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readers on wattpad are so disrespectful like bitch i just spent an entire week working my ass off for this chapter, can you not pick up your motherfucking finger and vote at least???

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there's something about these photos that make me feral.

like imagine sitting stop those thick, muscular thighs as he pounds into your cunt from below. imagine splaying your fingers wide across the hard plane of his tanned chest as his big, veiny arms hold you up when your body fails to. he would fuck you so good, rough you up until the apex of your legs is numb with pleasure.

and let's be real, sam is a strong man. he rarely stops at one round. when its clear you can hold yourself up no longer, sam will easily manhandle you onto the bed—face down, ass up.

he's twice your size and stronger, and nothing reiterates that better than the slam of his heavy balls against your abused pussy. his thrusts will get sloppier as he nears his release, fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips—gripping, marking, using your body to tip himself over the edge.

and with a loud groan, he'll empty his balls inside your cunt, filling you up.

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THIS IS SO CUTE OMGGGG

Imagine Dean having to help you undress after an injury and cuddling with him afterwards.

TW- mentions of injuries, fluffff.

"There you go, sweetheart," Dean smiled as he helped you descend the final stair. He kept a steady hand at the small of your back, ready to catch you if you falter.

The recent hunt took a lot out of you. You had broken your wrist, sprained your ankle, not to mention the horrible headache making your head throb.

The first thing Dean did after you two killed the monster was rush you to the hospital. He stayed with you all night, making sure you were comfortable. After being discharged, he brought you home, picking up your favourite chinese takeout on the way.

He would've carried you up the stairs, but the plaster on your hand would've made it painfully uncomfortable. Thus, you had to walk all the way down to your room with his help.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked you, helping you sit on your bed.

You shook your head, half-lying. The painkillers had dulled the pain, but it still hurt like a bitch.

"Liar," he rolled his eyes, kissing the top of your head gently. "You need to change, okay?"

"It's kinda impossible to do with..." You held up your arm, watching realization dawn on his face. "Unless you'll help me,"

Dean paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Ofcourse," His hands gripped the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and rolling it over your head. "There you go,"

His eyes fell on your now exposed skin, your heart beginning to race in your chest. Dean averted his eyes, reminding himself to be respectful. He helped you stand up, undoing the buttons of your jeans in a matter of half a second As his fingers undid the zipper, you held back a shudder, focusing your attention on his face instead of where his hands were on your body.

Being as gentle as ever, Dean pulled them down, falling to his knees. You supported yourself on his shoulders, trusting him to not let you fall as he helped you out of it.

He made you sit back on the bed, picking out some clothes for you from you closet. You couldn't help but grin at what he picked out. A pair of shorts and his t-shirt. The one you kept for days you felt like wearing something baggy and more comfortable.

"Figured they'd be easier to function in," he said, falling to his knees in front of you again. You blushed as he spread your legs apart just a little bit to help you put on the shorts.

You held your arms up for him to let his shirt glide over your upper body, falling down just above your knees. It smelled exactly like him, warming you from the inside out.

"I like it," Dean smiled, eyes roaming over your fully clothed body. "You look nicer in my clothes than I do,"

"I don't know... You look pretty good in them standing over there," you bit your lip, clearing your throat almost instantly. "Cuddle?"

He looked horrified, wiggling his finger at you. "Oh no,"

"Oh yes!"

"Noooo,"

"Pleaseeee," you gave him the best puppy eyes you could muster, doing a little victory dance when he gave in.

Dean chuckled. "Alright, alright. Don't hurt yourself now,"

He tucked you in, disappearing out of the room for a few minutes. You waited for him as he returned, having changed into a t-shirt and sweats. He climbed in after you, switching off the lights. You rolled onto your side, deciding on a comfortable position.

Dean inched closer to you, snaking his arm around your waist. His face was right against yours, the light scruff tickling your ear and making you giggle.

"This good?" He softly asked, breathing into the crook of your neck.

"Perfect," you mumbled happily, welcoming a dreamless sleep in his arms. And you meant it when you said it.

He truly was perfect.

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Hound in an alleyway | Damon Salvatore x reader

Warnings: non-con, Damon can't take rejection, p in v sex, oral (male recieving), anal sex, degradation, minors dni!!!

Summary: If you won't give your affections willingly, Damon decided he will have to take it by force.

THIS IS AN EXTREMELY DARK PIECE, PLEASE INTERACT AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Damon Salvatore was a sex god.

