#and it worked ;w; look at them... babies..... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babygorewhore · 2 days

Text

I’m talking now.

You decide to push Rafe’s buttons. W. C less than 1k.

Warnings! Choking! Male masturbation! Spitting! Daddy kink! Brat taming! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

My first blurb of Dolly and Morgy’s writing game! Please join us and tag us!

“Yeah, okay!” You roll your eyes and return to typing away on your phone as you drown out Rafe. You knew it was a dangerous game, being a brat to him like this but you truly wanted to make him break.

He had just got home after work, still in his suit and tie, he looked at you with a bewildered expression. “Are you okay?” You look up from your mobile.

“Yup! Super!” You bite at him and look down. Your heart starts racing as silence fills the air but then finally you hear his footsteps retreat. Damn, you’d have to push even harder especially considering he had been trying to work on his temper lately to be a better boyfriend.

Minutes went by and Rafe returned, wearing a t- shirt and gray sweatpants and he settled on the couch next to you but you still remained on your phone aimlessly scrolling. It was hard to ignore him but you contained the urge to peer up at him.

“So…how was your day, baby girl?” He asks and you sigh.

“Fine. You?” Your short reply made him bristle but he told you about his day but you turned away from him, nestling your body against the cushion.

“Okay. What the hell is going on? Did I do something?” Rafe demands and you scoff, folding your arms. Your back is still facing him on the couch. “No, Rafe. What would make you think that?” You felt your body turn, his hand on your shoulder and he moves you so you’re sitting up. Facing him.

“Listen. We don’t do this. We don’t ignore each other. If something happens, you tell me.” He raises his eyebrows to make sure you hear him but you sigh and look at your nails. “Hey. Look at me,” he cups your chin and tilts your head up. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” You salute and stand, nudging him off. “Yes, father! Anything you say! God, you’re so bossy! You think because you’re Mr. Rafe Cameron you can say and do whatever you want to whoever you want. And it’s annoying! Like I GET it, Rafe. I’m your girlfriend, not a dog you can bark at!”

Rafe looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “What in the fuck are you talking-“

But you plug your ears and interrupt. “Oh, god will you just stop being so dumb, Rafe? How many ways do I have to explain something to you?”

“STOP! STOP IT!” Rafe bellowed, causing your mouth to immediately close and your eyes to widen. Everything in your body froze as his face went red. “I’m talking now! And you do NOT speak to me like that.”

You had no idea what bravery or stupidity took over you but you gave him a slow and steady smile. “Or what?”

That was it. Rafe wrapped his hand around your throat, throwing you onto the couch and he mounted you. His fingers tightened as he leaned down, teeth gritted and his eyes burned. “You’re going to fucking regret this, sweetheart.” He promised as his other hand rips off your shorts, dragging off your panties along with it but instead of ripping them, he brings them to his mouth. “Not gonna cum in you. Only good girls get daddy’s cum in their desperate pussies.”

He licks the center of the lace, moaning at the taste coating his tongue as your hands try and bring him down but his strength overpowers you as he keeps you still. “Not so tough now, are you?” He mocks as you whimper around his grip as he moves to cover your mouth with his palm. Rafe licks another stripe up your underwear before he reaches down, shifting his sweatpants down and showing his hard on through his boxers. He wraps your panties around his hand, sticking them inside his underwear and takes his cock in his fist. He moves so your bare cunt is beneath.

“Daddy-“ You manage underneath his hand but he pushes down harder, stroking his dick faster and he moves your legs apart wider with his knee.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to beg now, pretty baby. You were a bad girl and bad girls get punished.” Rafe’s precum leaks and drips onto your pussy as you tremble watching him jerk himself off with your underwear, “such a fucking whore, huh? Needed my attention so bad you pissed me off?”

Rafe was close, jerking his hips into his hand as you whined underneath him and he let go of your mouth. Sliding his hand to your hair and he pulled your head back. “Open your fucking mouth, greedy little slut.” You do and he spits inside, “aw you do know how to listen.” He taps your cheek a few times before bursting into his palm and fingers.

He moans loudly and smashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss, a mash of teeth and tongue. Rafe slaps your cunt before shoving in his dripping cum inside your entrance before he yanks out his hand with your panties. Rafe shoves them back on your body, up your legs and you gasp at the wet sensation against your pussy.

“You’re gonna wear those as a reminder of what happens when you’re a brat.” Rafe pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of your cunt. “And this is gonna be my little porn when I’m gone. Do you understand?”

You nod with tears in your eyes. “Yes, daddy.”

Rafe smirks and climbs off. “Good. Maybe I’ll reward you later.”

Tagging some moots. @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @oceandriveab @rafescurtainbangz @slvt4jamesmarch @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @redhead1180

195 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 1 day

Text

the dollhouse w/ choi jongho

jongho wasn’t quite expecting you to be crying when he came home from work, but there you sit, cross legged on the floor sniffling softly. your back faces him, and you’re too caught up in your emotions to hear him softly close the door. the thud of his shoes against the floor doesn’t seem to grasp your attention, nor does the soft pitter patter of his socked feet against the hardwood floor. it’s not until he reaches your side that you notice him.

your eyes are wet when they meet his, all red and irritated from the constant flow of tears. he’d coo over you if you didn’t look so miserable, but he fears it would only make you cry more. instead he takes a seat by your side. his knee bumps gently against yours as he folds his legs, and his hand comes to rest on your thigh, palm up in a silent offer. with a choked hiccup, you take it. your hand, clammy and warm, slips into his like two puzzle pieces slotting together. he squeezes it softly.

“what’s up?” he hums as he leans against the couch, head tilting so he can keep a close watch over your face. it makes him feel better to see you when you’re like this. you don’t always tell him how you’re feeling, but your face is pretty much an open book. you wear your heart on your sleeve in that respect. “is it anything i can help with?”

you shake your head and draw your lip between your teeth. your cheeks puff out slightly as you gnaw on your skin, and he can’t help but sigh. it’s honestly cruel how adorable you look like this. he cant exactly fawn over you when you’re moments away from breaking down. thank god he’s as mentally strong as he is; anyone else would have snapped by now.

“my mum sent me a photo of my old dollhouse,” you whimper, voice shaky and pathetic. it would just be so easy for him to scoop you up into his lap and dote on you… so, so easy.

“and why’s that made you cry, honey?” he holds himself back, sticking to rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. the moment he knows you’re fine, he’ll snatch you up in his grasp; for now his priority is cheering you up. “is it like… bad memories or something?”

you shake your head before reaching to grab your phone from the table. with your face so puffy and red, the face ID struggles to recognise you and with hands so shaky, you can’t type your passcode in. you let out a frustrated huff before jongho pulls the device from your fingers and unlocks it for you. it opens to a picture of an old dollhouse, all pretty and done up, albeit a little dusty. he passes the phone back to you, unsure of what to make of the image.

“i feel so evil,” you murmur, “i just… shut it one day and then never played with it again. i abandoned it, jongho. how could i just abandon it?”

jongho can’t lie, he’s a little taken aback. he feels as though he wants to laugh at your statement, but you seem genuinely distraught by it. this hunk of wood that you’d put into storage one day because you didn’t have a use for it anymore; you really felt as though you’d abandoned it. he hides his adoring laughter behind a hum, bringing your hand up to his face for a kiss so he won’t be tempted to smile. how he’d managed to find someone so pure, he’ll never know.

“i don’t think you abandoned it, honeybun,” he hums against your hand. he gives it one more kiss for good measure before pulling it away. “would you say i abandoned all my race car toys when i outgrew those?” you nod, and this time he can’t help his laughter. you’re just too sweet. “no, baby. just because we outgrow things, doesn’t mean we abandon them when we have to leave them behind. you outgrew your baby clothes but you didn’t abandon them, did you?”

“i guess not,” you shrug and jongho thinks it’s just as cute as everything else you do.

“and your ex boyfriend; you outgrew him, but you wouldn’t say you’d abandoned him, right?” you shake your head, “good—i think it’d kill me if you did.” this time you laugh. it’s sad, and sounds more like it’s being forced from you than it does natural, but jongho is happy to hear it anyway.

it’s his sign.

he pulls his hand from your sweaty one and uses it to grip onto your waist instead. you squeak as he tugs you, but you don’t resist at all. you let him tug you into his lap like you weigh nothing at all. you let him wrap his arms round your waist and shove his face into your neck. it’s hard to stop the giggles when he’s rubbing his nose against your pulse point, but then he pulls away and kisses it instead.

