#they called him daddy

[hollywoodsargeant]

logan via duracell !!! take out the “()”

https://twitter(.)com/duracell/status/1643326395378987012?s=46&t=Dy3Y8PrshStEbfuYQJBatA

x

I’M GONNA GO SO CRAZY ACTUALLY he’s so cute. i hate him. fucking untucked white shirt. i want to kiss him on the mouth. shoutout to the reply that says “can you slide me his number” bc Yeah. lookathim …

[feralforbeanix]

He loved her immediately I'm gonna cry

[sebbianas]

marauders doing the hear me out cake trend and remus with a straight face putting monty

[lotus-pear]

"stop making akechi pancake jokes its 2024" no fuck you

[thundersoothers]

John Price who does whatever his wife wants 🫡🫡 MA’AM YES MA’AM!!

I think he’s a lover for real and is a sucker for his wife like whatever she wants he will do or he will get. Calls her “The Missus” and “The Wife” but will never call you “the ball and chain” and frowns at people who call their wives that

He’s all “my wife this” and “my wife that” blah blah blah I love my wife yes my wife my wife my wife

And when you come home with a dog at 2AM drunk as fuck sobbing over it because you found it on the street and it’s so cute and little and you’re like “pleaseeeee please baby it’s so cute I know you said no pets, but pleaseeee!” he’s like oh my fucking god, fine. Yes you can have the dog

And he’s the type to say I don’t want the dog, it’s yours not mine, but then you come home after work and he’s training it how to protect you, and also he says no dogs in the bed and then he will cuddle the dog to sleep while you have to big spoon him

I love this man I wanna be his wife

MORE ABOUT THIS HERE

AND HERE

[shotmrmiller]

oooo to be simon's partner who is fully aware of what he does, having learned all of the shit (both good and bad) he's done once things started looking like y'all were going to be more than the occasional hookup because to be with him is to always be prepared for the worst and it's best you be well informed before making it official because once you're his, he's not letting go.

you don't bring it up much, no want to know anything past if he's coming home now or in a few months time and it's all well and good until one day, you wake with your patience threadbare thin and his usual protectiveness seemed so suffocatingly overbearing that you snap if the way he keeps breathing down your fucking neck is how he treats the people they keep for interrogation and his face tightens in an instant, usual warm eyes hardened into the cold steel of a winter's night.

"you'd know if that were the case."

you hadn't been serious, of course, just pulled a stereotype out of the many military movies he likes to watch just to grunt at all the inaccuracies in it but now seeing his game face slip on so seamlessly, especially after only ever having experiencing his softer side-

heat licks up the sides of your jaw at the thought of being at the receiving end of that. he's already naturally intense, his attention usually feeling like being under a magnifying glass but what if- what if that focus became a crosshair?

a thrum courses through you, from the tips of your toes up to the crown, akin to the hum of electricity surging through power lines. would he cause you pain and lap at the tears that wet your cheeks? would he get off on it? bringing you to your knees after only ever bringing him to his?

"i can see the smoke comin' out ya ears, luv. gotta make sure this is somethin' you actually want, i can be quite thorough."

(the eggs burn on the stove after letting him fuck you on the countertop until your eyes cross and you see two of him.)

[helloilikepurple]

DC X DP - DeAged

The Nasty Burger explosion took a lot from Danny.

Stopping Dan meant nothing when Danny lost everything. His friends, his parents, his sister, his teacher - all gone. Danny, desperate to not become Dan, fled. He would not let Vlad destroy the only thing he had left; himself. He didn't turn human again if he could avoid it. Let Danny Fenton die with his family.

He did what he could, trying to keep it all together. Avoid Vlad. Catch havoc-wreaking ghosts. Try to not have a panic attack every time he saw his reflection. FentonWorks became out-of-bounds. No one was sure how to turn off the portal or any of the house's defence mechanisms so it was taped up instead.

Danny kept the GIW away. They wanted his parents' research, even if they had to bend the law to get it. Danny would not let them have it. Never.

