#❀ doll writes

[fireblossomdoll]

Hi there !

Is there a way you can do a small fix or even a headcanon on how madara would act with his pregnant wife being moody or having mood swings. And craving weird foods?

If you would be so kind to make a scenario when she interrupts his meeting to ask for food

Btw I love your works 💗💗

Madara x pregnant!Reader hcs

Content: Uchiha Madara x Reader, fem!reader, husband!Madara x wife!reader, pregnacy!!, fluff, humor, crack A/N: Thank you so much for the request anon!! This is my first request so it's very special to me. I don't really write or read fics with pregnancy, but I tried my best (─‿‿─)♡ I'm also trying to write a little fic about it rn!!

Husband!Madara was very happy when he found out that you were pregnant. He could barely believe that he was going to be a father and finally have the family he dreamed of.

Husband!Madara tried to find out all the information he could about pregnancies, so that he could assist you in any way you needed.

Husband!Madara got annoyed anyway when you would get mood swings. He knew that it was a normal symptom, but it still annoyed him. He would send others to get you some chamomile tea to calm you down.

Husband!Madara would find your weird cravings amusing, but try to talk you out of them unless they were somewhat normal. He wouldn't let you eat sand, no matter how crunchy it looked, but would try to get you some ice to chew instead.

Husband!Madara would fry whatever food you wanted. The first time tasted so incredibly good, so you kept asking for more.

Husband!Madara started seasoning the fried food with spicier peppers as your requests got weirder to discourage you from wanting more. Eventually, it got so spicy you started crying when you took a bite and he felt bad. So he stopped putting extra chilli, but at that point you were too scared of fried foods to ask for more.

[filiseverus]

The Barbie movie reminded me about how when I was little my parents were upset that I kept making my Barbie dolls kiss, so they bought me a Ken doll. The next day they found me having a funeral for poor Ken in the garden, he had died of tuberculosis. All the Barbies were in attendance and I buried him under our rose bush. The Barbies were too poor to afford a headstone (it was 1875) so I didn’t mark where the grave was and I never could find him again. He’s probably still there.

[mournfulroses]

Henrik Ibsen, from Six Plays by Henrik Ibsen; "A Doll's House," written in 1879

[sqrkyclean]

Play toys can mean anything from running around in a field together to making elaborate littlest pet shop rp scenarios to playing Minecraft to learning yoyo tricks together to having an elaborate fancy tea party to doing bob Ross paintings together to hardcore bdsm sex. And you can do any of them with your friends if they have time and want to play toys with you btw

[frillydolle]

𝓐ll 𝓜ore 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓜e, 𝓡ight?　 ──　 𝓟𝓲𝓽𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓲

waiting for your girlfriend to come home after she's been fighting for who knows for how long. once she comes through the door, she jumps for ur attention.

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱　 ──　 mdni nsfw　 finger(r receiving)　 mean vi 　 dirty talk　 fem reader

being a fighter, vi had no idea how she ended up with a girl like u. she was different, very different. she was impulsive, hotheaded, tough, and yet, she was gentle, patient, and caring with u! strangely enough, u were like zaun's sweetheart, and vi had no idea how u managed to stay all kind and likeable, but she wouldn't change u for the world.

you're waiting back in her apartment. u so desperately wanted to go watch her fight, but she wasn't having it. She needed u here, knowing that ur safe. a girl like u wouldn't be safe in zaun, would u? here while she was out fighting, and of course, u agreed with her as she didn't want you to see her... like that. you knew what she did. it was obvious to anyone and everyone.

vi was ur girlfriend, and god, was she obsessed with u. if she wasn't fighting to fill up her pride and ego, then she was all over u

“mhmph- vii-! pleease, 's too much!-”

“shut up, i know you can take it.” u were on ur back while vi was on top of u, her long fingers in between ur legs. god, this had to have been the fourth orgasm she's pulled from u? the fifth, maybe? ur whimpers and whines were practically music to her eyes.

what better way to cope with a loss than to take it out on u? u were her sweet girlfriend after all. u were always willing to help out. no matter what she wanted and that u trust her. u even had the courage to pull away because u were getting all squirmy and pulling uself away from her-

“youre not leaving until i've had enough. not like i could ever get enough of you, bunny... especially her.” you knew exactly what she was talking about and that should've icked u, and yet it didnt, in fact, it made u throb even more sgainst her fingers and ur eyes roll to the back of ur head. u even felt the coil in ur lower abdomin beginning to-

a soft moan escape ur lips, it just felt so good having vi all to urself as soon as she comes home from fighting. ur just glad she wasn't hurt, most of those fights didn't damage a bit of her, only made her pride and ego higher than it ever should be.

u squirm away slightly, trying to ur best to ease away from vi's fingers as u felt her pick up the pace. she was quick and rough, nothing was stopping from this, stopping her from u. “ah, ah- don't pull away f'me, you got this, don't you, sweet girl?” she murmurs before she grabs ur hips, pulling closer towards her, and by now, u knew u were covered in bruises and some lovebites, not that u would ever complain.

🏷 — @puriitiys @dollaches @shitpostingsapphic @anas-aspiration

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 .ᐟ 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕

synopsis: Matt is obsessed with your lip gloss.

warnings: SMUT , obsessive!Matt, soft dom Matt, teasing, pervy Matt, flicking beans, and more.

ʚ with love and big tits, Rose ɞ

The lipgloss painted on your lips had driven Matt insane all fucking day. It wasn’t intentional on your end, but god…he was in pain from how bad he needed you.