“my precious baby,” he coos, “so sweet…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #jongho x reader #jongho fluff

150 notes · View notes

mrsmandalorian · 2 days

Text

espresso

-- pedro x singer!f!reader -- one shot or second part to nonsense

summary: pedro gives you song inspiration.

nonsense/main masterlist / word count: 2.7k

warning: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, starts w smut!!!, and fluff!, eating out, p in v, fingering, nipple play, sexual teasing, pet names (mi amor, princesa, daddy, baby, baby girl, angel), this man is obsessed with you (in a good way), language, nightclub setting

a/n: thank you so much for the love on Nonsense! here is the second part with sabrina carpenter's new song espresso! much love to you all! 🫶🏼 maddie

Schedules usually never work out the way they are supposed to. But luckily, for once, they aligned perfectly. It worked so well that now the sunrise is peaking through the blinds of your New York apartment, and a head full of brown curls is between your legs as a wake-up call.

Your hands are entangled among the curls, gasping with pleasure. Pedro vigorously glides his tongue against your slit. You both were still nude from the previous night of pleasure that resulted from a late “booty call.” You arched your hips in pleasure as his large hands gripped your thighs tightly, gently yanking your legs apart so his broad shoulders sat against you.

You push the side of your face into the pillows and let out satisfied moans into the cushions. The absence of the warm sensation left your mound as Pedro glares up at you and runs his tongue along his lips. “ Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear your sweet noises for me, princesa,” he commanded as his hand reached up to your chin. His large hand squeezed and yanked your face to meet his eyes, meeting his dark amatory eyes with your blissful doe eyes. “Let daddy hear those heavenly noises. Are we clear?” His demanding voice caused you to nod in his hand, “Use your words, angel.”

“Yes, daddy,” you softly muttered as you tried to catch your breath before he continued. His hand from your chin gently moves down your body to grasp your back, and his lips leave a trail of kisses down to your breast. His tongue flicks your nipple as his eyes look up at your reaction. He takes your breast into his mouth as his tongue shows attention to your nip. The sensitivity of his actions causes you to whimper in pleasure. “P,” you let out as your fingers grip the sheets above your head.

He lets out a grunt as one of his large hands skims down your stomach to your mound. He palms your wet pussy and teases his thick fingers against you. He takes his mouth off your breast and moves his scruffy face down your body. He glided his tongue from your chest to the top of your clit, causing your body to squirm slightly. “So wet for me, baby,” he mutters as he moves back in between your legs. “Such a sweet, sweet pussy,” he mumbles against your lips as he starts to kiss along the lips of your pussy, then follows with his tongue where his kisses are laid. His tongue frantly slides against you as he grips your thighs firmly.

Your fingers intertwine into his curls as he continues to savor your wetness, letting out whines of pleasure. You feel his eyes on you as he continues and sucks on your lips, which makes you yelp out of shock and pleasure. After a while, he pulls off of your mound and leans back up to your face as he gives you a kiss of hunger and passion. You could taste yourself off of his lips, both of you moaning into the kiss as his fingers pumped into you. Your core is overwhelmed with pleasure as he continues. His lips leave yours, “such a good fuckin’ girl for daddy,” he grunts as his fingers coax you into your release. You come against his fingers with a slight squeal of “fuck, Daddy. I’m coming!”

His throbbing member was rubbing against your thighs as he leaned up, kissing you. You move your body against him so his cock is grinding against your soft skin and his. Pedro released a small moan from the contact, reaching up to dramatically lick his fingers off you with an “mhm.” His huge hands grip your inner thighs to lay them down, running his rigid, long member against your wet lips. You both hissed in pleasure from the contact, desperately grinding against one another. “Feel this? It’s because of you, princess,” he mumbles against your lips, causing you to make a needy plea.

Your bodies move in unison as he lines himself up with your entrance, abruptly plunging deep into you. One of his large hands grips your waist to lift your body as he thrusts deeper into you. Your eyes meet as his hips get into an unrelenting tempo.

The throbbing and overwhelming from your pussy makes your legs wrap around his waist as he continues to stimulate you. You have orgasmed more in the last 12 hours since the last time you had the pleasure (literally) of seeing Pedro.

“P,” you let out a moan as one of his hands worked up to grab the back of your neck firmly. His thrust is steady and deep as you throw your back in pleasure. “Faster, Daddy. I don’t think I will make it much longer.”

His eyes twinkled with mischievous thoughts from your words as his pace increased slightly faster. He grips your body tight and firmly as he pounds into you with desperation to please you. His hand moves down between your bodies as he massages your core with his thick fingers.

Your legs snaked around him start to shake vicariously as you are overcome with pleasure from his pace and fondling. You feel his pace become slightly off rhythm as his thrust becomes faster to help push himself over the edge.

Before you know it, he becomes a moaning mess as he pulls out frantically. He pumps his member with his fist as white ropes shoot into your stomach. “Sorry, princesa,” he mutters as he catches his exhausted body from falling on you. He brings his clean hand up to your face and pulls your face into his for a sloppy, sweet kiss.” You were such a good girl, mi amor. So beautiful.”

You smirk in satisfaction (for multiple reasons) and gently kiss him back as he leans against you. Pedro walks into the bathroom to retrieve something to clean you with. He returns with an old towel and takes time to help clean himself off of you. “Thank you, P,” you mutter as you cup his scruffy face and kiss him passionately.

The kiss was cut short as Pedro’s phone started to ring loudly from his pants from last night. You are the one who has to pull away and urge him to answer it. He huffs and grabs it quickly to answer it. His manager reminded him of his virtual interview with a significant morning show to promote his latest project and successes. He talks with his manager for a while to receive any information to avoid or encourage.

After he got off the phone with a low groan, he didn’t mind interviews at all, but it’s interrupting your time together. “I’ve gotta do a virtual interview for a morning show in about twenty minutes. I only have the clothes I came in and my phone,” he nervously chuckles as he runs his hands through his hair.

You pull him close to you to try to calm his anxieties.“You might have a t-shirt here, and you can always use my laptop,” you reassure him as he leans into your touch. The two of you quickly shower together and prepare him for his close-up. Even though you both were in a hurry, there were plenty of jokes and stolen kisses in between all the madness. You find an older t-shirt he had left her on one of his visits.

“Do you wear this when I’m not here? It smells like you,” he asks as he pulls the shirt away from his nose and pulls it over his head. The heated blush on your face gives away your answer as you pull on a comfortable outfit.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you tease at him as you help him set up a spot to sit in your dining room. He leans over and kisses you as he sits down with the computer. You make yourself comfortable on the couch as he calls the production people at the studio and gets ready for technology checks. Every once in a while, he sends you a wink or blows you a kiss. His small gestures made you lightly blush as you started working as well. You were working on a new single and discussing details with your song production group.

Eventually, it was the start time for the original interview with the morning show. You keep quiet as you watch him interact with the interviewers. He was kind to everyone he met and made everyone comfortable with his big brown eyes and loud laugh. They discussed his movie briefly until one of the interviewers jokes with him, “You seem very cheery for this early in the morning, Pedro! You must have had those six shots of espresso early this morning.”

Pedro chuckles softly, “I have not had a drop of caffeine this morning. It’s shocking for me not to. Just had a productive morning and night,” he jokes back at the interview with a hidden twinkle in his eyes. He glances at you with a slight smirk, but not too noticeable.

This interaction started your songwriting gears as you think back to your memories.

“That’s great, though! If you don’t mind us asking, Pedro, where are you now? Are you still filming, or are you finally having a break?” They asked him after they discussed more promotional information. Pedro runs his fingers through his hair, biting his lip slightly.

“Oh, I’m in New York, but only for the night! I came to see my dear friend as a surprise,” he says with a huge smile on his face. He quickly glances at you, trying not to blush. He was obsessed with you—more than either one of you wanted to admit. You had thought he was already in town.

This man traveled with you from Los Angeles to New York for a booty call.

Pedro had called you after rehearsal at 2 AM to see what you were up to. You thought he would have only done this if he was in town. He only came with his clothes and a small tote bag with snacks and gifts for you, besides a phone charger, deodorant, and toothbrush.

He was obsessed.

It was finally time for your latest song release, Espresso. It was 11:58 PM in Los Angeles at a club with all your team and friends, including Pedro, who is now the muse of your music. You were all looking at the clock, excited that your song would drop to the world. Your producers said it should be the song of the summer.

You were set to perform as soon as midnight for the crowd of fans coming to your secret release party. Your stylist fitted you with another elegant and sexy outfit. The stage manager hands you a microphone to go out onto the stage. A minute before midnight, you give your friends one last look as you walk out to the stage.

“How is everyone doing tonight? Are we excited for the song of the summer?” You joked with your fans as you walked into the center of the stage. The audience let out a loud response. “Thank you so much for coming out tonight. I won’t be here without you amazing people! Here we go!” There was a considerable clock display on the screens behind you to count down. The audience started to count down from five as you and your dancers got into position.

You haven’t shared what this song was about or said with your fans or friends besides your music friends. Even Pedro had only heard a snippet of it. As you said, it was a surprise.

The lights dim as the clock hits a second. You shake off your nerves as your crowd starts screaming and hollering.

“Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso”

The lights were on the performance you and your team were pulling off. Your dancing was very flirtatious and spicy as you continued.

