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#baby daddy fic
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I wasn’t gonna post about this, because, well it’s not really related at all to TMP, but I do remember in the past when some of us Mindy Projectors were talking about shows we liked, if I"m remembering correctly, some mentioned one of their guilty pleasure shows was “Baby Daddy.” Which to me is like junkfood. I just gobble it up fully aware of how cheesy it is. I can see the jokes coming a million miles away, and yet I still laugh every time (Melissa Peterman is mostly to blame for this, and Tahj Mowry), I can see the pining coming a million miles away (why must Derek Theler be so effing bangable? I’m pretty sure it’s in his contract to be shirtless in every episode :O) and I still sigh and ship it vigorously, even though I know this show will jerk me around until it’s over or gets cancelled. And I just binged season 3 because it was just posted to Netflix. I watched it entirely too fast, but the episodes are only like twenty minutes long. Anywho, the point of this post was… I did a silly thing… I’m writing a Baby Daddy fic :O

ff.net

ao3

Take a look if you have even the faintest interest in that show :P

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Just a little sugar daddy John ficlet. based on the prompt: “get your things, we’re leaving” 

also, this is my very first fic, and I really really would love feedback! thank you so much! -rory

Sherlock leaned his elbows against the bar, head thrown back in boredom. He hated stupid parties like this. He eyed John, who was speaking to a circle of older men, sipping brandy. The absolute only perk to this engagement was John in his full dress uniform. Sherlock bit his lip subconsciously at the thought. 

“Enjoying the party, princess?” A low voice came from nearby and Sherlock looked up quickly to see one of the honored RAMC officers looking at him like he was a cut of steak. He blushed nervously. He was very aware of how tight the trousers he was wearing were, and how he had elected to wear knickers instead of pants, and that this man was too close. Too close. Sherlock closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. 

“No, not really, actually.” The older man cocked an eyebrow and smiled. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad, let me get you a drink…that is if you’re old enough” Sherlock had just barely turned 18. The man put one arm on the bar next to Sherlock, caging him in, and Sherlock looked over his shoulder frantically for John, whose back was turned, his colleagues laughing at some remark. He needed his daddy and FAST. 

“N-no thank you, excuse me,” Sherlock stepped forward but the man put his other arm down and flashed a sly smile. Sherlock could feel his heart thumping in his chest, his palms sweating, and he swallowed. He tried to analyze the best plan but his mind was frozen. Frozen solid, even as the man leaned in and whispered, breath hot in his ears. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little boy?” Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“P-please, leave me alone, you’re not my daddy, please, go away,” The man only laughed and bit Sherlock’s ear. He yelped and tried to slide out of his grip. 

“Is that the name of the game, baby? I can play lots of games with a lost little boy-” The man was cut off by someone grabbing his collar and pulling him off of Sherlock. John was livid, so angry he was smiling. 

“This one’s mine,” John growled, giving the man a hard stare, to which he scoffed, winking at Sherlock and heading away. Sherlock kept his eyes on the ground. He felt dirty. And not in the good way. Not good at all. John leaned in and whispered sternly, “Get your things, we’re leaving. Now.” Sherlock nodded quickly, rushing to retrieve their coats. When he returned, John gripped his wrist and pulled him away, dragging him along in front of everyone, causing Sherlock to turn beet red with embarrassment. 

“D-addy, stop it,” Sherlock whimpered, his wrist hurt! John only laughed and looked him straight on. His eyes were dark, brooding, and Sherlock shivered. They got to daddy’s Aston Martin and Sherlock’s door was opened and he was buckled before he could say anything else. The drive was tense, John gripping the steering wheel tight, eyes tight on the road. Sherlock ran his hands down his thighs, trying to will his tears away, to stop hyperventilating but he couldn’t. He felt like the dirtiest, whoriest boy in the world. Daddy was so cross, maybe…

Maybe tonight was the night he kicked Sherlock out. For good. The thought hit Sherlock in the stomach and his breath hitched. He shut his eyes tight and hoped daddy didn’t notice his half-choked sob. He didn’t even notice when the car stopped and daddy got out. He flinched violently when his door swung open, cowering in on himself, eyes locked on his lap. 