He wanted your perfect lips messy. Matt needed to see your saliva drip down and smudge the pearlescent glitter—he needed to see you as he needy as he felt.

And it didn’t take long.

As soon as you two had gotten home and started cuddling, you were caught off guard by Matt’s behavior. He wouldn’t let you get up—or even move from your body being pressed directing onto his. His hands clamp possessively on your sides, frantically pulling you against him.

The lack of distance between your bodies answers your confusion about his behavior. You feel it, he’s hard—he’s throbbing.

A subtle grind of his hips makes your breath catch in your throat. Matt lets his hand palm and massage your thigh, his lips tracing delicate kisses on your neck—knowing it’s one of your weakness.

Anytime he kisses your neck he’s mesmerized how quick your energy shifts. Your hands grip harder, your breaths get shorter, and you…you always get so needy.

This time wasn’t any different. Desperation is audible with the sound of your nails scratching into the sheets. It’s intoxicating how blissful everything feels, but your body screams for more.

His efforts aren’t enough. Teasing isn’t sufficient for the pulse building between your legs. Your skin crawls for anything and the heat shriveling in your gut begs for something as soft pecks turn sloppier trailing down to your collarbone.

The weight of your body falls further against him. Air whispering on the wet trail of kisses has you in a daze. You’re hypnotized by the feeling of your body heating up warmly and aching for him to touch you more.

Matt lets out a breathy moan as you sway yourself back onto his hard bulge with sluggish, uncoordinated movements. You need him. You need him so bad that there’s little left but pure instinct.

“Matt…” you whine out.

Harsh breaths fan onto your neck as he continues ravishing you with hungry kisses. His hands falls forward. “Is this what you need, doll? Just want more, hm?” he rasps, dipping his hand through your pants to circle your clit over your underwear.

The broken moan that leaves your lips is encouraging to him. He lets himself find a good, slow pace while toying with the sensitive bud.

You can’t help but let your back arch against his front, but Matt is sure to keep you pinned against him. He wants to feel you writhe.

“You were teasin me all day, sweetheart…that damn lipgloss, I swear. Shouldn’t I return the favor?” His fingers start to pace even slower, a light pressure barely even palpable from his touch now.

“I…didn’t mean to, you—please,” you say, biting on your lip as you feel his chest vibrate with a low hum.

“Don’t worry, doll. I know you didn’t mean to and I—“ he lets his hand slide beneath the thin fabric of your panties.

There’s little hesitation as he swivels his nimble fingers through your wet heat, circling your hole for slick before dragging his hand back up to your swollen clit. “—I don’t tease my girl too much, no…I…” his pants are heavy against your neck.

A certain lace of lust found in his voice and his touches—one that makes you feel like a doll, not a toy. He’s playing with you. So intricately…so delicately…so obsessively….

”—I don’t do that, right? Always make my girl feel good…don’t you think, sweetheart?” he purrs.

The aggressive nods of your head awakens something in him—an even hungrier touch as he starts to grip you a little harder, pushing his fingers with more passion and starting to strum them delightfully against your clit.

A shriek leaves your mouth. Your hand grabs around his wrist in pure desperation. It’s too much.

“Want me to stop?” he asks.

Your grip becomes stronger, pulling his hand further into your underwear and your grind up into his touch. “N—no…I—fuck, please just…don’t stop, it—feels s’good, I,” you rush between breaths.

Matt hums, dipping his nose to run alone the subtle marks from his lips made on your neck just minutes ago. “Yeah? want me to keep playin with my doll, hm? I—fuckkkkkk, sweetheart…that’s right—“ drool is slipping from your lips as your mind runs blank. It feels so good. Nothing could float in or out of your mind. It’s just this—the pure bliss of his touch calming you to a numb state of pleasure.

“My messy girl—-fuck, my—my pretty doll.”

The sight of your drool sliding down and mixing with your lipgloss is even better than he had been imaging all day. It’s the perfect sight—it’s the perfect feeling. You look so messy, all ruined and he’s barely done anything. The way your body squirms is viciously beautiful to him. You can’t control yourself.

You’re a perfect mess.

And it’s all for him.

[bixels]

Posting a sneak-peak of this now because I'm about to be In The Shit school workload-wise, so this'll take me a while to finish.

Doing some character design exploration/expression sheets for Celestia and Luna. Figuring out Celestia's weird ass anatomy while I'm at it.

[chaosmagetwin]

Command Prompt

"Stop. Just, stop okay? She's gone. She's not here. And she's never coming back, okay? Just.... Fuck. Just go to your fucking kennel."

"Command accepted." The lieutenants disgusted face left my vision as I turned away, and left her almost empty room. Bodies passed me by. Some turned away from me, some reached out a hand before someone else pulled it away. None touched me. They couldn't.

I killed the last person who dared.

I stood in front of my pod. I couldn't connect to it without her. I waited. She'd come soon. I stared at it.

"Do you need help, pilot?" A voice called from behind me. I turned, and looked at their shoulder. Engineer. Third rank. I didn't look at their face.

"Request denied. Unclear intent. Please state intentions."

"... Do you need help connecting to your pod, miss?"

"DENIED. ADDRESS PILOT BY RANK." It can't call me miss, only she can call me miss, I am not miss, I am pilot, pilot pilot, leave me alone alone alone.

"S-sorry..." It left.

I stared at my pod. She'd be here soon. She'd tuck me in. The lights dimmed. The attack on the base must've needed a long meeting to sort things out. She had to be busy. She was busy.

My legs trembled, aching.

I fell before the lights rose again. I sat on the floor, and stared at my pod. She was coming. She always put me to sleep before going to bed.