“I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy And he won't stop calling When they act this way I know I got 'em”

Your eyes met Pedro’s as he stood up on the balcony to see all of you. His look gave you more confidence to show off to your fans.

“Too bad your ex don't do it for ya Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya I know I Mountain Dew it for ya That morning coffee, brewed it for ya One touch and I brand newed it for ya”

You start to sway your hips harder and steal glances at your lover every once in a while. You know that by the end of tonight, there will be confirmations about your not-so-secret relationship.

You heard some fans scream louder as you continued the song, wondering if they were putting two and two together in the lyrics and the gossip circulating around you.

"Is it that sweet? I guess so"

You put on your best fake confused face and shrugged as you made direct eye contact with him for these following verses.

“I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey P (it is bee, but imagination), come and get this pollen.”

Some of the crowd let out a roar as they heard the lyrics come out of your lips. You blush hard, continue to sing, dance your heart out through the rest of the song, and finish with a giant grin as you try to catch your breath.

“Los Angeles, you have been great as always! Thank you for coming out to hear the new release! I hope you guys have fun streaming it all summer. There are free t-shirts, drinks, and snacks for all of you! Enjoy yourselves, but please be careful!” You thanked your fans and touched hands with the few who were close. You blew kisses and hopped backstage towards the VIP area.

As you walked backstage, you received much love and praise from your team, family, and friends. Then those magical brown eyes found yours in the crowd of people; you lightly jogged over to him and hugged him. You smiled up at him as he gave you praises that you hardly heard before you smashed your lips with his. It took him a second to realize, but he moved his large hand to your cheek and embraced you.

Everyone went almost silent whenever it happened. Some knew, but some just thought you were mutual friends. Luckily, this was only seen by the people backstage.

You pull away from the kiss with a cheesy grin on your face. “You might be the obsessed one, princess. You have now written two songs about me.” He jokes with you as his hands fall to your waist, holding you against him. Before you could come back with a comeback, he follows up with, “By the way, I think you know good and well that I am not a boy.”

thank you for reading! 🤍

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

154 notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 3 days

Note

Haunted by Beyonce and Joel Miller

ily x

Hey, baby! Hope you like it xoxo

Song: Haunted by Beyoncé

Pairing: QZ!Joel Miller x afab!reader

W/C: 974

Warnings: toxic relationship, slapping, rough sex, manhandling, unprotected piv sex, choking, mean joel, mean reader, hate sex, stalking (kind of?)

Haunted

You’ve been watching him since the break off. Not a break up, because you were never really together, but a break off because you both know whatever you had shouldn’t be happening. The rough and feral sex, the toxic quips, the pain and anger channeled through each other’s bodies. Working nine to five every day just to stay alive, and then coming home to beat your misery and frustration into each other’s broken and battered souls.

It was never love, never sweet affection or time taken to check in. No pleasantries or time spent without his cock inside of you or your hands ripping and tearing at clothes and skin. Just fury and pure need. You and Joel Miller do not like each other, which is why it’s so unfortunate to be addicted to each other’s bodies.

You watch him walk down his hall now, and you can see the difference in his posture. The tension in his shoulders and the clench of his fist. You know that if you looked into his eyes, you would see a fire burning, yearning for destruction and pain—destruction and pain that he no longer has you to unleash within.

You’ve been following him like a shadow, your body drawn to his in a primal way. And you know that he’s been following you, too. You’ve been haunting him, and he’s been haunting you. You’re onto him, you know that he must be onto you, too.

You’ve ignored it—resisted it—enough. You start to stride after him. You don’t stop, unafraid to let your quick steps be heard, and you can tell the exact second he recognises them. He keeps walking, but instead of going further down to his room, he stops in front of your door, keeping his back to you.

There are no words said, no glances exchanged, as you reach him and unlock the door. You open it to let him in, and then step inside yourself. He pins you to the door the second it shuts behind you, one hand wrapping threateningly around your throat as the other comes down across your cheek, forcing your face to the side. He brings his face level with yours, less than an inch between you. Hatred burns in his eyes, and you’re sure he can see it reflecting in your own.

You surge forward and hungrily seize his lips in yours, your hands coming to pull at the shirt over his broad shoulders, gripping so tightly that you think you may rip the worn fabric. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you growl into him, tasting blood as you keep devouring him.

He rips you from the door and manhandles you over to the couch, throwing you down and then unbuckling his belt. You work on your own pants, getting them off right before he grabs you again and flips you over. You grip the arm of the couch, lifting your ass for him.

He uses one hand to grasp your hip in a bruising grip, tugging you back as he lines the blunt tip of his cock up with your entrance. You let out a strangled groan when he shoves into you with two quick thrusts, the stretch making you grit your teeth. It hurts, but it feels so good. A comforting kind of pain.

He starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, his pelvis against your ass stinging with each thrust. He wraps his hand around the front of your neck again, cutting off your air flow just enough to make you light-headed. You know that it’ll hurt in the morning, but you also know that you’ll savor it.

You get close quickly, as you usually do with him inside of you. Like your body’s been programmed to have such a response. You come around him just as he releases your throat and the air rushes back. Your head drops between your shoulders as you moan, your cunt squeezing around him and making him grunt.

When you come down and gain some semblance of control over yourself, you push back on his hands, forcing him to let you go as you pull yourself off of his cock. He doesn’t protest—he knows what you’re doing. He moves to sit back and then waits until you climb over him, your hips on either side of his.

You sink down on him quickly, your toes curling and your head throwing back when he slams into your cervix. His hands grip your ass and your own go to his face, one around his neck like he had done with you, and the other to his hair, tugging roughly to force him to watch you as you bounce on his cock, the drag of him against your slick walls making you keen.

He holds your gaze, hatred laying thick in the damp air. Your clit rubs against his stomach in this position, stimulating you and starting to build another orgasm. You pull tighter on his hair with every lift of your hips, but he doesn’t flinch even as his dick twitches with the sting.

You snarl as you come, your insides melting as you fall apart on top of him. He comes a second later with a similar expression. You ride out your orgasm, grinding slowly as he empties his load into your pussy, where it belongs.

You don’t waste time to catch your breath before you pull off of him, his limp cock sliding out in a mess. He doesn’t wait either before he gets up and tucks his wet dick into his pants. You lay back on the couch and watch as he makes his way to the door, where he lingers for only a second.

“This is the last time,” he says before shutting the door behind him.

You both know it won’t be.

*****

I walk down the hallway You're lucky The bedroom's my runway Slap me! I'm pinned to the doorway Kiss, bite

It's what you do It's what you see I know if I'm haunting you You must be haunting me

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #pedro pascal smut #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #toxic relationship #rough kink #fic request #beyonce #music #mean joel

77 notes · View notes

i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 day

Text

There will be no order, reason, or rhyme to this. So, sorry. Idk.

C/W ::: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, Draken x F.reader. Totally SFW. I know, right? So weird.

Thinking about Draken coming home late at night from working at the shop. You've been in bed for hours and he's sad that he's missed you.

Again.

But he still showers to get the sweat and grime from the day off of his skin before he comes and climbs into bed behind you. He scrubs his fingernails extra hard, too. He doesn't want you to get the ick after seeing how black they've become from them being buried in motor oil all day.

When he gets into bed, it dips because he's so big. And, truth be told, the bed you two scrimped and saved for isn't all that great. It's just a mattress. No box spring. It's on some pallets that him and some of his boys got from behind the grocery store.

You love it, though. You love it because he made it for you. For your shabby little home.

It wakes you when he slowly rubs his hand from your hips around to your belly. He rests his chin softly on your shoulder and kisses your cheek.

"Hi, babies. Missed you today. What'd you do?" He asked in a soft voice - his nighttime voice. His tired voice.

"Hi, Daddy. We mostly laid around today. My feet and back hurt." You roll onto your other side to face him. His face is like a beacon in the blackest void. You will never not look for it. In this life or the next.

You kiss him on the lips.

"Ahhh! Don't go startin' that shit. 'S how we got in this mess 'n the firs' place. Jesus. You're insatiable." He chuckled, burying his face into your swollen chest. "Get some sleep. You have an appointment in the morning, yeh? I'm going, 'k?"

"Mm-hm," you nodded. Your chin bounced on the top of his head.

He pushed himself up and scooted to the foot of the bed.

"Where you goin'?" You pouted and stuck your hand out for him to take so you could drag him back.

"Gon' rub your feet until you pass out. 'M the asshole who woke up my pregnant girlfriend. G'on, shut your pretty eyes, baby. I'll be right here 'n then I'll lay down."

You almost cried at how sweet he always is to you. No matter how tired or sore he is from his work day. He always seems to put you first.

Neither of you asked for this to happen.

But you're in this together.

"Promise?" You asked, laying back down on the hard bed.

"Have I ever let you down?" He picked up your left foot and gently started to knead your sole.

Little did he know, he has your heart in his hands, too.