“Sherlock,” Daddy said with a warning tone, leaning on the door frame. “Come out of the car. Now.” Sherlock’s body wouldn’t listen to him! He screamed at his legs to move, get up, do something! But he remained still save the shuddering of his silent tears. John gripped his arm again, and Sherlock whimpered at the pain. He was sure to have hand-shaped bruises there for at least a week. Daddy let go immediately, but Sherlock didn’t look up. “Please, love,” daddy said softly, and Sherlock shakily stood up, daddy pressing a hand at the small of his back, leading him to the lift. Daddy gently rubbed a circle on the back of Sherlock’s suit jacket, and the touch was grounding and calming. 

“D-addy, I-” Sherlock stuttered as daddy only shushed him. Why was he being so nice? Sherlock had been horrible, absolutely horrible! He didn’t deserve daddy’s nice touches. Sherlock stepped forward a bit, the loss of contact leaving him cold and empty, but daddy didn’t try to touch him again. He hung his head and kept his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to wipe his tears. He was such a bad boy, so bad, the worst! The worstest boy ever. 

When they got to daddy’s flat Sherlock immediately knelt in the center of the sitting room, hoping his submissive gesture would be appreciated. Daddy didn’t seem to notice, pulling his tie off and letting out a deep sigh before fixing himself a drink. Sherlock didn’t look up, just listened to the clinking of the decanter and the huff of daddy’s exhale. Sherlock’s mind was back at the party, the scary man offering him a drink, touching him, calling him princess. He bit back a sob. Nobody was supposed to touch Sherlock but daddy. Sherlock wasn’t allowed to have alcohol. Sherlock wasn’t to talk to other men without daddy’s permission, and he really hadn’t meant to! He really hadn’t! He cursed himself as daddy came to stand in front of him, sipping back his scotch. 

“Anything you have to say, hm? Acting like a whore in front of my work friends, embarrassing me?” Daddy said harshly, arms crossed, keeping his distance and looking down at Sherlock with a dominant glare. Sherlock couldn’t hide his tears anymore, he burst open like a cracked dam and it all came bubbling out. 

“S-so s-sorry da-addy, so sorry, please, daddy, I’ll be good, I won’t be rotten anymore, please, I’m so rotten, I’m s-so sorry, didn’t mean to, sir, didn’t mean to- to- to break the rules, sir, got scared daddy, couldn’t f-find you, please don’t kick me out, I’m so so sorry,” He blubbered and covered his face with his hands, shaking violently. He stilled instantly as daddy ran fingers through his hair, pulling Sherlock closer, petting him softly. 

“Why would I do that? You’re not rotten, darling,” Sherlock was so upset the change in John’s voice went over his head, but John was feeling terribly guilty. He hadn’t really thought this through- of course Sherlock was scared! Some drunken officer flirting with him, what was John thinking leaving him alone? John cursed himself for getting angry, for letting Sherlock believe that he might hurt him, or leave him. What kind of daddy was he? He bent down and planted a kiss on his baby boy’s curly mop. “You’re not rotten at all.”

Sherlock looked up at him through his long dark eyelashes, eyes wide as saucers and whispered, “I’m not?” John sighed and knelt down in front of Sherlock, one hand carding his hair right above his ear, another tracing his cheekbones gently, like he was a polished marble statue. 

“No, baby, you’re not. You’re my beautiful, clever, sweet boy, nothing can change that. I’m so sorry you had a scare tonight, I should’ve been watching you. I should’ve kept my calm, but I let you down, and I’m sorry.”

“S’okay daddy,” Sherlock’s cheeks flushed as John wiped his tears with the pad of his thumb. John pulled his boy into a hug and Sherlock melted at the touch, leaning his cheek on John’s shoulder, no doubt leaving a trail of tears and snot where he lay. John didn’t mind. He placed an arm under Sherlock’s bum and pulled him up onto his hip, bouncing ever so slightly. For being in his early forties, John was incredibly strong, and Sherlock was delicately light. Sherlock was limp in his arms, so exhausted from his ordeal. John shook his head. They hadn’t eaten dinner, but Sherlock was already asleep. Big breakfast tomorrow then. 