But the GIW was persistent and Danny weak from nearly two months of being Phantom and nothing else. He was so tired. Tired from grieving, from fighting, from wandering around, completely lost and alone.

The GIW got a lucky shot in. Danny went down. He woke up, still ghost, somewhere white. He'd trained himself not to have to turn back. He was grateful he did.

The GIW studied him. Danny did not have the energy to fight back. The will to survive. Curled up in his cell, bloody and becoming less human with every passing day, Clockwork finally intervened.

He could not let the future High King wither away into nothing.

With Nocturn's help, he whisked him away. His world was dying anyway. With no one to maintain the portal, it would soon overload and explode. The radiation would kill all life on Earth, leaving nothing behind, and taking with it the potential for new life. One world among infinite realities meant nothing. But Danny, as High King, is a singularity. A unique existence, only found in one reality. Clockwork, for the sake of everything that lives and dies, could not let Danny fade away.

Danny slept at the Far Frozen, dreaming of his family, his friends, and the stars he would one day rule over. He healed, wounds knitting together into scars and fractured core slowly, ever so slowly, repairing itself. A future Ancient, bound to protect all that is and will be, was bound to be very badly hurt from such a loss.

Clockwork only wished he could have done more, but to remove Danny too early would have spelt disaster worse than the deaths of billions. This boy would someday be someone he'd proudly call his grandson. Seeing that future alone was enough to make his own core ache for the young one.

The Infinite Realms wept for its child, still but a babe yet having suffered so much. It embraced its future King, blessing him with its loyalty and adoration. The ghosts of the realms, spread far and wide over distant realities, timelines and worlds, felt the loss too.

Danny healed, unaware of how loved and precious he was to so many - how far he was from alone. The dead's sudden quiet unsettled many. Enemies froze in the silent mourning, animosity forgotten. Raging wars came to abrupt ends. So many, unable to bear the ever-reaching, unidentifiable pain in the air killed themselves. Good, kind people cried alone.

Magic users, like Constantine and Zatanna, hid, waiting out the Infinite Realm's despair for its child. No one spoke of it, for fear of disrespecting the dimension between dimensions. But they hid, and they waited, and they couldn't help but worry for themselves and everything and everyone else.

Danny got a lot of visitors. Ancients, regular ghosts, crowded around his bed, gifting him blessings and support. Danny slept, he healed, and his world died, taking with it all he'd known. He wouldn't remember or know of any of this when he woke  - even the memories of his pleasant dreams will have left him. He'll awaken and think himself entirely alone.

But he'll know, someday.

Clockwork will make sure of it.

---

Danny doesn't know where he is or who he is.

He has a vague idea. His name. His life and his death. But so much is so distant, like impressions on sand, washed away by the ocean. He knows he should be bigger. He knows this isn't home. He knows there is no home anymore.

He knows there are people he misses, but he doesn't know who they are or where they've gone. He knows so little yet so much. White walls and orange hair, green (toxic, writhing green) and hazmat suits, white and black and orange and blue. Expensive, Packers-branded cologne, burning flesh, the scream of an alarm and laughter and fear and hope and love and pain and loss. Disjointed flashes, snippets of another life.

And this isn't familiar - this city and these people. These crowded, filthy streets aren't home, but there's no home anymore so of course they aren't. And maybe Danny should be afraid. He doesn't know where he is, or how he got here. There are people, so tall, walking around him not sparing him a glance. It's loud and smelly and so much to process all at once.

But Danny doesn't care because he's so tired, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep the day away. But he doesn't have a home, so obviously he doesn't have a bed either. He looks around for somewhere else to sleep, rubbing at his chest subconsciously as he does.

There, a building, on the other side of the road. The windows are tinted, but the doors open and Danny, through the crowds and passing traffic, catches a glimpse of what has to be a couch. Maybe the people that own the building will let him sleep on their couch for a little bit.