@ryuuc00chie @arlerts-angel @kazutora-kurokawa @katkusuo @southside-otaku @bakubunny @darkstarlight82 @viburnt @trevengersprincess

70 notes · View notes

flor4de4amor · 11 hours

Text

im so in love w abby's back.

click here to support palestine!

read before engaging w my work + acc

the way her spin curves and curls. her big broad shoulders that she's worked hard to get. she always sleeps topless, opting to shed that evil sports bra, which hides her pretty chest. allowing you to press kisses to her bare freckled back. waking her up to your soft mewls against her. she grunts softly to the light hitting her face. you giggle seeing that she's now awake.

"fan club's opted to greet me this morning huh?" she turns her head looking at you with that stupid little smirk on her face. you're tempted to kiss it off, if she hadn't called you a fan.

"something or the other." you smile at her, laying your head against her lower back. the dip where here spin curves and melts into her ass.

"sleep alright baby?" she asks, her hand coming to find yours and interlacing them together.

you nod, stroking your thumb over the rough calluses of her palm. "dreamt of you," you tease cheekily.

"nothing too naughty i'd hope," she matches your playful tone. her messy braid falling over her face, though her smile is still wide and bright.

"come look in my panties and check." you threaten her with a wink, grin devouring your face.

"oh," abby heaves. "that's how it is baby?" she suppresses a grin, as she begins to maneuver herself off her front, so she can come check those pretty panties of yours.

116 notes · View notes

pupcuck · 11 hours

Text

(I COULD NEVER BE) YOUR WOMAN !

ft. og4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. crossdressing, force fem, short instance of groping/harassment by some gross man, humiliation, dom!reader, a few misogynistic comments surprisingly not from leon, repressed homosexuality, leon n some unnamed cute guy, r slur is used ONCE by same gross dude, slight angst, implied/past sa very light tho, public sex, dub-con

note. title from white town duh has nothing to do w the fic. um unedited n quite bad not loving this but here u go.. 2000s clubbing.. I also want 2 say r slur is used by some dude who is just awful to leon in this.. not meant to be like . y’know there for shock value lol it’s a word I’ve been called a lot so that would be my last intention. um leon has some misogynistic thoughts but I don’t want them to come across as mine LMFAO I know that I do a very close pov so I don’t want my views to mix with the characters as people usually tend to think. comments n rbs greatly appreciated!

“You hate me,” Leon states like an upset child, one false lash deep into a murky pit he couldn’t even grapple hook his way out of.

“No, baby.” You shake your head, smiling at him like you hate him. “I love you very much.” The other lash is stuck on, black and spidery in spiky kitchen knife points. He blinks and the heaviness does not melt away like sleep. “My sweet girl.”

“You do,” Leon says, he makes a vague gesture towards his attire, scooping nothing but air with his cupped hand, “hate me,” he adds after a second, the words hang heavy in the air like sopping wet laundry or a body from a tree. You’re busy giving him a once over, a small hand lightly grasping his chin to keep his head up. You’ve never held him so gently before, but this is how girls treat other girls, he supposes. With great care.

“What?” You use a lint roller to pick up loose fibre and tricky stray particles of dust. “Because I made you all pretty, honey?” You lean forward, and Leon, besotted, closes his eyes as if you’re going to kiss him. “I just did your makeup, no kisses, Leon.” Of course, that’s right, he forgot, no kisses. You lick your finger and smudge your work to give him that freshly fucked and wanting more appeal.

“Sorry.” He looks at his reflection.

Blink. Blink. Blink. His eyes make a tacky noise, as if each blink is unsticking them.

He looks ridiculous, not even like a drag queen, they are tasteful and deliberate in their art. He looks exactly like what he is - a man in a wig. There is no pretty way to put it because what he is looking at is not very pretty. The wig tickles his neck like a pale whisper. It is shining too brightly in the way all fake things do, plasticky in the buzzing bathroom light. Metallic shimmer dusts his eyelids like crushed stars, iridescent-pearlescent is all the rage nowadays, it’s barely visible past the thick black that lines his eyes like you’re actively trying to worsen his bags and push him into panda territory.

Leon thinks it is a good idea to think of nothing ever again, like ever. If he didn’t have that thought, if he didn’t sit opposite you at the dining table confessional-style, if he shut his mouth and never spoke a word—Then he would not be sitting here closer to tears than he ever has been, fists clenched tight enough to make coal into diamonds.

You thumb the corner of his glossed lips. “Ready?” You ask him, then turn to face him, pulling a smile that is so mean it’s somewhat ugly and out of place on a face like yours. “Don’t speak or you’ll ruin it, ‘kay?”

A bag big enough to carry a lip gloss tube and nothing else dangles on your pinky as you check your face in the mirror, usually your gloss would be in Leon’s breast pocket, or his back pocket. Whatever pocket he has available.

Today he has nothing of the sort, embarrassingly, you place a tube between his pecs and it stays. You tip your head back and laugh at him, swiping it away a moment later. “I’m only joking, Leon.”

A considerable amount of muscle has been dropped since he came back from Spain. Cooking is hard, eating is harder, and he only really makes the effort when you visit. You don’t pry, so it’s only now that he notices, filling out your dress too well, that his edge has almost completely been lost to softness.

And it’s still there—He’s still a man with a dick and balls first and foremost. His arms are big, and his chest juts out in the wrong way. Wrong. It’s all so wrong.

This thought is neutered by your hand on his too-big bicep, fingers curling to his shape as you guide him along the stairs in matching kitten heels, he clutches the bannister for support like he’s going into labour.

Today you drive. “Got to treat you like a princess,” you say, smiling at him. All teeth. You take off your heels and kick them beneath the seat where they’ll surely tangle in the cables.

Leon reclines in his seat, closing his eyes and breathing in and out, two minutes away from inducing labour. Dramatics, y’know? Because he’s a girl today, not because he feels like he is being gutted by a claw machine.

You drive, he tosses and turns and squints at the road ahead to hide his creased brow. You drive, and he wonders what led him to this very moment, what has become of him and his pity party life. But Simon Says and Leon does. You say and Leon follows blindly like a die-hard fucking fan of Jesus would. A disciple, he guesses, but in some way even that is too much credit. At least they were, like, on equal grounds. He’s too passive to be Judas, and too much of an unbeliever to be any of the other ones. He is just some fucking mangey street urchin suckling on the teat of a wild dog that Jesus patted once and cured and would not leave the poor dude alone.

Unfortunately, Leon takes instructions better than he does dick and that is his problem. Yeah, that’s what he was trying to say before it all got away from him.

The bouncer questions nothing, no ID is needed, which is both a relief and an insult to Leon. Does he look that old? This makeup, this dress, this stringy mop of a wig it ages him.

The bass of a thousand beating hearts rips through him.

If Leon was a girl he’d simply kill himself. It hurts too much. The dress is itchy and his chest is sweating and his full face of makeup is melting his skin into goop and his feet are killing him. He’s sorry for all those times he requested a girl keep her stilettos on during sex. He’s sorry to you for buying you shoes on all those anniversaries, birthdays and Christmases. He’s sorry for that time he requested a lap dance in heels on your anniversary, his birthday, and that joint Christmas. He is sorry to every fucking woman for the system that has been put in place that requires them to wear heels to work and to dinner dates and to pick their kids up from preschool.

“Are you hurting, baby?” You place a cool hand on his cheek, feather-light, ensuring you don’t smear his pasty foundation. When he nods, pitiful, you coo at him. “Oh, big ol’ Agent Kennedy, I’m sure you can handle it, sweetie.”

Leon shakes his head again, firmer and sadder. “You can handle it,” you tell him, smiling dropping as fast as it came. A hand comes to rest on his waist then slides upwards along his naked back, courtesy of the open back of his blue dress, gliding over his pronounced shoulder blades. Lily-white and spread sideways like lotus petals or something akin to angel wings.

The two of you end up in a booth with four men and a red-headed girl who is decently pretty. She talks too fast for Leon’s liking, and each time she opens her mouth, which is a lot of fucking times for a long fucking time, her spit flies out and lands on his face in beads.

There is a man who’s tall and strapping in the way Leon likes his men in the private fantasies he keeps hidden in the lonely gallery that is his mind. His experience with dick starts with Jack and ends somewhere before you. Jack taught him how to work a dick, and if Leon were to kiss and tell, he’d tell this man how much he wants to play with it, stroke it and love on it.

(Only if he was a girl, which tonight he is.)

You’re midway through telling a story, leant in for added effect, elbows on the sticky table. “And Leon says, she’s like—“ Your voice fades out.

Another guy, stout and ugly, sort of piggish in the face, asks, “Is it a dude?” He jabs his thumb in Leon’s direction. “That’s a dude's name.”

“What, no.” You frown, breezing over your blunder like fingers on silk. “It’s a nickname, y’know, from when we were kids, ‘cause she looks like a dude.” Laughter lifts into the air like plumes of smoke. Leon feels like he is breathing it in, tiny shards crystallise in his lungs and choke him.