John carried his snoozing lover to bed,tucking the enormous Egyptian cotton duvet around him, planting soft kisses all over his face, feeling Sherlock smile beneath his lips. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, drowsy and content. 

“Goodnight, little Sherlock, daddy loves you very much,” John petted Sherlock’s hair as Sherlock closed his eyes once more. John’s heart was full as he flicked the light off, never looking away from his sleeping boy. His perfect, kind, brilliant , beautiful boy.

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@waiting4inspiration Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge: Prompt #16 – Call me if you need anything

Genre:  Romance

Pairing:  Modern Ivar x OC

Warning: Language/mild angst

Rating: MA

Summary: Can an online relationship work in the real world?  Ivar and Cash are about to find out.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 - pending
Chapter 9 - pending
Chapter 10 - pending

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Chapter five

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary- When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn’t what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn’t going to pay your rent and college loans.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings- smut, little anal stuff, daddy kink, angst, hurt/comfort, sugar daddy/baby themes

Word count- 2.2k

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four

Masterlist

Not having to work at the cafe or babysit your nephews freed up a lot of time for you. You were used to caring for others, always being busy with something. What the heck are you supposed to do now? Steve suggested getting a hobby. You tried cooking and almost burned down the kitchen.

Steve had been on a mission for two weeks. He had promised to be back in one. Your anxiety was through the roof. This is the longest you had been away from him. You weren’t allowed to contact him. Your worst fear was to find out something bad happened to him through the news.

It was also the first time you were truly alone. At first it was your mother and her delinquent friends and then your loud nephews. Now there was no one . No one to annoy you, nothing to do. Just silence.

Silence was deafening. It made your mind go to dark places, think about dark things. Things you pushed in some corner of your mind. You had to. You weren’t going to wallow in sadness forever.

You deserved to be happy. You kept telling yourself over and over again.

You were making some ramen for dinner after writing a long tedious paper. With your favorite show on, you were set for a nice relaxing night.

Keep reading

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gathered on wings by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 33K)

As Harry lay by Louis’ side, covered in sweat and come, he knew he should feel ugly, messy, ruined, like the life he’d left behind. But something about the way Louis looked at him, the way his eyes stared at him with want and awe, made Harry wonder if he’d ever feel this beautiful again.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself for his momentary romantic dreaminess. As good as this was, he knew it was nothing more than sex. He literally couldn’t afford to fall for just anyone, no matter how fit they were. 

—–

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist.
What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way.
Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for.
Somehow he still manages to turn Harry’s world upside down

Now COMPLETE

twopoppies
twopoppies
twopoppies
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Pairing: Chris Evans/ OC Kelly

Summary:Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

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Sixteeen and a half weeks pregnant

“You know the baby is the size of an avocado right now?” Chris asks from the living room. He’s sitting on the couch flipping through one of the many baby books we’ve acquired in the last few weeks with Dodger snoozing next to him. 

I’m in the kitchen, scrubbing the counters and getting the house ready for the family gathering that we’re having here in a few hours to let everyone know that I’m pregnant. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even hear him come up behind me. 

“Hey, let me do that. Come on, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.” he says, taking the spray bottle from me. 

“You do realize that I’m pregnant and not elderly, right?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow. 

Keep reading

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AU Farmer daddy!Steve x baby!Bucky - A-Z Head Canon Game

For the anons/lovelies that requested…

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their’s and also their partner’s)

***

Bucky has been through a lot in his young life with respect to his sexuality, related struggles, and it’s definitely impacted the way he sees his own body. But being with Steve has given him so much more confidence—more and more, every day.

I think that after working on Steve’s farm with him (not that Daddy actually lets Bucky do any sort of strenuous work, not if he can stop it, first), Bucky has probably become pretty proud of the shoulder muscles he’s built. They’re nothing like Daddy’s of course—not even a little bit close. But he knows they look toned and a little built up now, and he loves it when Daddy comes up behind him in the shower after a sweaty day outside and runs his tongue over them, between his shoulder blades, tasting the last of Bucky’s salty perspiration before soap washes it all away.

And Bucky’s favorite part of Steve’s body? Well… I am very pointedly not going to say that it is his monstrous super soldier cock, even though I really want to. Because Bucky gags for that thing (literally), but at the end of the day he isn’t quite as shallow as I am.

