#dollbaby

[explicette]

[aliannnna]

[kimmiesclaykreations]

Good Morning. Isn’t she just the cutest? This is Clara. I’d like to tell you a little story about how I came up with her name. Back in December I did one of those call ins on the radio where you have to dial the number and be a certain caller to win. We were driving down the road on our way to dinner and my Honey said that was Santa’s sleigh sound on the radio, well I didn’t hear it but I called in and won! I was so excited, I have tried before and never won. I won tickets to the Nutcracker Ballet, a gift certificate to Jeff Rubys Restaurant and tickets to Yuletide Village. The ballet was absolutely amazing, I loved it so much. Have any of you seen it? Clara is the name of lead in the ballet. My Clara has an adorable tutu, Tierra, lots of fun detail and Swarovski crystals for added sparkle. Every little piece was hand sculpted by me. I hope she makes you Smile. 🥰 If you’d like to make her yours, she’s now in my Shop. Have a Super Saturday. Have a Super Saturday. (((BigHugs))) 🩰💖🌟 . . . . . #kimmiesclaykreations #polymerclay #polymerclayart #polymerclayartist #artist #figurine #sculpture #miniature #collectibles #toycollector #toycollection #artoy #toyart #toydesign #artsandcrafts #toycommunity #artdoll #doll #dollbaby #baby #babies #kuddlekid #kuddlekids #nutcrackerballet #ballet #swarovski #tutu #dollcollector #dollcollection #tierra https://www.instagram.com/p/CnHmKhZuCBp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[boneforts]

perhaps The Boy™

[bitterishvices]

♡ so fucking special♡

[theoriginaldresslove]

[bruce-wyatt-burner]

👀👀

[nerdsworld]

Breaking News: 😂😂

Babydoll Scandal Brewing@ Mattel

This year cannot get any weirder but it's trying.

Tuesday

08.01.2023

L.George

[stoppit-keepout]

[Image is a scan of a newspaper reading: To My Fried Santa Claus: Dear Santa Claus: I want a doll with curly hair that will go to sleep, like you used to bring my mamma when she was a little girl. I don not like these new fashioned dolls. I want an honest-to-goodness dollbaby that will go to sleep and a nice story book. I hope you do nottake the "flu" for I have had it and know how it makes you feel. Aged 9 years. Ruth Williams,]

"An honest-to-goodness dollbaby."

(source: The Miami Daily Record-Herald, December 20, 1918.)

[aliannnna]

[egyptroyal]

Tasked to Wood, Unified in Torch

"This is your sixteenth time asking me and it's still no, Doc."

"Where did you get the tech?"

"Not telling you."

"Rose..."

"I can do this forever, mister."

"Marian..."

"Nuh-uh."

"...Tyler."

"Not on your life."

"Save the kisses for me after we get through, yeah?"

[x-thedarkprince-x]

If this post gets 15k 10k notes by my birthday (January 10th, 2024)

I'll turn this into a whole comic on Webtoon or Wattpad or some

@a-random-mooshroom @sweetface-the-dollbaby @xxstarryrosesxx @cloudxxiii @minty-cheese @t-is-tobi @moonystar2 @/anyone I forgot sorry :(

[martyrbat]

[ID: digital art of Harvey Dent in front of a blue background. He's gingerly touching the scarred side of his face as he smiles softly. White text next to him reads, ‘Maybe it's not so bad, after all...’ END ID]

I need more “Harvey Dent learns to love and accept himself” storylines :)

[theoriginaldresslove]

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

somnophilia with John wick from the prompts? 👉🏽👈🏽

jw & fem reader

gif by the wonderful @scarlettspectra. TRIGGER WARNING(s) Somnophilia (from Latin somnus "sleep" and Greek φιλία, -philia "friendship") is a paraphilia in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is unconscious. & a bit of exhibitionism

You had waited for him all day. Flitting around the house, cleaning and cooking and making sure everything was in line for his arrival. Wearing his favorite dress, playing his favorite music on the stereo, chilling a fresh bottle of his favorite bourbon.

A month and a half. That’s how long it had been since you last saw the person  whose presence gave meaning to your life. So, naturally, you were brimming with excitement, heart pattering wild and strong in your chest, body giddy and jittery—unable to regulate haywire nerves. John was coming home. 

He wasn’t often gone for this long. It was an important job. Something involving a very, very rich man paying him to complete a very, very difficult task. Of course, you knew what his tasks usually included, but didn’t like to think about it too much—couldn’t think about it too much…

It was just hard to imagine…your John killing someone. The same John that took bugs outside instead of squashing them, who cleaned up his bar table and tipped more than generously, who always held the door open and returned shopping carts. Who was sweet and kind and treated you like you were made of paper-thin glass unless you specifically requested otherwise. 

The text comes in mid-evening, just as you’re putting his untouched dinner away and cleaning up the kitchen. Hey, dollbaby, my flight got delayed until tomorrow at six AM. I’m sorry. Don’t stay up worrying about me.

It’s disappointing, but you have to admit you’re used to this. It just comes with what he does, and you’ll gladly endure it with a smile for him. However, that doesn’t mean you can grant his request and stop yourself from worrying. With a little sigh, you type back: Okay, John. Love you.

I Love you, too.

You try and pass the time; go for a late swim, read a book, snuggle up on the big leather couch to scroll TV channels for movies. Except none of that works to distract you from John’s missing shadow, and you just end up with your head buried in a throw pillow, inhaling his residual scent and pretending the cushion is his chest.

You decide to invite some friends over for a good distraction, and they bring card games and beer and wine. You have your own stash of alcohol, so between you and three of you closest, you end up drinking a little too much and passing out halfway through game night. 