Did she forget? She must be tired. Too many meetings. They always put her in too many meetings. Always worked her too hard. Too many logistics she had to handle for me.

"Pilot. Stand up." A voice called.

"Orders received. Confirmed." I stood up, and looked at their shoulder. A commander. I saluted. I didn't look them in the face. I can't look them in the face.

"How long since you slept?"

"Current operation is at fifty two hours, thirty nine minutes. Requesting handler."

"Request denied." I flinched. What? "You're being reassigned. Lay down in your pod."

"Orders received...." I couldn't move, couldn't say the word. "Denied..." I whispered. "Requesting handler!"

"Request denied." The voice sighed, deeply, frustrated. "You need to sleep, pilot. You are... not functioning properly."

"Pilot is operating above mission parameters!"

"And what parameters are those, pilot?"

"... Survive."

"You cannot complete that mission if you do not sleep."

"Confirmed. Request Handler to complete mission."

"... oh, Kit...." I flinched on hearing my name. No. No. No.

"PILOT. I AM-"

"Be quiet, pilot." My mouth snapped shut. I felt my tears slide off my face, hitting the metal plate beneath my feet. "I know you've been told. I know how you reacted. I know you killed the doctor. None of that is your fault. It's time for you to go to sleep."

"... Order denied. Please. It.... I... I can't..."

"Your handler is dead, Pilot." The words hit me like an AP round. A wail grew in the air. "You're being reassigned to a new handler. Out of the system. You... you're being retired."

"No! No! No! Requesting handler! Stop hiding her from it!" I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't move. I needed to kill this thing in front of me. A spy, a fake, an enemy wearing the uniform of the commander, he's not real, he's not real. I couldn't move my legs.

"You held her hand, Pilot. Who gave you your last order?"

"Handler!"

"When was it received in this operation cycle?"

"Order received at hour 8 and seventeen minutes!"

"That was two days ago. What was that order?"

"... Survive...."

"What were the exact words, Pilot?"

".... It can't.... it can't...."

"Repeat them to me."

"Confidential information! Cleara-"

"Override! Security clearance level 8, two nine alpha three seven Kilo Indiana Tango. Repeat your last orders to me!"

Her words flowed out of my mouth, repeated like a mantra in my head for so long they made up more of me than I did. "You have to survive, baby. Don't let me die in vain, you have to live! Get off me, doc, let me say goodbye. Let me tell her to live. Listen to me, Kit. My little Kit. Oh, I love you. You did such a good job for me today. You saved a lot of people, okay? But now you have to think about you. You have to survive. Priority one, okay? Confirm for me, baby. Authorization two nine alpha three S-seven.... Kilo. Indiana.... tang- tango. Good..... -rl"

"Priority one, Pilot. What is your next step in this mission? Your handler is not available."

".... Command: Sleep."

"Lay down in your pod, Pilot."

"Order.... confirmed..."

[blazing-butterfly]

"I feel naked without my armor" was a joke until it wasn't.

Until you got caught in a large-scale breach while off duty, and had to evac with the rest of the civilians. Until you listened for command's orders in your ear but heard only crashing and screaming and the howling of monsters. Until you staggered disoriented through the streets, always looking in the corners of your eyes for a HUD that wasn't there. Until instead of your navigation marker, you saw a woman carrying her crying child, running as fast as she could with a beast snapping at her heels. Until on instinct you put yourself between it and her, figuring it was a lesser one you could take alone, forgetting how small and soft you were. Until your fist hit its face and it didn't even feel anything, but your fingerbones sure did. Until a backhanded swipe of its claw sent you flying across the street and into a wall with your jacket and chest torn open. Until it stalked towards you with hungry jaws and all you could do was pray the mother got away. Until three of your own squadmates dropped from the rooftop, armor gleaming and plasma rifles blazing, and gunned the beast down. Until you were lying in the hospital bed, looking at the paperwork for surgeries and implants you'd need anyway, and thought "why the hell not."

Now you stand head and shoulders over most humans and have to duck under doors. Now your footsteps clink on the floor and your muscles whir when you stretch. Now a heat sword that would crush a human weighs nothing in your hands. Now the laws are stricter about where you can go, and your limbs could be revoked if you're convicted of a crime. Now the oaths you kept in your heart are wired into your brain, and you can't disobey command even if you wanted to. Now your old squadmates still salute you but you technically count as a weapon, not a soldier. Now you can beat a lesser monster singlehanded and turn the tide against a greater one. Now adults awkwardly try not to stare, but small children run up and ask if they can touch your plating. Now everywhere you go, you're always scanning for potential threats, angles of attack, escape routes, cover, improvisable weapons. Now you'll be ready no matter when or where disaster strikes. Now when someone needs saving, you can do a lot more than just die in their place.

Now, even when you're naked, you'll never be without your armor.