No… I think that Bucky’s favorite part of Daddy’s body is his arms

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Bucky loves the way that Steve can pick him up and man-handle him any way he wants—whether he’s being sexy or being playful—and he loves the way they can hold him down. He especially loves to be wrapped up and enveloped in Daddy’s arms, wholly and completely, his face pressed into Steve’s hard chest as Daddy holds him tight. (Sometimes, when Steve is sleeping soundly with one arm folded behind his own head, Bucky will cuddle in closer and press his nose into the musk and coarse hair of Steve’s arm pit. Bucky doesn’t know why he likes that so much, and it’s embarrassing, and fuck, he hopes Daddy never wakes up and finds him like that.)

***

For reasons that are probably obvious, Steve has a complicated relationship with his big-ass body. It is—was a weapon of war. It was built to kill (has killed), but whenever he looks at Bucky he reminds himself that his body was also built to protect. So the short and cheap answer here? Steve loves whichever part of his body Bucky loves and needs most at the moment.

But, okay, okay… let’s talk about something Steve really likes.

Steve loves Bucky’s hips. He loves Bucky’s hips but not just his hips—it’s everything around them, too. It’s his sweet little waist, his soft stomach, his pretty dick, his toned thighs, and—of course—that pert, full ass that fits so nicely in the squares of Steve’s palms.

But it really is Bucky’s hips that Steve thinks he loves the most. If he really considers it, it probably all goes back to one very specific memory he has of those hips, beautifully pressed underneath his own. 

It’s a memory from the very first time that Steve made love to Bucky:

There was so much that filled Steve’s memories of that night; the gut-wrenching sensation of their intimate touching, the beautiful sounds that Bucky made, and the sights— the visions that will forever be seared into Steve’s brain. A brand on his soul, just as much.

He had prepped Bucky painstakingly, with the absolute utmost care for hours, hours, days almost (a story for another time), until Steve had finally decided that Bucky’s small body was ready to take him. Bucky had looked like an angel of sin spread out on Steve’s bed, and Steve had wanted to sit back and stare for days on end but he simply couldn’t, not when Bucky had been laid out beneath him practically mewling for Daddy to just take him, to finally get inside of him. So Steve had torn his eyes away from all that smooth skin to situate himself, hovering over Bucky’s body, supporting himself on his forearms while his sweet baby boy looked up at him with depthless blue eyes that begged for nothing but Daddy.

Then Steve had slicked his cock up one more time and slotted his hips between Bucky’s thighs, but then paused. He’d been suddenly caught up and overwhelmed by looking down because oh my god— the place where his own painfully flushed cock had settled, huge and heavy against the inside of Bucky’s hip bone between the younger man’s dick and thigh. He was helpless to do anything but stare at the sight it created: the stark difference between his own fully hard cock, in all its girth and length and sheer magnitude, and the narrow breadth of Bucky’s little hips. It was the single most erotic side-by-side comparison Steve has ever seen to this day, and it had made Steve feel something almost savage— the way that the reach of his own dick fully extended from the apex of Bucky’s thighs all the way up to Bucky’s navel. 

And it had been one thing to look at the way his cock dwarfed Bucky’s sweet proportions from the outside, but it was another thing entirely for him to think about how that disparity in size would be just as real once he’s inside Bucky, buried in his baby’s body as deep as he could get. Steve remembers the sight of Bucky’s hips that night because of the way he felt realizing that he was going have to literally make room for himself inside Bucky, just to be able to fuck him.

Today, Daddy still sucks little love bruises over his baby’s hip bones whenever he gets the chance.

(p.s. don’t worry, the full story of their first time will be a real fic some day! i’m building up to it. it’s going to be super emotionally taxing to write so i’m feeding it to you in pieces in these head canons for my benefit and for yours, lol)

***

Farmer-Verse Head Canon Game - A to Z  Prompts and Masterlist 

lynne’s full masterlist [x]

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“𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙩𝙮 𝙄 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧!" 

Namjoon, your boyfriend of 5 months is charged with murder..is he guilty?

jungkooksthighs
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