He shouldn’t be humiliated, there is nothing to be humiliated about because he is what you say he is. He’s a dude. But he is humiliated, and it is driving him mad, he has killed himself in a hundred different brutal ways in his head while you talk.

“She don’t talk, she got a problem?” He says in his nasty, thick voice. “Is she retarded?” It sounds like there’s phlegm lodged in his throat all the fucking time. “Feminist?” Good lord.

“Oh my gosh, like, I don’t think you can say that,” the ginger smiles nervously.

“She just gets a little scared around guys.” Your smile is so cold it chills him to his core. “Bad experiences, y’know?”

Not exactly wrong. Leon is weary of shared showers, he is weary of urinals, of stalls with busted locks, and he is weary of other men, but he would never say it and he would never show it. But now, sitting here as a girl, as a woman, he trembles.

“Oh, yeah?” The dude sits back, spreads his legs to accommodate a dick he likely doesn’t have. Then he leaves it at that.

You kiss him to make up for the silence, you grope his tits—his chest through the fabric of his dress, you raise your Von Dutch tee to show off your cute heart-shaped pasties. None of it is for Leon, it’s for the guys sitting in front of you, because as a woman you exist for men, to perform and flash your panties and act like you’re into it.

Which you are, he knows your pussy is wet ‘cause of that look on your face, eyes glinting like marbles, you’re getting off on him being stretched past his limits.

An hour later, you push him onto the dance floor, watching through throngs of people and Leon is met with the pig-faced guy, he’s pink and sweaty like one too. Leon denies every advance he lays out. Then fingers splay over the round of Leon’s ass, and his flesh is gripped so tight it mottles how dicks purple.

The guy says something and everything and nothing but fluff. You uppity slut—You think you can—Speak up—Y’know, even the ugliest bitches have wet little pussies between their legs—

Leon really does not.

Leon could push him off. He could break his fingers, disable him, kill him in the middle of this godforsaken dance floor. But he just stands there and stares like a real woman.

(But he has always stood there and looked death right in the eye, it comes hurtling, barrelling into him at full speed like a shit-caked asteroid and all he does is stand there. He’s not had the energy to get back up lately.)

The handsome guy, the one that is taller than Leon, the one that he likes a lot, steps in and saves him. And this is what it must feel like, to be swept off your feet. To be princess carried and loved sweetly by someone worn and rough.

Christ, this wig has a mind of its own. Infecting Leon’s psyche with its mushy bullshit. He wants to go home. He wants a beer and a drag from your cigarette. He doesn’t smoke, but he will tonight.

“Are you alright?” The handsome man somehow manages to shout gently over the music. He is so nice, and so handsome it feels wrong to look at him. Leon thinks he knows, and when this man smiles, Leon knows that he knows for certain. “I won't tell.” He grins down at Leon again, soft and brilliant and kind.

Leon passes you on the way to the bathroom, he tells you that it’s getting stuffy in here, then he leaves to get stuffed with cock in the ladies room as all good boyfriends do.

The click of heels makes him suck in a breath, he plants two hands on the broad chest in front of him, tightens around the dick in him so hard he might cut off all blood flow, salty fingers in his mouth keep him from crying out.

Leon knows it’s you from the clink of your bangles. The source of chatter is the red-headed girl, you likely motion for her to be silent—He counts to twenty then meets your eye under the gap in the door. He whimpers around the fingers in his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, there’s totally someone in there,” you gush to the other girl who gasps, “I saw, like, two pairs of shoes, really cute heels.”

“She’s luckyyy, I hope she’s getting it good,” she sighs, “hey, where’d your friend go by the way, the blonde one?”

“Leon?” You seem to pause, weighing up your options. “She’s a total fucking slut.”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, I bet she’s gone home with some guy already—I mean, she might be in that fucking stall, wouldn’t put it past her.”

In the stall, Leon shifts, back bumping the wall as he pushes his hips out, grinding down on his dick like he needs this over and done with.

“I could never do that…” The redhead says, “It’s, like, so icky in here…”

“I don’t think Leon minds,” you muse, “I mean, like, don’t tell her I told you, but she gets on her knees in club bathrooms, like, she’s dirty.”

“Gross!”

“I know!” You burst into giggles. “I told her that’s, like, way too far! I mean they don’t even clean these places properly, they send some underpaid dude with a Kleenex out to do the job.”

Leon’s knees ache with the guilt of sucking dick on his knees in a Kleenex-cleaned club bathroom. The dick inside of him throbs, a single push and it spills into the rubber.

The click of heels fades out as you and your newfound friend exit the bathroom.

“You let your friend talk about you like that?” The man asks, smiling still.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Leon says meekly in a voice that is not his. He has never been meek or scared or anything of the sort. Leon has guts, too many maybe, they make him stupid. That’s what he gets by on. That’s why Leon returns home. Because he tries not to make a place for feelings.

“I know.” The guy shrugs, he spins Leon around so his back is facing the mirrors. Leon twists his head to look. The striated planes of his back. Your nails in his skin.

“Oh.”

Leon gets in your car and apologises.

“Aw.” You pinch his cheek, uncaring of your heavy hand now that his lipstick is smeared in rings around another man’s dick. “I know, baby, my girl just wanted to have fun.”

My girl, my girl, my girl. He’s not your girl. You’re his girl, and he’s your man and that’s the way Leon likes it. He likes to drape his arm over your shoulders in place of a coat when it gets windy, he likes to pay the bill on dates, he likes to drive you around and he likes to hold your shopping bags. Because that is good and swell and—It’s normal.

You drive him home without saying a word, letting him sit and drown in the weight of his problems until you help him inside, he’s hindered by 1.5 inch heels.

When Leon tries to take his dress off, you stop him. “Princess,” you coo, his teeth rot and he smells the cavities, “I want to play with you.”

“Not like this,” he begs, gazing up at you through his false lashes.

“Yes, like this, baby.” You sit him down on the couch, you take off your heels and then bend down to unbuckle the strap on his. That’s his job. Leon should be doing that for you, a tender grip on your ankle as he threads the metal through the needled holes. “Look at these.” You stand back up, taking the seat beside him, one of your small hands grabbing the underside of his thighs and spreading him open, a leg thrown over yours. “These cute tits,” you say, kissing his neck as you shove your hand down the low-cut neck of his dress, grabbing at his chest in pinching handfuls.

“Don’t call them that,” Leon says quietly, his ears pink like the pucker of his hole.

“I’ll say what I want, princess, okay?” You kiss him hard, teeth knocking into his and your wet tongue running over his front teeth like you want to scrape the plaque from them. “I’m going to fuck you like a girl,” you tell him, pushing his legs as far as they go, his toes curl.

“I don’t like that—“

“I don’t like your dick or your stupid sex talk and I don’t like being fucking pile drived, do you think I like being folded like origami you stupid fucking oaf?” It’s said in the same measured tone of voice you always use, the one that makes him feel stupid. “This is what it’s like being a girl, baby, gotta do what I want.”

Then you lift your hips, skirt shed and panties to the side, puffy pussy swallowing the tip of his cock as you sit on it, taking it inch by inch by inch by inch. All four of ‘em. You hold onto his ankles as you fuck yourself on his cock, a soft squelch everytime his cock bottoms out, slick dripping down his thick shaft and balls.

Leon doesn't like this. How you have him. How you’re taking him, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling good. Your pussy is wet and warm and it squeezes around him, gripping his cock like it’s all you’ve got to live for. You reach between your thighs to rub your swollen clit, but Leon beats you, wanting to make himself useful.

“Good girl,” you praise, eyes rolling back into your skull as you slow your pace, coming to a halt as you place a hand over his, urging him to rub you raw. Then you cum as he presses his thumb into your tiny bud hard, cunt spasming around his dick, letting out a gasp and toppling forward into his chest. Leon’s cock slips out of your cunt, rock hard and lonely, he holds you as his legs drop to the floor, feet on the floor where they belong.

“I didn’t… I didn’t get to…” Leon looks at your face and then his stiff dick, pouting almost.

“I know, baby.” You kiss his head tenderly, so tender he nearly forgets why he’s upset. “But you’re a girl now, right?”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil angst #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you

51 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 1 day

Note

What do you think of Bea and Eug looks at W&K wedding? I know some say they chose ugly hats because they were jealous. But I think they went over the top because it was the most important wedding of the century yet, so they thought they had to bring some extravagance. Also looking back, their outfits actually matched the time and they also were not the biggest fashion girlies.

They did the best they could. (For the record, I’m their age - 1989 baby here.)

The late 2000s/early 2010s were a terrible time for young women in their teens and twenties, both in terms of how freely and viciously one’s weight was discussed (and the more not-a-size-zero you were, the meaner it was) and how terrible the fashion trends/options were for us back then.