(This was written by a transfem, TERFs fix your hearts or die)

[fireblossomdoll]

who's that? (SMAU)

Context: You see them talking to a girl at a function

Content: Uchiha Madara x Reader, Senju Hashirama x Reader, gn!reader, crack, jealousy

A/N: First SMAU (￣ω￣) !! It's only Madara + Hashirama

Madara

Hashirama

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

Avoiding Sevika's kisses Imagine! 🦾

🚫MEN DNI🚫

Hella ooc, cute pathetic Sevika, reader being a bad girlfriend, Slightly suggestive themes at the end. shitty writing (the usual) I just wanted to write something cute for Sevika today. 🤭

Jinx made a bet with you, if you can go 1 day without kissing Sevika, she said she'd stop bothering her. Of course, the 'good' girlfriend you are, you'd do anything for Sevika. You also giggled, and wondered how your girlfriend would react if you deliberately avoid her kisses. She'd lean in to kiss you all day, and you lean away, turn back, or duck. (Horrible girlfriend things) And she'd pout, and squint at you like 'Did you really just do that right now?' And you'd look away to hide you mischievous smile, and giggles, (like a horrible girlfriend) while she just sits there confused, and wondering what she did to piss you off. She sat there listing all the things that could have potentially pissed you off, but the only thing that comes to mind is her coming home late, which you both already talked about. It didn't matter though, maybe she just needed to assure you again about some things, so after dinner, while you wear washing the dishes, Sevika was right behind you. She couldn't take it anymore. "Did I do something wrong?" the words came out so quick. Even she was surprised how desperate she sounded for an answer. She gulped, and walked towards you. She hugged you tightly from behind, your heart skipped a beat. Sevika was sniffling on your shoulder, while hugging you from behind. You felt so guilty. And you immediately dropped what you were doing, and cupped her face. You huffed and you were tearing up too, and you immediately confessed to her. "Oh baby I'm so sorry, I can't take it anymore either— Jinx made a bet she said she won't bother you anymore if I—" She cut you off with a kiss. It started off as a peck, but then quickly turned into an intense makeout session. You wrap your legs around her waist, and your hands were behind her head, lightly pulling on her hair. You moan in her mouth, and she pulled back. "Don't you ever do that again. Got it?" She said, wiping the tears off your face with her hand. You nod, and you take her hand, and you kiss her knuckles. "Understood. I'm sorry, baby." She smiles, and quickly picks you up with her mechanical hand raising you higher. You squeak, and giggle. You cup her cheek, and kiss her nose with a loud "Mwah" sound. She smiles at you, and you smile back. "I love you." you say to her. "I love you too." she says not above a whisper. "You are paying for what you did today." She says with a grin. And with that, the sweet intimate is gone, replaced with a playful atmosphere, as the sexual tension starts to build up. You look at her lips then her eyes, as you bite your lip, and nod. And let's just say, you made up for a day's worth of kisses the whole night. Till you passed out.

[loganspet]

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘 ♡ ૮ › ‹ ྀིა

. . . ─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ─── 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

. . . @loganspet

When Logan Howlett, your sugar daddy, finally gets his hands on you again, there’s no holding back.

Pairing:

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Daddy Kink, Dom! Logan, Sub! Reader, Rough sex, Teasing, Banter, Age gap, Dirty talk, Fingering , Use of pet names, Bimboification, Reader has piercings, Minor Ass spanking, No control, Explicit language, Explicit sexual content, Dog tags, Unprotected Sex (p in v).

Cotton Candy is Readers Nickname meaning docile and approachable

Inspiration nsfw link :3

Half asleep, I can’t shake the thought of him slipping into my bed, so I wrote this .

. . .

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] I’m booooored.

[Lo:] And?

[You:] And you should entertain me, duh.

[Lo:] Ain’t my problem, princess.

You scowl at your screen.

╰─..★.──────────╯

You roll your eyes, sprawled across the plush sheets of your king-sized bed. Technically, it’s your bed, in your penthouse—but let’s be real. It’s all because of him.

Logan keeps you in luxury, a spoiled little thing in lace and diamonds. He likes you soft, pretty, with a closet full of designer and a credit card you still haven’t hit the limit on. But right now? He’s being a pain in the ass.

Your manicured fingers tap against your phone.

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] Umm, actually, it is. You signed up for this so fucking mean. Ugh.

[Lo:] That right? Ain’t mean. Just don’t cater to whiny brats.

You picture him now, probably kicked back in his Chevrolet, cigar clenched between his teeth, jaw tight. He’s never been much for texting—too impatient, too old. You giggle at the thought.

[You:] You literally do tho. My closet says otherwise. What’s wrong, old man?

He leaves you on read for a second, which makes you scowl. You hate when he does that—like he’s got something more important than you. So, naturally, you decide to push.

[Lo:] Keep runnin’ that mouth, Cotton Candy see what happens.

You roll onto your back, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

[You:] Ooo, scary. What’re you gonna do, Lo? Ground me?

╰─..★.──────────╯

You smirk at your own sass, but when he doesn’t respond immediately, you pout. Logan’s such a grump. He doesn’t chase—not the way men your age do, falling over themselves for a chance with you. But that’s exactly why you love teasing him, making him snap.

A new idea.

You look in your vanity mirror. Your mirror is a dream—glossy lips, untidy hair, barely-there underwear, and something dangling between your tits. His dog tags. You bit your lip. Tits spill out. The cool metal rubs against your pierced nipples, barbell jewelry visible through the exquisite lace the lace he bought. Sliding your phone up, you angle the camera perfectly—pouty, teasing, tits pushed up, You make sure the tags are in focus, resting against your pierced nipples like they belong there. and attached it to a new message.

╭──────────.★..─╮

[You:] Ruin me, daddy. Please?

Delivered. Read.

You smirk.

Three dots appear. Vanish. Appear again. Oh, he’s pissed. The response takes seconds.

[Lo:] You wanna play that game, huh?

Your grin widens. Your stomach flips

[You:] Mmhmm. You get all growly ‘n’ bossy when you’re mad. So hot, Lo.

[Lo:] ‘Lo’? The fuck kinda name is that?

You giggle, twirling a strand of hair again.

[You:] Short for Logan. Duh.