So he crosses the street, sticking close to the legs of some lady with skinny heels that go tap-tap-tap so the cars don't go because they can't see him. The lady turns to go a different way after but it's okay because Danny is in front of the building now.

He pushes the door open and slips inside. It's quieter inside, and warmer. Danny wasn't cold outside but in here there's a nice heat that makes him feel even sleepier. He looks around at the fancy chairs and potted plants and lights, and is happy to see there are couches. Long couches, with lots of pillows and space for him to spread out.

He walks up to the desk. He's too short to see over it, and it makes him kind of angry because he's sure he's supposed to be taller. But he figures maybe he remembers wrong because people don't just shrink. Except, he's a halfa so maybe ghosts do?

"Hello?"

There's a lady here too, behind the desk, but unlike the one he followed across the street she has short, curly hair. Danny wonders if she's wearing skinny heels too. Leaning his head back, he can see her look up, glance around, and then look back down.

Danny pouts. Did she not see him?

"Hello?"

He waves an arm this time, reaching as high as he can to catch her attention. She finally sees him, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry! Hello." She has a nice voice.

"Your voice is pretty."

She smiles, and Danny decides her smile is nice too. "Why thank you. You have a pretty voice too. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I please sleep on your couch? Just for a little bit."

"Of course you can. Would you like a blanket? I could fetch one for you from the staff room."

Danny shakes his head. "I'm okay. Thank you."

"Alright. But if you change your mind, do tell me."

"You're very nice."

"Thank you, but it's really no problem. Not much to do today anyway."

"You should sleep too then. Sleep is good."

She giggles. "That is a very good idea. I just might take your advice." Danny nods. He has lots of good ideas. "Okay. I'm gonna' go nap now. Bye-bye."

"Sleep well."

There are a few couches, and for a bit Danny's not sure which one to sleep on. He chooses the one with the most pillows. It's very comfy, and the pillows are nice too. He puts one under his head and hugs another, curling up around it. He falls asleep in seconds.

-

When a toddler with black and blue eyes asked to sleep on one of the couches on in the reception hall of Wayne enterprises, May had assumed he was one of Bruce's boys. He certainly fit the type Gotham's favourite playboy liked to adopt, and it wasn't unusual for his wards to show up out of the blue.

Once she found Tim Drake passed out on the floor under her desk. Apparently, he'd been hiding from Dick who was visiting from Blüdhaven and forgot to bring his coffee with him, consequently falling asleep while he waited for her to arrive so he could ask her to go pick some up for him. That had been an interesting Thursday morning. 

On another memorable occasion, Cass, Bruce's only official daughter, and her girlfriend Steph had shown up, said hi, went upstairs, then came back down after about an hour, giggling as they ran out with a wave goodbye. Not even ten minutes later, Bruce himself stumbled out of the elevator, absolutely covered in purple glitter. May remembers raising an eyebrow and asking if Bruce wanted her to have another suit brought in.

He'd ended up collapsing on one of the couches with an exhausted sigh, and said he'd have Alfred pick him up instead. He left a sparkly trail behind him when he walked, and the couch he sat on had to be replaced because, even after numerous cleaning attempts, no one could get the glitter out. He had glitter in his hair for months afterwards.

So, May hadn't bat an eye when the little boy came in. Well aware Bruce had several meetings scheduled that day, she sent him an email saying one of his kids was taking a nap in the reception hall and resolved to look out for the boy herself. Throughout the day, she made sure to check on him often, making sure no one picked him up ran (this was Gotham after all).

He slept soundly for most of her work day, barely shifting. She ended up putting a blanket on him herself during her lunch break and leaving him a water bottle and little snack for when he woke up. She also made sure security kept an eye on him whenever she left for whatever reason.

It was well into the afternoon when Bruce finally replied to her email and asked if his kid was still sleeping downstairs. She said yes, and not long after he arrived on the ground level. He walked up to her desk and asked if his kid had caused her any trouble. She smiled and assured him no.