It wasn’t until Kate began polishing her image with coatdresses, color blocking, and expertly-tailored looks after the wedding that quote-unquote millennial fashion began to transform from “corporate wear you can also go clubbing in” to giving us separate options for separate occasions.

Bea and Eugenie did the best they could with a shit stick of trends and a hyper-critical fashion press that didn’t like anyone who wasn’t waif-thin or who dared to express their individuality. But all the credit goes to them for having learned from their mistakes and figuring out the looks and styles that work best for their bodies.

And even more credit goes to Beatrice, who auctioned her infamous hat for charity.

#ask #brf #yorkies

36 notes · View notes

t3ag3rs · 6 hours

Note

Hii!!! I hope youre doing well. I loved your last bakugo hcs! Could u do a part 2 of younger! s/o x bakugou?

help ykw so funny this is based of delusions of my crush whose also my moms friends son and a yr older than me.... but yes ofc 😋 (even tho i havent updated my actual fanfic in more than a week...) ITS A SHORT ONE YALL IVE BEEN REAL BUSY WITH PROJECTS THESE PAST COUPLE WEEKS

the next encounter you have with bakugou is when his mom invites you and a couple of close work friends over to their house.

you walk in and head upstairs to see the other kids only to find them in the theatre room watching Spiderman.

you awkwardly sit at the opposite end of bakugou and who you guessed was his baby cousin on his lap.

after about 30 minutes you start getting bored so ofc ur eyes start traveling to the other side...

that views better than the movie anyways.

"hey shortcakes... wanna play cards with the kids?" asks bakugou as he stands up grabbing his cousin.

"yeah we can" you smile sitting down on the floor in a circle next to his cousin. "hey there.. whats your name?" you inquire to the kid as bakugou goes to find the cards.

"tobio" (bear w me😭🙏) he states smiling, you grin before leaning to him, "hey you should really tell bakugou that you like me better.."

"okay" he giggles before shuffling next to you as you hear footsteps approach. "tobio- you like me better right..???" You chuckle.

"wayyyy better" he replies looking at bakugou, "suit yourself bud.. just know that means your not getting to play on my phone anymore" chortles the other male showing off his phone.

you slap his arm, "hey! thats leverage! not allowed!" you exclaim, "yeah..! What she said!" adds tobio looking at you.

"tobio youre supposed to be on my side here! I'm your cousin!" bakugou says defensively.

you stick your tongue out in response with a playfully grin as you hug tobio. "hes mine now old man..!" you laugh.

all that could be heard from downstairs was the sound of pure laughter from you and bakugou.

"dont start stealing my stuff shortcakes.." he grins at you as he stretches and slumps his body weight on to your side. you grunt as you shove him off, "get off you big back..!"

only to which you were suffocated by his weight again.

"MITSUK-!!" you start before bakugou places his hand over your mouth. you stare up at him wide eyed with a slight blush dusting your cheeks.

"how bout you dont kay shortcakes?" he asks with a devilish smirk.

well fuck. there goes your sanity.

26 notes · View notes

sebsxphia · 14 hours

Text

natasha ‘phoenix’ trace x reader. | drabble.

￫ c/w: fingering, kissing, swearing.

￫ a/n: i saw this post here and i couldn’t stop thinking about this with natasha! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

natasha dropped herself on your shared sofa and let her body finally relax against yours. her muscles became softer and her bones less stiff, as she melted into your familiar embrace. with great relief, she had shed her jumpsuit and exchanged it for far comfier clothes. a loose t-shirt and her boxers. her thighs were bare and warm against your fingertips, as you mindlessly ran them up and down.

“and then,” natasha continued her irritated story from her gruelling day at work. “he made us run the drill five times. five fucking times! if he wasn’t such a dick in the first place and kn—” her words came to a stuttering standstill and she looked down at her boxers where your hand had disappeared just below your knuckles.

your fingertips gently swiped through her warm folds and pressed a firm pressure onto her clit. her eyelashes fluttered and in return, you simply batted yours at her. your face was a look of pure innocence, but a wry smirk was twitching on your lips.

“you okay?” you asked with innocence still lacing your tone.

natasha let out a small laugh. “no, baby, you’re fine. the way you reached into my pants and started playing with me in the middle of my sentence just caught me off guard is all.”

you shrugged it off with a knowing smile and planted a soft kiss on her rosy cheeks. you encouraged natasha to continue her story, but your fingers stayed down her boxers, and they would continue to stay down there until natasha had all but forgotten her horrible day.

#natasha phoenix trace #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace x you #natasha trace x y/n #natasha trace #natasha trace drabble #natasha trace imagine #natasha phoenix trace drabble #natasha trace smut #phoenix x reader #phoenix smut #monica barbaro #top gun maverick #top gun maverick smut

18 notes · View notes

grandpuppyalpaca · 2 days

Text

I Want To Actually Write Some Fics

So, I'm finally moving to a dorm away from "home" in a few months, and I want to take the opportunity to finally start writing some of the fanfics that have been calibrating in the back of my mind.

Warnings in advance:

I will only be writing fanfic, not original works.

I have never shared or published fics before (Unless you count reading the occasional snippet in Creating Writing Club).

As of right now, I have no beta(s).

Don't know my college schedule/workload yet, so no ideas about how often I could post/update at the moment.

I likely won't be able to post anything until I have access to a computer at the college (presumably in August, sorry about that), because the closest thing I have to an unmonitored/unrestricted device at "home" is my outdated Kindle Fire tablet (where the secondary browser I downloaded to hide reading fics sometimes likes to crash every few minutes).

If you've read past all of that and are still interested in my possible future writings, here are the possible options for what I could actually post:

Azure Fingerprints: Title of a possible series based off of this idea (batman and megamind crossover). > (Time travelers have realized that Bruce Wayne will always, without exception, base his crimefighting persona on the first thing... – @grandpuppyalpaca on Tumblr)

Featuring (so far): a delayed start to "Batman's" career, SuperBat friendship, Bruce's poor social skills, the not-yet-"Batcave" getting turned into a babyproofed nursery, and lots of fluff and crack and FEELINGS. Not sure if other parts of the series would be other longfics in that world, or just little snippets of stuff.

2. Anna Elizabeth Wayne (Actual Title TBD): My take on an Annabeth is Bruce Wayne's daughter fic.

Featuring (so far): Show!Annabeth (Leah Jeffries is phenomenal), Reverse Batkids AU (with a twist or so), an Athena characterization based on Circe by Madeline Miller, GoodDad!Bruce, multiverse stuff (only a little at the moment), Siblings Bonding Over Weird Childhoods, and So Much ANGST. This one is reallllly complicated, so it might be a series just so I can include one of those "explanation of the writer's AU" pages. Not as much of a plot as it is ANGST, small ideas for individual scenes, and general vibes right now.

3. The Adventures Of Lulu And Hatchling: probably the title of first fic (probably backstory stuff) in what would likely be a series. Crossover between ACOTAR universe and PJO/HOO (I am NOT ACTUALLY merging the two worlds). Basic background is that Annabeth's mortal family are the descendants of an illegitimate child from a kept mistress of Tamlin's father, and Annabeth is the first person to have powers from their bloodline. Baby Annabeth gets sent to grow up with Tamlin (Watsonian reasons would be explained in-story), but Lucien unofficially becomes her main caretaker. She spends seven years in the Spring court (pre-Amarantha even coming to Prythian), then is returned home in time for all PJO relevant events to occur. This would NOT be a Complete Re-Write Of PJO Canon.

Featuring (so far): Multiverse stuff, Annabeth w/fae powers, Book!Annabeth description so she can look like Tamlin (Leah Jeffries is still phenomenal, fight me), Lucien's gradually increasing blood pressure, Found Family Fluff, Lucien being a good father/uncle/older brother figure, Tamlin not being a complete alphahole in the beginning, Eventual Tamlin Bashing anyway, Ianthe Bashing (once she joins the story).

Definite intentions for later parts of the story: Powerful!Annabeth High Lady!Annabeth, Consort!Percy (he refuses to become High Lord, especially when he can just vibe and technically hold the official title of Least Politically Important Person At This Meeting), Tamlin's manor getting abandoned and Annabeth employing people to help build a new one that she designs, Inter-Court Meetings between all the courts becoming a Regular Thing (bc I want to put all the little dudes in a jar, shake them up, and study the results under a microscope), Inter-Court politics, gradually undermining the patriarchy, Inter-Court friendships, Beron taking psychic damage from the sheer audacity of---, Everyone Bonding Over Hating Beron, Positive Social Change, and Me Adding My Own Additional Lore To The World Of Prythian.

