!

@arroganceisherfavoritecolor

Nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you @shortace for the tag

Favourite colour: green

Currently reading: The Bones Beneath My Skin by TJ Klune and Rivals by Jilly Cooper

Last Song: Wait For It from Hamilton

Last Movie: I Saw The TV Glow (again)

Last series: on a Phineas and Ferb rewatch

Sweet, savory, salty: sweet. But not too sweet.

Craving: choc chip cookies (luckily I have some downstairs)

Tea/coffee: coffee. As black as my soul

Currently working on: much good omens fanfiction. So much.

Tagging: @funky-disco-demon @starks-kid @sweet-omens-good-hugs @turtlenec-crowley @snognes @reese-the-usc-girl @reggie-moony @rjcee-art @snek-of-eden

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Hihihihi!! I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen ‘Brothers’ but I was wondering if you could to a fic with Tommy Cahill ??? I was thinking maybe he just got out of prison and reader has been with him for a while; so she comes with him to the family dinner at Sams house. Things get a bit heated by the end of the night between Tommy and his dad

Rage fuck at readers place after??

We need to talk about Tommy more cause God… I’d leave any man for him any day. One of Jake’s best characters honestly.

First day home

- Tommy Cahill

Summary: Your boyfriend just got out of jail and you celebrate by having dinner at his shitty father’s place. And well, Tommy gets pretty riled up.

Warnings: Established relationship, dysfunctional family dynamics, angry sex, overall rough handling, dom!Tommy, reader is basically a sexdoll, piv sex, unprotected sex, a little fluff at the end.

Word count: 1150~

Notes: Not super long but I wanted to put out something<3

· · ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── · ·

Your boyfriend finally got back out from prison. He hadn’t done anything that bad, but life is tricky, and he wound up there. You couldn’t be happier that he was back.

However, celebrating his first day back with his family was the last thing you wanted to do. Especially when the tension in the air was enough to give you a migraine.

Tommy's father was spouting nonsense at your man. How he should be more like his brother and serve his country. “If you stayed out of trouble and became more like Sam, well, maybe then—“ Tommy slammed his fist against the table before quickly apologizing, afraid he had scared his nieces. He shot his father a death glare and went back to eating.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Everyone seemed eager to get out of there. Tommy looked down at his plate, visibly frustrated by the way he gripped his fork.

“This was great, thank you.” You nodded at Tommy's stepmom, Elsie. She smiled warmly; she was actually a nice person, just a pushover in situations like this. “I’m glad.”

The sound of voices raising in the hallway caught your attention. You walked over and saw exactly what you’d expect: Tommy bickering with his father. “Well, if you hadn’t fucked over mom, you wouldn't fucking hate me, and I’d actually be good for something!” Tommy glared at his father, grabbed your hand, and opened the door. “Let’s go home.”

You got into the passenger seat of Tommy's (borrowed) car. He didn’t say anything about the dinner. He didn’t say anything at all. He turned the engine on and backed out of the driveway. Your eyes caught on him as he looked back through the rear window. God, you had missed seeing him and gawking at him outside of prison meeting rooms.

He drove in silence. You knew Tommy. If he didn’t talk, it was because he didn’t want to. So, even though the silence made you want to rip your hair out, you stayed put. In an ideal world, you’d be getting fucked in the backseat by now instead of nervously waiting for him to break the silence. His grip on the wheel was hard. He had a lot of anger in him that he knew was better squeezed onto the steering wheel than come out of his mouth and hurt you.

He pulled into the driveway of your shabby apartment complex. It almost looked like a motel with the balcony on the front and all the windows with the shades drawn. It was far from ideal, but all you could afford considering Tommy didn’t make a whole lot of money the time spent in jail.

You switched the hallway light on and took off your shoes. You watched Tommy do the same, standing with your back to the wall. “Can I do anything for you?” You couldn’t stay quiet any longer. In response, two familiar hands were placed on your hips, turning you around. “Just stay nice and quiet,” Tommy said, his breath wafting on your neck. He had missed you so much, maybe more than you had missed him. The scent of your shampoo hit him, and it made him want to crumble.

If there was one man you trusted, it was him. So, of course, you went along. Not only had he just argued with his asshole father, he hadn’t gotten to fuck you in months. And jerking off in jail wasn’t optimal, making him a hundred times more pent up than you, who just had to open your nightstand drawer and go at it.

Tommy pressed his crotch against your ass, making you feel how hard he was and had been ever since you opened the front door. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist, holding you tight to him as he ground his clothed cock against you.

His hand traveled up to your tits, squeezing them harshly before moving to shimmy down your pants. Once your clothes hit the floor, you could hear the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you and the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Tommy didn’t waste any time before pulling your underwear to the side and burying himself inside you.

He breathed a quick sigh of relief. He was home in his apartment and home in his girl; he couldn’t think of a better place to be. But once he took his next breath, the anger rushed back, and he slammed into you.

Tommy's hand crawled up your shirt and held onto one of your breasts, kneading it in his palm. His chest was flush against your back as he quickly thrust in and out of you. The sound of skin slapping, your moans, and Tommy's heavy breathing and grunts bounced around the room.

You turned your head around, capturing Tommy in a kiss. Desperate and messy, but how could it be anything else when you had missed each other so? And how could Tommy be happy with just fucking in the hallway? He turned you around, picked you up, and walked the short distance to the bedroom. He needed to fuck his anger out properly.

He threw you onto the bed and turned you on your stomach. His hand went around your waist and pulled you up on your knees, while your head stayed down in the sheets. Once again, you felt Tommy stretch you out and pound into you like you were a ragdoll. With one hand on your hip and the other pushing down your head, he had you seeing stars.

You gripped the sheets with all your strength and moaned cries with each move he made. He pulled your hips into him, making you fuck yourself on him, meeting his thrusts. Tommy's hands were rough and strong, hurting you with the anger in which he held onto you.

Once you came around him, Tommy followed not long after. You felt your insides get all warm, both from your orgasms and from his cum pumping into you.

He let go of you and pulled out, letting you fall down onto the bed. A gentle kiss was placed on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Tommy whispered against your skin. You turned around to face him, grabbed his stubbled face in your hands, and smiled. “I’m just glad to have you back.” You kissed again, sweeter now, passionate in the loving way.

Tommy laid his head next to yours and allowed you to run your hands through his grown-out buzzcut, petting him like a dog or a guinea pig. You snuggled into his chest, breathing in your boyfriend’s scent. It wasn’t long after that you heard light snores coming from him; finally, he could sleep in peace. You grabbed a blanket and buried both of you beneath it. Your boyfriend was back, and the place was a home again.