John finds you in the icy blue light of breaking dawn, breathing even and slow and slung haphazardly on top of your mattress. The residual burn of spirits heat your skin ruddy, and you have long since kicked the comforter off to leave yourself bare and unsuspecting of the hungry wolf who’s cock fattens at the sight of you—his big tshirt snuggling against your curves, the hint of a panty seam visible along the soft skin of your hip

He discards his clothes into a pile on the floor, too starved for flesh to care about being his usual tidy self, and climbs on the bed to run the tip of his tongue along that delicious cut crease of supple flesh.

You stir and whine, hand coming up momentarily to bat the tickly feeling away, only to weakly fall back down onto the bed, its task lost in the dark deep of your slumber. 

With a wicked grin, he moves his mouth down your thigh, licks into the seam behind your knee, then treks a wet path of kisses over your calves. You squirm and kick, trapped by heavy sleep, defenseless under his tongue.

He knows that, by now, you’d be begging him sweetly to make you cum, arching up into his teasing mouth for more, hanging on to his beautiful throw of silky hair as he laps at your panties. Always so impatient, his sweet girl. 

God, he missed you. Missed your smell and taste, the way you buck your hips, that little tender space between thigh and cunt that makes you squeal when he flicks it with his tongue. 

He nudges your panties to the side to reveal an already glistening wet and swollen pussy, your clit ripe and fresh, ready for his mouth to pluck and taste. Even in your sleep, you’re more than ready to sheath his cock.

He suckles at your folds gently while you stir awake with a sleepy little moan. “J-joh-jjj,” you slurr, gripping at the plump pillows while your cunt tenses and thighs attempt closing. 

So sensitive in that foggy place between sleep and wake, with his familiar mouth on you, impatient and insistent.

He holds your thighs open and eats—devours your cunt sloppily from the back, groaning about how good you taste and how much he missed it. “It’s okay, baby, no no no, come’ere, I gotcha. That’s my girl.” Two fingers curled inside, coaxing a fast approaching orgasm from your perfect little pussy. 

“Gonna, gonna-ah c-cum,” you tell him, clenching on his fingers, once shy clit now grinding down onto his tongue. You’ve just missed him so much, and it’s been so long, and you haven’t even touched yourself at his specific request, so it’s no surprise that it only takes seconds of cunnulingus just the way he’s learned you love it to have you soaking the sheets below your hips. 

“Good job,” he coos, bringing you down with little kisses to your puffy lips and chafed thighs, sucking his fingers clean and closing his eyes against the savory flavor of your slick. “You okay, babydoll?” 

“Uh huh,” you tell him, still twitching from the heavy orgasm, eyes threatening to close again, too tired to wipe the little bit of spittle off your chin. 

You feel him shift behind you, and then his thick tip press against your still spasming entrance, ready to overwhelm and overstimulate and leave you a babbling mess. His cock is built for your pleasure and demise, and as he enters, invading and pillaging the sensitive walls of your cunt, your eyes fly open and you sob into the pillow.

Something like, “o-oh fuck-“

“Shhh, baby.” His warm touch finds the base of your skull, that soft tug on your unkempt tangles guiding you back into his slow, deliberate thrusts. “Your friends are in the living room, gotta be quiet for me.” 

“Y-yeah Jo-ohn.” You try and tell him just how much you missed him, but the words jumble and stick, translating to half-muffled moans. Tears bead at your waterline in submission to that first stretch of his unfairly girthed cock. 

He understands your incoherent babbles perfectly. “Fuck,” he growls, tip kissing your cervix, “I missed you, too. Missed this tight little cunt.”

You have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the animalistic sounds of pleasure at bay, as he fucks you. So often, this beautiful man makes love to you, slow and soft. This is not one of those times. 

If you could think, it would be about how loud the sound of his hard pelvis clapping against your soft ass is, as he chases that otherwise unobtainable high that only your cunt can bring—that he thought about every single minute he was gone…the reason he’s alive.

You’re sobbing from it all—the way he splits you open so perfectly, the tiny dark whispers of reassurance, the fact that he’s alive and well and all over and around you; big hand pressing your lower back down for better and deeper access inside your cunt.

The way he just knows, even in his own rough desperation, how to unravel you—make you see the cosmos and beyond, into the soupy blackness of unexplored universe. 

“You coming again, baby?” He doesn’t have to ask, because he knows you are, more than familiar with the way you unfold and shatter. 

“Y-yeah-huh.”

He puts you on your back with practiced gentleness, and cups your sweaty cheeks in his hands before sucking your bite-swollen lower lip into his mouth, managing to stay buried inside you through the easy transition, swallowing your whimpers while his cock works out the final flutters of your orgasm. 

“Oh, John,” you say, when he stops licking at your throat to allow the both of you some much-needed, panting breath. “F-fuck, John.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, brushing the sweaty hair off your temples and pecking tiny wet kisses over your face. “I gotcha, it’s okay. Johnny’s here. Open your pretty eyes, let me see you.” 

In a deep, stuttering thrust, when you clamp like a vice around him, he loses himself inside of you, and you are with him. Utterly overtaken, love burning through your blood, body singing in rapturous heavenly choir. This is as close to the pearly gates you will ever get, you think, as you float down from the high. 

There is a cut on his temple that you failed to notice, and you touch just below. “You got hurt.” 

“I’m better, now.” 

With him nestled beside you, arms wrapping around and sheltering your body with his own, legs supporting your bottom and cock still softening inside your cunt, you feel sleep creep back up like an old friend.

It isn’t long before he’s succumbed to it, himself, happily snoozing nestled in your hair. You don’t know what he’s been through in that long stretch of absence, but it doesn’t matter now. 

He’s here with you, and that’s enough.

[the-haiku-bot]

thought u ppl

would like this exchange between

me&fathergnome

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

thought u ppl would like this exchange between me&fathergnome