Optional fun fact! The base story could take multiple paths after TTC, so it would be the most likely fic to eventually make me write one or more AUs of itself, so here's later random details of the story that may or may not be added depending on which timeline I write: Tamlin dies, Tamlin gets locked up in his own house and told that Annabeth is willing to talk to him once he's "being more rational". Beron has a brain aneurysm in the middle of an Inter-Court Meeting and dies, Percy and Annabeth somehow creating a plan to get away with sending Beron off for the Hunters and Amazons to hunt him for sport, Amarantha kills Tamlin and is shortly killed by Annabeth before ACOTAR would have happened, Rhysand and Annabeth become Very Fast Friends and make fun of people together, and Doreen Green (Squirrel Girl) becomes Annabeth's spymaster bc that would just have so much comedic potential, fight me (she's honest about that being her job [if not explaining the details of how she does it] and she's just so open and friendly and polite that it has to be a hoax, right? there's no way she's actually in charge of collecting real intelligence. she has a network of squirrels who pass info to her across the entire continent? oh right, because of the tail, very funny. some of us are actually taking this seriously, Tarquin).

4. Lightning Rod, Grounding Wire: Approximate title for a crossover AU where Agatha Heterodyne (Girl Genius) and Hunter (The Owl House) end up swapping places right before Barry would have gotten Agatha (exact explanations undecided, maybe Belos let the Collector get too bored?) and about the same time Hunter was created (with Hunter being a couple years older than her biologically). Longfic? Series? Who knows, not me(yet).

In the Boiling Isles: Agatha is initially raised by Belos in something a bit similar to the get in loser we're assassinating the emperor - elliptical - The Owl House (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] AU, but it's Agatha (Spark, Heterodyne, etc.) so she gets on the wrong side of the empire way quicker. I'm thinking that she wouldn't make it more than a couple years after her breakthrough (w/o Uncle Barry to build her locket) before she starts spouting Extremely Logical Treason in meetings. Mostly, Canon occurs but minus Hunter (I'm going off the theory that Belos had to reuse the same galderstone for each grimwalker, so in this he's permanently down one(1) clone child soldier) and with way more explosions.

Meanwhile, over in Europa: Barry quickly deduces that this Very Small Child isn't Bill and Lucrezia's, is definitely some kind of construct, and is likely part of some kind of plot by Lucrezia (the man's stressed, and 2ish out of 3 ain't bad). Barry's not the kind of spark who'll try to vivisect or euthanize the kid just to stop Lucrezia, so his best bet is hiding him away from the world. Hunter grows up considering himself a construct, in time gets left with the "Clays", and lives a somewhat less stressful life than Agatha would have pre-canon. Everything goes passably well for him until the first events of "The Beetleburg Clank".

Featuring (so far): The rapidly increasing blood pressure of Every Adult in this situation, young Agatha being a feral gremlin, Hunter actually having a childhood, if Eda had a a nickel for every time a semi-feral teenage girl built an interdimensional portal in her back yard she'd have two nickels, SO MANY mistaken identity shenanigans after Agatha and Hunter actually meet, eventual Huntlow and Agatha/Gil/Tarvek OT3, and Eda menacing All The Sparks.

Now that I'm thinking about it, the only one of these that wouldn't need an explanation page is number one.

I do have more ideas on all four of these (as well as other vague ideas still calibrating), but this post is pretty long so I'd need a request from someone before I give more info.

Please comment/reblog/@ me with your thoughts!

For future reference, my Ao3 account is:

16 notes · View notes

verraising · 2 months

Text

i am short of breath standing next to you. i am out of my depth at this altitude. -♡-

#ffxiv gpose #myrrbert #wolbert #a'myrrhis venko #ardbert hylfyst #hello. i've been having A Time lately so i decided to cheer myself up with some disgustingly sweet gpose shenanigans #and it worked ;w; look at them... babies.....#and MAN i am kinda proud of these esp how the lighting and the angles worked out!!! and the hands!!! i had to futz with the fingers so much #but they line up quite nicely which is very satisfying #i am commited to their matching bracelets too. it was a joke initially but they are canon now. lil keepsakes for when they are apart #also ignore me with the sleeping at last lyrics again lmao but they're just. so perfect.#also just as a side note these are NOT wedding pictures lmaooo my partner saw them and was like #'aww they're getting married!' but that was not the intention #they're just in all white because i thought it'd look really nice with the purple forest #(and i was right about that)#ANYWAYS #sorry for the ranting i am just. excited. to have produced something really nice imho #and to see those two together <3 #i should talk about them more but i always get shy and embarrassed lmao but maybe i will do that sometime #anyways!

37 notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 4 months

Note

For ghostlights: baby Ellie + tired Danny + Duke the baby whisperer?

He has no idea how his parents did it.

Babies are exhausting. Toddlers more so. Any infants in the strange stage in-between? Doubly so.

Ellie is wonderful and sweet and cute and such a terror that Danny genuinely has no idea how his parents managed to raise not one, but two kids. For all their eccentricities and absent-mindedness, he and Jazz turned out pretty well. Ignoring the whole halfa thing because that’s more his fault than theirs even if Jazz says they shouldn’t have created the dangerous environment in the first place.

That environment is exactly why Danny refuses to let Ellie go to his house in Amity Park. His parents say they’ve disabled all the weapons and ecto-sensors since he’s had to reveal himself as Phantom, but he knows that things slip their minds and if they can’t guarantee that the house is safe, then Ellie isn’t going in there. Simple as that.

This means that they live somewhere else now. Danny had thought about it, during the hours Ellie was asleep and he was awake, exhausted and worn down to his bones, and took Jazz’s advice to accept Vlad’s offer of buying a house for him. Except he argued Vlad down to an apartment in a city of his choosing where he wouldn’t stand out too much and he would be safe, or as safe as he can be, from anyone trying to hunt down ghosts.

So here they are. Standing in the empty living room of their new apartment in Gotham.

Gotham may not be very safe as a city, but it’s good for two ghosts trying to pass as normal.

Danny sighs yet again, and looks at the space he’ll need to fill. At least Vlad is footing the bill. It’s the least he can do for creating Ellie. Frostbite was the one who was able to stabilize her, though it was almost too late and resulted in her reforming as a baby, just one and a half years old. Jazz is the one who’s choosing most of the furniture, thankfully, so it’s something that Danny doesn’t need to worry about it.

It’s a new start to their lives and it feels so empty. So overwhelming. How did his parents do it? How do any parents do it?

Ellie smacks a small palm against his cheek and babbles lightly.

“I know, Ellie,” Danny says, giving her a tired smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll have this place looking good in no time.”

He adjusts her in his arms, then heads towards the bedroom. It’s the only room that has any furniture, and all that’s there is a bed, a crib, and a bookcase. There are a few boxes on the floor, labeled ‘bedroom’ and ‘clothing’ and ‘books’. Most of it came from his bedroom in Amity Park, but he’s pretty sure he caught Jazz sneaking a few things in before they closed the boxes and loaded them up into the car.

“Can you be good for five minutes?” he asks Ellie.

She babbles again and smacks his shoulder.

“I’m taking that as an agreement. Just let me open these boxes and start unpacking before you start causing trouble, okay?”

Ellie makes another sound, but it seems agreeable so Danny carefully lays her down in the crib and gets to peeling off the tape on the boxes. The opens the one labeled ‘bedroom’ first, finding blankets and sheets folded and stacked in vacuum sealed bags. One of them is his old childhood blanket, the one he carried around everywhere that was faded with age, barely blue, with white bunnies decorating it.

He was so small when he had this. It makes him oddly emotional to unpack it and pass it on to Ellie, draping it over her so her pudgy little hands can grab at it.

This is no time to cry, though! He forces himself to focus and makes his own bed, shaking out the sheets and fluffing up the pillows. He’ll worry about washing everything later; Vlad made sure to get an apartment with an in-unit washer and dryer, which means he was actually sensible while apartment hunting for Danny.

He doesn’t mean to flop onto the bed once it’s made, but he ends up there anyways. He’s barely gotten a full six hours of uninterrupted sleep since Frostbite deemed Ellie healthy enough to leave his care. The drive up to Gotham was long and wore him down to his bones.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he does, drifting off as he wonders, distantly, when Jazz will be back from getting them dinner.

Ellie wakes him up at dawn with a loud cry. Danny jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest as he panics because Ellie isn’t here, she’s supposed to be in his arms, where is she? And then he sees the crib, where Ellie is staring at him through the bars, and he nearly collapses with relief.

“Morning, El,” he says, voice rough from sleep, as he picks her up. She just stares up at him, then leans forward and rests her head against his shoulder.

It’s quiet moments like these that make his heart melt. Ellie’s had a hard life already; he wants to give her a better one, this time around.

A quick check of the time on his nearly dead phone shows that it’s barely past six in the morning, and Jazz texted him a few times. All about furniture, saying that she didn’t want to wake them and that food is in the fridge.

It’s only the mention of food that makes him realize how ravenous he’s feeling. Danny makes a beeline for the kitchen, ignoring everything else, and pulls out the boxes of take-out Jazz left stacked in the fridge. He devours it like he’s been starving for weeks, then gives Ellie her Ecto-Jello, the only food she’s allowed to eat until Frostbite gives the okay for solid, human food.