[Lo:] Don’t call me that. I hate it

He loves it

[You:] Aww. Someone’s grumpy. Lemme guess—you’re sittin’ there, puffin’ on one of those nasty cigars, pretendin’ you’re not hard as hell right now.

Three dots appear. Vanish.

You’re kicking your feet.

[You:] C’mon, daddy. Bet you can’t handle me tonight.

Still nothing. Fine. You decide to push harder, slipping your fingers into your lace panties, dragging them low—just enough to tease. Another pic. Another message.

[You:] Bet you won’t do a thing about it.

Delivered. Read.

The response is immediate.

[Lo:] Bet your fuckin’ ass I will. Open the door.

Your breath catches.

Wait—

[You:] …You’re already here?!

[Lo:] Got in the car the second you sent that first pic. Ain’t in the mood for your games, bubs. Open the door, now.

Oh, shit.

You scramble up, heat pooling between your thighs, heart pounding. Your phone vibrates again.

[Lo:] And take those fuckin’ panties off before I get in there. If you’re gonna act like a needy little brat, you’re gonna learn what happens when daddy finally has enough.

Your whole body shivers.

You’re so in trouble.

╰─..★.──────────╯

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

You barely have time to process before there’s a heavy knock at your door. Sharp. Impatient.

Your pulse jumps.

Oh, you really did it this time.

Scrambling off the bed, you toss your phone aside and tug your panties down, just like he ordered. A rush of excitement floods through you—nerves and need tangled together. You love this part, the chase. Pushing him, testing the limits of that patience.

And now? You’re about to see what happens when you finally snap it.

You unlock the door with trembling fingers. The second it swings open.

Big hands. A rough grip. Logan grabs you, one hand fisting your hair, the other bracing against your jaw, forcing your head up to meet his glare.

He smells like cigar smoke and leather, like pine and something dangerous.

“Y’think you’re cute, huh?” His voice is low, thick with something darker than irritation.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out.

Logan’s eyes flick down, and fuck, you swear you see his jaw tighten when he sees his tags between your tits, resting against your soft skin like they were made to be there. back when their little arrangement was still just that—an arrangement. He paid for your apartment, your designer bags, diamond bracelets. You let him grab you by the waist, let him pull you into his lap when the two of you were alone, let him drink in the way you looked in all the things he bought. It was a game, a back-and-forth, push-and-pull. Spoiled you rotten, the perfect little doll for him.

But one night, You saw them. His dog tags. Hanging off the hook in his bedroom like they didn’t belong to him, like they weren’t something personal, something worn close to his heart.

You wanted them so you took them

“Y’just don’t know when to quit, do ya?” He mutters, stepping inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

You give him a slow, syrupy smile. “Not really.”

His nostrils flare.

Then he’s moving—shoving you back against the wall, pinning you there like you belong beneath him. His grip tightens around your chin, thumb pressing against your glossy bottom lip.

“Daddy asked you a question.” His voice is rough, a quiet rasp of warning.

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Which one?”

His expression darkens.

“Brat.”

Oh, you love it when he gets like this—when his rough hands and mean mouth are too much for anyone else, but perfect for you.

“I missed you, Logan” you sigh, tilting your head, giving him a coy smile of yours that drives him wild.

His thumb drags against your lip, just barely dipping between your teeth.

“Yeah? That why you were sendin’ me filthy fuckin’ pictures while I was drivin’?” he growls, his breath hot against your skin. He always loves hearing his name from you—especially when it comes out so sweet, so innocent, even though he knows exactly what’s underneath that pretty, ditzy exterior.

Your grin widens. “Mhm.” you hum, drawing out the sound just enough to drive him wild. “I missed everything about you, Logan”

His thumb presses against your tongue, just enough to make you gasp.

“Everything, huh? Got no patience for your games tonight, sugar. Y’been beggin’ for my attention all fuckin’ week.” He leans in, breath hot against your cheek. “Now you got it.”

“I want you so bad,” you whisper against his lips, your breath coming faster, need building. “Do you want me, Lo?” You whimper, thighs pressing together. Of course he did if he didn’t he wouldn’t be here.

His lips brush against your ear. “What was it you said?” His voice is pure gravel, his grip sliding down your body, over soft curves, possessive and firm. “Bet I won’t do a thing about it?”

A sharp little gasp slips out before you can stop it.

Then his hand grips the inside of your bare thigh. Just enough to sting. Just enough to make you ache.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

His voice is a growl against your ear, rough like gravel, thick like smoke.

“You really got no shame, do ya? Bubs”

You giggle, all soft and sweet, batting your lashes up at him. “Not when it comes to you, Lo”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s trying to keep his shit together. You know that sound. It’s the same one he makes when he’s gripping the steering wheel too tight after you’ve spent the whole car ride teasing him with your pretty little mouth.

His hand is still on your thigh, big and hot, pressing in just enough to remind you who’s in charge. His other hand trails up, fingers catching on the chain of his dog tags—right where they sit between your tits.

You see it then, the way his eyes darken, locked on the cold metal resting against your warm skin.

He loves it.

He hates how much he loves it.

“You think just ‘cause you’re wearin’ these, you get to act like a fuckin’ menace?” His thumb brushes the tags, then trails down, grazing your nipple through the thin lace. The metal is cold against your skin.

You gasp, arching into him. “Mmm. Maybe.”

His grip tightens.

Maybe it’s the pout you give him. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not wearing panties, just like he told you to. Maybe it’s the way your skin is warm and soft under his rough hands—so delicate compared to him.

Whatever it is, Logan’s patience snaps like a frayed wire.