Then Bruce asked where Tim was.

"Sorry? Tim isn't here today."

Bruce frowned, looking just as confused as she felt. "My apologies. You said one of my wards was asleep here. I assumed it was Tim."

"Oh! No, no, it's not Tim. Well, I don't actually know his name but the little guy has been here since this morning." She gestured to the toddler in question.

Bruce turned around, saw him, and frowned. "He's not one of mine."

"He's not?"

"No. Are you sure he's not an employee's child?" He kept his eyes on the boy, eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes, I am. Only three employees brought in their children today, and all of them are ten or above. He can't be older than five." She frowned now too, turning to her computer to double check. "I'll send out a company-wide email to be sure. I should have done this sooner. I'm sorry, I was just so sure he was under your care."

"It's alright, May. I'm not upset. I'm just worried about him. When about in the morning did he get here?"

She glanced up, but Bruce was still looking at the sleeping boy. "A little after nine."

"And he's been sleeping all that time?"

"Yes, as far as I'm aware."

"Alright. Thank you for looking after him. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. I'll reach out to you if anyone identifies him."

He nodded appreciatively and walked over to the boy. She watched, frustrated with herself. She's worked as one of Wayne Enterprise's receptionists for over four years. She should have known better than to just assume some random, black haired blue eyed child was Bruce's kid. She should have at least reached out to make sure that was the case.

She sighed as Bruce knelt down by the couch and gently shook the little boy awake, resting her head in the palm of her hand. This poor child. His poor parents. They must be worried sick.

She has to make this right.

---

[wild0moon]

i bring you: my casual clothes tankman design (and steve too) i am so normal about found family tankdad

happy pride month lol

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[jakeperalta]

keep seeing "taylor hates matty just like us!!" like.. she hates him because he broke her heart I hate him because he is a legitimately garbage person we are not the same

[ghouljams]

Ok, not my kink, don't write this sort of thing ever, but!

I had a dream and the only way to get it out of my head is to write it down so this idea is free to whatever nasty pervert(loving) wants it because I know some of y'all are into this.

(massive tw for faux-cest)

Going to a bar and having some guy hit on you, he's not taking a hint and it's getting a little scary. You lock eyes with the oldest guy in the bar and in a panic you tell the guy that your dad is here, before rushing over to him. Which is a mistake because the closer you get the more you think, God this guy can't be 50, but there's just enough salt in his dark beard that you think maybe, maybe, he'll be sympathetic enough to understand you just needed an out.

You stop in front of him in a rush, all the air leaving your body as he eyes you, up and down, with all the appreciation that shouldn't come from a man playing your father. And it all comes out in a rush:

"I'm so sorry, this is so weird, that guy over there won't leave me alone and I said you were my dad, because I panicked and I just-" You squeeze your eyes shut to get your mouth to stop running, and he's just staring at you when you open them again, "-can you please pretend to be my dad?"

AND GOD if that doesn't turn Price on. Some sick twisted switch in the back of his head turning over as he smiles and tells you "of course" before looping his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. His nose nudging your hair to scent your shampoo and his big hand spreading its fingers wide over your stomach, dipping under the waistband of your skirt. He turns you so you're hugging him when the guy comes over to shoot his shot again, wedges his thick thigh between yours and forces your hips forward.

He doesn't want any boys "sniffing around his little girl" you learn when he shoos the guy off.

He doesn't let you go even after driving your annoyance away. He all but drags you towards a dark table in the back, insistent that you let him "keep you safe" the rest of the night. You feel like you've jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Going from some college dick to a man who's calling you "sweetheart" and "darling" and introducing you as his "daughter" to his leering friends even as his hand is creeping under your skirt.