Once he’s got her burped and cleaned up, Danny looks out of the kitchen and realizes that Jazz was very productive while he was asleep. The living room isn’t empty anymore; a dark green couch is against the wall, a low, rectangular coffee table made of dark wood in front of it. Two armchairs are on both sides of the couch, and a television has been installed, fixed into the wall.

Jazz is asleep on the couch. Her legs hang off an armrest and she’s drooling slightly.

Her phone is charging on the floor, so Danny takes it and snaps a picture of her for later teasing, then sends it to himself and writes a note to her that he’s going out with Ellie to explore the neighborhood.

He’s finally feeling more settled, energized from sleep and food.

In the warm dawn light spilling in through the windows, Danny looks down at Ellie and thinks that they’ll be just fine after all.

. . .

Four months ago, Danny had hope. He was optimistic.

Gotham was a fresh start, a new lease of life for Ellie. It is Danny’s attempt to be a single parent, sacrificing college for Ellie, and he’s planning to go out and beat the gangs black and blue if they start anymore shootouts in the next year.

He had just gotten Ellie to sleep. She was actually peacefully taking a nap.

And then a drive by shooter raced down the street, gunshots echoing down the road, and Ellie work up crying. She still hasn’t stopped, despite how Danny rocked her, soothing her as best he could.

They had been outside when Ellie fell asleep, her head on his shoulder. He had been catching up with Sam and Tucker when the car drove by, people ducking and crying out to avoid the bullets. Danny instinctively covered Ellie and made them both intangible, saving them from any stray bullets, but they ruined her nap and he needs to make them pay for that.

“Shh,” he soothes, “You’re okay. We’re both fine. It’s okay, El, it’s okay.”

Her little hands clutch at his back, twisting the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a heartbreaking wail. He pats her back, hurrying down the street to get back to his apartment building, ignoring the looks people were giving them as they passed by.

“I know it was scary, but you’re alright. You’re always safe with me, El.”

Ellie’s cries down down a little, but they don’t stop. She whimpers, burying her face against his shoulder as he finally reaches their apartment building.

The door’s locked, which wouldn’t be a problem except Danny can’t get his keys from his pocket. He knows he has them! But his pocket refuses to relinquish them and he has to stop every few seconds to pat Ellie’s back, trying in vain to calm her down.

“We’ll be inside in a second,” he tells her, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, “as soon as I can get these freaking keys!”

“Hey, you alright?”

Danny startles, whirling around so fast it makes Ellie go quiet, clinging to him so she doesn’t get flung into the air. There’s a guy standing before him in a gray hoodie, looking at him with clear concern. It speaks to Danny’s level of constant exhaustion that he hadn’t clocked someone sneaking up behind him.

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Um, do you need me to open to door? I live here too.”

Danny wonders for a moment if this someone dangerous, someone hoping to hurt Ellie, but she starts to cry again and he steps to the side. “Please. I can’t get my keys.”

“I’m Duke, by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“Danny,” he replies, watching as Duke pulls out a large key ring, jangling with the amount of keychains on it, and easily opens the door. “I’ve been here a few months, but I’m usually inside. Or walking around in the mornings with this little monster.”

“That would explain it,” Duke says as he holds the door open, letting Danny in first. “I’m usually in classes at GCU, but I decided to take a mental health day after my lab, so here I am.”

Danny walks in and waits for Duke to follow, making sure the door closes properly behind them. “Thanks. How is GCU? What do you study? I was thinking of going there myself once she gets a little older and can go to school.”

“Oh, I’m majoring in English and Human Services.” He goes to say more, but Ellie wails again and Danny winces.

“I’m so sorry. That drive by woke her up and it’s really rattled her.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I get it, Gotham is rough to kids.”

Danny tries rocking her back and forth, but it doesn’t help. He resigns himself to another hour of her crying before she exhausts herself, and makes for the stairs, going up to the fourth floor. Duke holds open the door again, then follows after them. It makes Danny wonder if Duke is planning to do something to them, then decides he can beat Duke in a fight, so it’s fine.

Duke doesn’t try to hurt them or steal Ellie away. He opens the door to their floor and stops before they do. “I’m in here,” he says, “If you ever need me to open more doors.”

“Thanks. Um, actually, I might need help opening mine?”

Duke just smiles and makes his way back to them, following them farther into the hall until Danny stops in front of his apartment.

“If I could just get my keys,” he starts.

“Here, let me hold her for a second so you can get them,” Duke offers. Danny wants to insist that it’s fine, but Ellie cries directly into his ear and Danny, at the end of his rope, passes her over.

Like magic, Ellie settles as soon as she’s in Duke’s arms. She sniffles and hides her face away, clutching to Duke’s hoodie, but she stops crying. They both go still, surprised, and stare down at her.

“Seriously?” Danny says as he finally pulls out his keys, “Are you trying to say that I’m the problem?”

Ellie babbles lightly, and Duke turns his head to futilely hide his grin.

He grumbles as he unlocks the door and pushes it open. Ellie is acting as if she’s never been upset before a day in her life, making herself at home in Duke’s arms.

“I can’t believe this. Betrayed by my own blood.”

Duke laughs as he follows Danny into his apartment, lightly patting Ellie’s back. “It’s always the smallest, cutest ones that do this.”

“Yeah? Do you work with a lot of kids or something? Used to being betrayed by the little ones?”

“I don’t work with kids per se,” Duke says, “But my foster family is a hot mess and the youngest of them likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Family,” Danny says in a tired, fond tone.

“Family,” Duke agrees.

With his door open and Ellie calm, Danny’s ready to just lay face down on the floor for the rest of the day and not deal with anything else. He moves to take Ellie back, holding his arms out, and Duke tries to pass her over.

The key word being tries.

Ellie tightens her grip and kicks at Danny. She refuses to be taken away from Duke, making him awkwardly try to pry her off his hoodie. Danny really hopes Duke doesn’t notice how she goes slightly intangible to make his hands fall through her arms and legs. It shouldn’t be noticeable, but it’s hard to focus on anything but a kid that clings to you, so Danny holds out for Duke’s goodwill and silence.

“As nice as it is to meet you, you need to go back to your… parent?” Danny nods when Duke looks at him in askance. “You need to go back to your parent. Okay? Come on, kid, he’s waiting for you.”

Ellie shakes her head, makes a frustrated noise, and then turns and reaches out a grabby hand towards Danny.

She still refuses to be taken from Duke when Danny tries to pick her up again, so he settles with just letting her hold two of his fingers.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he says to Duke, face burning. This is why he hasn’t been going out and being social since he moved in; Ellie is a handful even on the best days, and Danny doesn’t want someone to judge him as unfit to parent her and have her taken away.

Duke shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s all good, man. I don’t mind. It’s not like I had any plans today. I’m already skipping my classes, might as well spend it with you two than sleep all day.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to invite you in, but I know Ellie can be a lot and not everyone wants to spend their day off with a baby.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I’d just be down the hall anyways. It’s no skin off my back, man.”

“Well,” Danny says, stepping to the side to give Duke full access to his open doorway, “Come on in, then.”

Ellie keeps them connected, one hand in Duke’s hoodie and the other holding Danny’s fingers, and though her cheeks are still red from how hard she had been crying, she’s calm now with her eyes shining with mischief.

As the door closes behind them, Danny realizes that this is the first time someone he’s not related to has been inside his apartment. Not even Vlad has come in, always choosing to invite Danny and Ellie out for lunch instead.

It should make him nervous, but Duke is calm and easy going and kind.

He’s making silly faces at Ellie to make her laugh, completely at ease with her in his arms, as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

Gotham is a second chance at life for Ellie. It’s a sacrifice for Danny, to be alone and without friends or family around. He’d been ready to give up everything for Ellie, to focus solely on raising her, but with Duke filling his apartment with laughter, he thinks that he can make a life here too.

All he needs to do is take that first step, reach his hand out, ask Duke to stick around.

He can do this.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #i really love writing about characters struggling to be parents v suddenly and thru unconventional means #so here's danny a year out of high school living on his own for the first time w baby ellie #and duke who needed some space and independence while he's in college. bruce pays for the apartment while duke works part time for grocerie #and ellie who had been fully developed but unstable is now a halfa baby who remembers stuff but is also. yknow. a baby.#she absolutely latched onto duke to force danny to have a life outside of her. but also she can sense that hes kind and calm #which danny needs bc he is Stressed (tm)#this leads to duke bringing over food for them and looking after ellie while danny goes shopping or naps #both of them ignoring how duke has to leave suddenly for Hero Related Reasons and how danny and ellie have Powers #it's a v delicate balance they keep for the sake of keeping ellie safe #yeah they're gonna co-parent and realize they're basically dating after MONTHS of pining #the bats have bets on who gives bruce a grandkid first and literally no one bet on duke but here he is lol :)#thanks for the prompt!!

486 notes · View notes