He fists the chain and tugs. Not enough to hurt, just enough to pull you closer, to make you feel who you belong to.

“You got no fuckin’ idea what you just started, Cotton Candy.”

You shiver, looking up at him through heavy lashes. “Guess you’ll have to show me.”

His nostrils flare.

Then, without another word, he grabs you—lifts you like you weigh nothing and tosses you over his shoulder, one big hand landing a sharp slap against your bare ass.

You squeal, wiggling in his hold.

“Fuck Logan!”

Another spank, harder this time.

“What was that?”

You whimper, pressing your thighs together, breath shuddering. “Daddy.”

His smirk is damn near feral as he starts toward your bedroom.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Logan kicks the door shut behind him, the sharp click of the lock sliding into place making your stomach tighten.

You’re still slung over his broad shoulder, ass on display, his fingers kneading at your soft flesh like he’s debating whether to spank you again.

He takes his time.

Lets you feel every step—every shift of his powerful frame, every roll of his muscles under your body. It’s dizzying, being manhandled like this, thrown around like you weigh nothing. And fuck, you love it.

“Dunno if you deserve my time tonight, sugar.”

“Daddy,” you whine, squirming in his grip. “You’re being so mean.”

Logan flicks open his lighter with a practiced ease, the small flame illuminating his face for just a moment before he brings the cigar to his lips. The end glows ember-red as he takes a slow drag, cheeks hollowing, the scent of burning tobacco filling the air. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t break eye contact. Just watches you through the curling tendrils of smoke, that sharp-toothed smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A chuckle. Deep, throaty. Cruel.

“Yeah?” he drawls, voice thick and amused, the cigar bobbing between his teeth as he speaks. His palm finds your ass again, fingers kneading into soft flesh, teasing, taunting. “’Cause I ain’t the one sendin’ pictures, beggin’ to be ruined, huh?”

You pout, not that he can see it. “It was just a little tease.”

You swallow hard, heat curling in your stomach, but Logan just snorts, exhaling a sharp puff of smoke through his nose like he doesn’t believe a damn word out of your mouth.

“Yeah? Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

And then you’re falling.

Your back bounces against the bed as Logan drops you without an ounce of gentleness, and a little oof leaves your lips. But before you can complain, before you can even think about sitting up, he’s already on you—big, warm, and so much, caging you in with that solid body like you’re tiny beneath him.

His knees press into the mattress, one rough hand spreading your thigh open like it’s his to play with. His other arm braces beside your head, keeping you right where he wants you, making you so, so helpless under him. You’re not, of course—you know how to push his buttons, how to whine and get your way.

Logan knows better.

Knows you’re a spoiled, needy gorgeous thing. Knows you love pushing him to his limit just to see how far he’ll take it.

Tonight, you’re fucked.

“You like bein’ a whore, huh? Like makin’ me work for it? Huh, bub?”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, his fingers dip between your thighs, sliding through your already-messy slick.

“Damn,” he mutters, voice low, guttural. The rasp in it sends a shiver down your spine. “Drenched for me already, huh?“

Your breath hitches when he slides a thick finger inside, slow at first, teasing. He watches your body react, watches the way you arch and whimper, all pretty and desperate under him.

Your hands curl into the sheets as you whine, bottom lip wobbles “M’not easy.”

Logan just chuckles, dark and knowing. His free hand grips your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“You sure about that, sweetie?” His fingers press a little deeper, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, unhurried strokes.

“This is mine”

You gasp, back arching, legs spreading instinctively. His touch is firm, practiced—he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to work your body until you’re shaking.

“I-" your voice squealing with delight, the more you cry for him.

“Yeah?” His thumb drags over your pouty bottom lip, like he’s thinking about stuffing it in your mouth.

And then—his fingers speed up.

The shift is sudden, brutal. From slow, teasing drags to deep, fast thrusts, curling just right, fucking you open with rough, unrelenting precision. His palm smacks against your soaked little cunt with every stroke, the sound loud, wet, filthy. The kind of sound that makes your cheeks burn. The kind of rhythm that makes you forget how to think.

Your back arches off the bed, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets, desperate to grab onto something, anything.

“Oh,” you gasp, nodding eagerly, shivering when he fingers your swollen, desperate cunt. eyes going all glossy and unfocused. “Oh—Logan—” ..★ ..★

Your face burns, but you don’t deny it. Can’t. Not when he’s got you like this—pinned beneath him, fingers buried deep, dragging you toward the edge like it’s nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, hands flying to his shoulders, clinging tight, nails digging into muscle like you need to ground yourself.

He hums in approval, lips quirking into a smirk.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Say it nice. Show me you deserve it.”

You’re already panting, thighs trembling as the pressure builds, but you force yourself to meet his gaze, batting your lashes. And then his mouth is on yours.

It’s not sweet. Not gentle. Logan kisses like he fights—rough, unrelenting, a clash of heat and dominance that steals the breath from your lungs. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, a sharp nip that sends a jolt of pleasure straight through you. You whimper against his mouth, but that only makes him bite harder, dragging his teeth along the plush curve before soothing the sting with his tongue.

The taste of copper blooms between you.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest as he licks into your mouth, tasting the blood, tasting you. He groans when his tongue meets the cool metal of your piercing, rolling against it, sucking your tongue into his mouth like he’s starved for it. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly as the kiss deepens into something messy, desperate.

Your lips are swollen, slick, the faintest trace of blood smeared between them as he finally pulls back, panting, his grip on you still tight, still possessive. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, smearing the crimson before he shoves his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue.