He could crack the whip and every girl would chorus, how high? He knew that. You knew that. Everyone did. Never in his one hundred and seventy something years of life had he needed to make an effort to pursue someone as he had done with you.

Most would just come running.

The first time you met him was in a cafeteria with Bonnie and Caroline. You were trying to console the sad blonde. He was the mysterious stranger sitting opposite you. Your eyes had met, only for a moment, before you pulled away.

The second time was in your school ground. You were practicing for the cheer team with your friends when a chevy pulled up into the school's driveway. You remember your eyes nearly falling out of your socket as Caroline got out of the car, placing a kiss on the older man's lips. He sent a wink your way, which you ignored. 

His hand on Caroline's leg in the Gilbert living room had bile rise up in your throat. That was when you found out from Bonnie that he didn't have a good relationship with his brother. And by the fourth time you met, Damon Salvatore had turned from a creep to a pyschopath. 

He had hurt Caroline. Your childhood best friend. Elena's memory might not work as well, but how could you forget? How could you accept any interest he threw your way?

You didn't want him, and it hurt. It hurt him. It made his blood boil. It clouded his senses. What had he done to get your rejection? Damon wanted you, so why couldn't he have you? 

And if you wouldn't willingly accept his affections, then Damon Salvatore would take it by force. 

It felt nothing more than a child's play to lure you into his trap. To follow you into the dark alleyway. You should've know better than to roam around by yourself past midnight. What if some man took advantage of you? Guess you weren't as smart as he thought you were.

He adored the way your eyes welled up when he backed you into a corner. Your lips pouting, spilling out pleas fruitlessly as he tore the clothes from your body. You trembled as he cupped your pussy, plunging a finger into your wet heat — then two, stretching you out.

It belonged to him. You belonged to him.

Your knees dug into the cold concrete as he forced you onto the ground. One hand working his belt open, the other had you by your hair. His thick cock jumped out as his jeans hit the ground, angry red tip dripping precum.

Damon pushed your head down on his cock until your nose was resting snug against the curly hairs at the bottom. He gave a deep groan, feeling the warm embrace of your mouth around his cold cock. You kept your mouth open for him like an obedient whore, letting him fuck your mouth like his personal pocket pussy.

He ignored the way you gaged and choked, bruising a spot at the back of your throat. Spit pooled from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. "Now be a good girl and suck daddy's balls," he directed you towards the base of his member.

You shook your head no, refusing to meet his eyes. You had never felt so humiliated in your life. Why weren't you trying to get away? Why couldn't you run?

Damon rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to go and drag your pretty little blonde bestfriend here? Or Maybe Elena? I'd love to kill two birds with one stone."

You obeyed at the threat, sucking on his balls, one by one. You teased the little slit between the two, desperate to get it over with. They were heavy against your chin, so full of cum and throbbing. You thrashed against him when you feel him jerk his cock hard and fast above your face. Slapping at his thighs, trying to push him off you. But all your efforts are futile; Thick ropes of cum land on your face, mixing with the tears.

"Good girl. Now turn around," he demanded and you did, pushing down the bile rising in your throat.

In no time, he had you onto your fours. A foot pressed to the back your head, keeping you down on the dirty ground as he entered you. "Shit sweetheart, look at that cunt sqeezing my cock so well," he hummed in approval, pushing out, then pushing in with force.

You could only manage to gasp with each thrust, your knees scraping against the concrete. He started to fuck you relentlessly, pounding your pussy red.

"This is what you wanted, didn't you? To be fucked like a dirty slut? You wanted my cock didn't you?" His hand lands on your ass hard, making you whimper.

"Yes," You yell, feeling his cock deep inside you. You were leaking down your quivering thighs, letting him split you in half like a rag doll. His balls pressed against your clit with each thrust, the sound of slick skin slapping echoing through the silent alleyway.

"Fucking slut," he gritted his teeth, hips pounding into yours at a supernatural speed. Your legs were numb from his assualt, spreading out until you're laying completely against the ground. You felt him soread your cheeks apart, watching his cock disappear and reappear from your abused hole. With a shudder, he spilled his cum inside you, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to contain himself.

When you felt him pull out, you thought it was over. But he wasn't done with you yet. He kept fucking you on the cold concrete — thanks to his vampiric stamina — shooting load after load of his seed into your womb. And when he was bored with your pussy, he'd play with your puckered hole. He would grab your face backwards by your hair and pound you like a bitch while you scream.

Now that he got you, it wouldn't be fair to let you leave so soon, wouldn't it?