“Look at you,”

“Please, Daddy,” you breathe, voice dripping with sweet desperation. “Please fuck me. Want you so bad—”

Your words cut off in a gasp when he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty, aching.

Logan brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean, groaning low in his chest like he’s savoring you.

“Logan… Screw you” you whine, lifting your hips in an attempt to chase the pleasure you crave.

Wrong move.

His palm cracks against your ass, sharp and punishing.

“No,” he commands. “Stay still.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

The sound of his belt unbuckling makes your breath hitch. That sharp clink of metal, the slow drag of leather through the loops—it’s enough to have you clenching around nothing.

Logan knows it too. Knows exactly what that does to you.

He smirks, cigar between his teeth, letting his belt fall to the floor with a heavy thud. Then his hands go to his jeans, flicking the button open, dragging the zipper down slow—making you watch, making you wait.

You whimper, shifting under him, body already arching in silent desperation.

“Always so impatient,” he mutters, kicking his jeans off, watching you with those dark, heated eyes. “You know how this goes, sugar.”

Yeah. You do.

Because this isn’t the first time you’ve begged him like this, all messy and desperate, no teasing, no buildup—just pure, aching need.

And Logan’s never been the type to deny you.

You barely get the chance to breathe before he’s gripping your thighs, spreading you open, fitting himself between them.

No warning. No preparation. Just the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your slick, dripping entrance, pushing in deep.

You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs trembling at the stretch.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

You don’t remember exactly how it happened—how a night of harmless flirting turned into something permanent.

But somewhere between the stolen kisses in the dark and the way he fucked you, Logan decided you were his.

And you loved that.

You loved being spoiled.

Liked being taken care of.

Loved the feeling of his rough hands on your soft skin, the contrast of his calloused fingers slipping expensive jewelry onto you like you were some pretty little doll for him to dress up.

He made sure you had everything.

“You wanna act like a spoiled little thing—” he had rasped once, pinning you against the wall, cigar dangling from his lips.

You had just giggled, chewing your bubblegum, watching his eyes darken when your lips pouted around the pink sweetness.

“I am spoiled, daddy.”

Logan had exhaled, thick smoke curling around you both as he dragged his mouth up your neck, biting at your jaw, his voice a low growl—

“Yeah? Then I better make sure y’know who spoils ya.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Now, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his dog tags bouncing between your tits, his teeth sinking into your neck.

You know.

It burns—God, it burns—but you don’t care. You love it. Love how rough he is, how he takes you, he owns you.

“Fuck,” Logan growls, head dropping to your shoulder, voice thick with need. “So goddamn tight Cotton Candy —”

You whimper, legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his back. “Daddy, please—”

That’s all it takes.

With a low, ragged growl, Logan pulls back—just enough to slam back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your back arches off the bed, lips parting in a soundless gasp.

He sets a brutal pace, fast and deep, no softness, no hesitation—just pure, unrelenting need.

Each thrust punches the air from your lungs, leaves you gasping, whining, begging.

“Fuckin’ ruined for me,” Logan growls, voice thick with possession. “Ain’t no man ever gonna fuck you like this, baby. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, babbling out a breathless, “Yes, Daddy—only you, only you—”

Logan grunts in approval, pace punishing now, skin slapping against skin. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking against the wall, but you don’t care.

All you care about is him. His hands gripping your hips, his breath hot against

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Logan shifts, gripping your hips, pulling you up until your legs wrap tight around his waist. The new angle makes you see stars ..★ ..★ —his cock pressing impossibly deep, stretching you wide, claiming every inch of you.

Your lingerie—what’s left of it—is already slipping off your shoulders, straps hanging loose, fabric bunched up around your ribs. Logan’s fingers roam up your torso, curling around the delicate lace, and with one sharp tug—

Riiip.

You gasp, eyes wide, body jerking from the sudden tear of fabric against your skin.

“Logan!” you gasp, half-scolding, half-turned on.

He just smirks, watching the shredded lace fall from your body, leaving you completely bare. His voice is rough, teasing as his thumbs skim your nipples. Click—the dog tags hanging between your tits clink together.

“I’ll buy you another one, Cotton Candy,” he murmurs, like it’s nothing. Like he’ll buy you a thousand more just to tear them off again.

Your head falls back against the pillows, shivering as his hands roam, feeling every inch of you like he owns it.

And he does.

Logan leans down, chest pressing flush against yours, his cock hitting deeper—making you gasp. His shirt’s still on, fabric rough against your bare skin, but it doesn’t last long.

One-handed, he tugs it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

God, he’s huge.

Thick and broad, every inch of him veined and solid, muscles shifting beneath his scarred skin as he moves. The happy trail leads down to where he’s buried inside you, disappearing between your trembling thighs.

The cigar still hangs lazily from his lips, the ember burning low. A slow curl of smoke wafts up toward the ceiling.

Logan smirks down at you, rolling his hips slow, grinding against you—making you feel every inch of him.

“Needa fill ya to the brim, bub where you're already sweet and ready for me, is where my cock goes—where my dick belongs." he rasps, voice heavy with lust.

“Oh god…” You gasped, eyes wide, looking down at the way his cock was bulged inside of you.

Your lips part, a shuddering whimper slipping past. “Mm… Lo”

His smirk widens, hand sliding down to grip your throat, thumb brushing your jaw.

“Yeah, sugar,” he mutters, leaning in, breath hot against your lips. “Real deep. Make sure ya feel me all fuckin’ night.”

His mouth crashes against yours, the kiss sloppy, rough, all teeth.

His canines graze your lip before he bites, sharp and deep—just enough to sting, to bruise.

You whimper, fingers tangling in his thick hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

He groans at that, hips snapping forward, cock slamming into you so hard your back arches off the bed.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he growls, licking the blood from your swollen lip.

Then he grabs your hips and fucks you stupid.

─── ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ───

Your brain turns fuzzy, all soft and sweet, floating somewhere between pleasure and delirium.

Logan’s weight keeps you pinned, his body hot, muscles flexing, his hips slamming into you over and over until all you can do is take it.

His cock stretches you impossibly wide, dragging along that sensitive spot inside you with every brutal thrust. Your nails claw at his back, but you’re weak, barely able to hold onto him as your body trembles beneath him.

“D-Daddy—mm—s’too much…” Your voice is all breathy, slurred, almost drunk on him.

Logan just chuckles, that low, gravelly sound rolling through his chest. His cigar’s long gone now—probably crushed somewhere on the nightstand.

“Aww, what’s wrong, baby ?” he drawls, licking up the side of your throat. “My dumb lil’ candy can’t take it?”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, eyes glassy, lips parted. Every thrust punches another little whimper out of you, soft and broken, your thighs trembling around his waist.

He smirks at the way you’re gibbering now, no real words left—just babbling, whining, fists clenching and unclenching against his shoulders.

“C’mon, bubs,” he grunts, voice thick. “One more. Give me one more, yeah?”

You sob, shaking your head, but your body betrays you—your walls fluttering around him, sucking him deeper.

“Fuck—there ya go,” Logan groans, his rhythm stuttering, movements getting erratic. He’s close—real close.

His grip tightens on your hips, his pace turning sloppy, grinding deep until—

He pulls out at the last second, thick ropes of cum spilling across your chest, dripping down your belly.

You gasp, body twitching, still lost in the aftershocks.

Logan groans low in his throat, watching the mess he made, his fingers tracing through the pearly streaks painting your soft skin.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, half outta breath, voice wrecked.

You blink up at him, all fuzzy, pretty, lips swollen from his kisses, breath coming in little gasps.

Logan smirks, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

“Y’look real good like this, baby,”

[softcryz]

「 Round and round it goes. 」

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY IN STARS AND TIME!! This game is absolutely fucking phenomenal and you KNOW I had to conjure up something for it's first birthday. Wipes a tear. They grow up so fast

I HONESTLY WASN'T SURE THAT I WAS GONNA FINISH THIS ONE BUT I SURPRISED MYSELF AND DID!! RIGHT BEFORE THE SIFFRIN PLUSHIE DROPPED TOO!! Sorry I'm excited I haven't done anything big-ish like this in a LOONG time go my screenshots

I have a version of this where it's JUST sasasaapFrin and the star because my sibling said it'd make a good phone background, so I'll throw that in here too :]

[invincibledc]

Doll!reader x Yandere!Damian

Doll!reader who stumbles around the Wayne manor confused to why things are so big

Doll!reader who’s so pretty and cute with their soft clothing, cute blush, and a pink bow.

Doll!reader who gets picked up by dick who has a wide smile on his face. Petting the doll with soft coo’s

Doll!reader who doesn’t like this, why are they so small? And why is this man calling them “[name]”? Or perhaps, yelling it in confusion.

Doll!reader who tries to get out of the man’s hold only for a brown skinned teen to take them from the tanned man.

Damian, who put your body into this doll after joker killed you in a accident.

Damian, who always was obsessed with how you looked like a doll.

Damian, who was just crazy enough to get your mind placed into this doll.

But the cost was, your memories of you both together.

[ribbonsaikeaux]

Doll: Miss? Why do you get up up so early?

Witch, patting its head: early bird gets the worm, dear.

Doll, nodding then eyes lighting up with realization: The first thing Miss gets when she wakes up is this one!

Witch, confused: yes? And?

Doll: and Miss loves this one?

Witch, smiling: of course dear~

Doll, running around excitingly: MISS LOVES THIS ONE EVEN THOUGH ITS A WOOOORM!!!

Witch, laughing: sure dear. Sure.

[bernardsbendystraws]

It’s not unusual for Matt to stream. Typically, you’ll lay on the bed, out of view. You don’t like to be analyzed by his fans watching. It’s a lot of pressure. Matt is more than happy to respect this boundary even though there’s times when he just wants you to sit in his lap.

Tonight is different. He had already bitten his nails down to the nubs. He wants you. You’re scrolling on your phone, carefully keeping yourself out of the camera while you lay on the bed.

“Hold on, chat. I’m gonna put my camera off for a bit, something is glitching.” Matt’s words are followed by the sound of his fingers tapping a couple of keyboard buttons.

Using light steps, he crouches down to you, brushing your hair out of your face before gently placing a kiss on your forehead. “Will you…can you just—just come sit in my lap? Please?” he asks.

Your eyebrows furrow with confusion. Matt is quick to read your worries. “Camera is off, just….I just wanna hold you. Can I? Please, doll?” His question is sweet, overbearing with love. You let yourself nod, stretching out your arms as he picks you up—one of his favorite things to do.

Carrying you over to the chair, he lays you down gently in his lap, wrapping his arms around you to hold the controller.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispers, careful not to be loud enough for the mic to pick up.

You feel his warmth radiate onto you. Every once in a while, he’ll let his lips place a gentle kiss on your neck. He knows better than to shower you with kisses, knowing it would be too loud. But, the gleam in his eyes basically covers in your skin in affection. This is something so quiet—so peaceful. He’s not making you uncomfortable at all. In fact, your body feels like it’s floating.

And it’s all because of him.