[becausebuckley]

i just think buck deserves to be called all of the pet names. honey makes him grin, baby makes him blush, sweetheart makes him blush. eddie calls him my love and buck nearly proposes on the spot. clipboard buck gets yes, dear. one day, eddie will be able to call him mr diaz, and that might just be his favourite of all

[coulsons-band]

pedro pascal doesn’t owe you shit.

it is absolutely fine to be disappointed by his absence at cannes. i am too. but he does not have to be there.

for whatever reason he’s pulling away from the attention. the esquire article talked about how guarded he is and his socials have really slowed down. maybe he’s unprepared or overwhelmed by all the tlou hype. i mean his follower count went up by the tens of thousands the day after the premiere. that’s insane.

but some of you have lost the plot. the ones wearing d*ddy’s little girl shirts in fucking public and yelling d*ddy at him at events and trying to convince everyone whether he’s queer or not and complaining there isn’t an explicit scene of him fucking in the strange way of life. it’s not a gay porn made for your fetish. ‘oh but narcos!!’ that’s called characterization. read literally any article from almodovar and understand why sex isn’t the point.

interacting with paparazzi content and making cute little edits - jfc. that’s creating demand and supply and paparazzi know no fucking boundaries. man’s got anxiety and no doubt the paps and fans watching his every move are probably making that worse.

let him make movies and rotate through his four shirts in peace. pedro pascal doesn’t owe anyone shit.

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital illustration of Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright from Ace Attorney. They are drawn fairly small in the middle of the image. Edgeworth is getting into Phoenix's face and holding a file in his left hand, he says "Prove useful or get out of my damn office!". Phoenix leans back a bit with his hands up, he looks at Edgeworth with wide eyes and says "Yes, sir!". End description.]

Edgeworth can be intimidating

[bucksboobs]

Tommy strikes me as the kind of guy that’s expected to top in the casual scene but does actually enjoy getting to bottom. That’s why the first time Buck turns him around in the middle of making out, shoves him down and bends him over the bed, Tommy lets out a reckless moan so loud Buck has to cover his mouth. (that doesn’t stop Buck from moaning just as loud though because he loves when his partners come apart like that) It leads to a long stretch of Tommy being the one that gets stretched iykwm 😏

[ink-n-shadow]

dollification w/ sugardaddy!price where he thinks for you and dresses you up in all the clothing he spoils you in (in more ways than one ;) ) and whenever you snap out of that fuzzy mindset he's all there to hold you and anchor you back into reality i mean what

no because sugardaddy!price makes me SICKKKK😩

PRETTY DOLL

𝜗𝜚 the one where sugar daddy!price gets his doll ready for a fancy dinner

𝜗𝜚 pairing: sugar daddy!price x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: no smut but adult themes (minors—DNI), dollification, slight dumbification?, soft dom!price, price just being in complete control, so unedited

sugar daddy!price loves nothing more than dressing his little doll, fingers ghosting up your spine as he zips up dress and sponges gentle kisses up your throat. it’s one of the new ones he had just bought you, expensive price tag laying crumpled on the floor at your feet as he spins you around to face him.

“y’look good, doll,” price murmurs softly and reaches behind him to pick up is still lit cigar the its porcelain ashtray, taking a mouthful of vanilla-tinged smoke and breathing it out across your exposed skin as his hand caresses your hip gently. “think y’should wear the louboutins tonight.”

you don’t even argue, simply dipping your chin down in a demure nod as you lean forward to bury your face into price’s hairy chest. the gesture makes a lithe chuckle leave his lips, his free hand skirting up your body to card through your hair gently. “sit on the bed f’me, doll. i’ll get ‘em for you.”

you let price push you back onto the foot of his expansive king-sized bed, leaning back on the palms of your hands and blinking dumbly as you wait for price to return. when he appears from the walk-in closet, designer heels in hand, you sit up eagerly with a lovesick smile stretched across your lips.

as always, price places his cigar between his teeth as he (rather slowly) falls to his knees between yours, calloused palm dragging up your calf to remind you to put your leg up for him. with practiced ease, price slips the heel onto your foot, adjusting the straps as necessary and sponging more prickly kisses up your leg with a soft hum.

“whatcha think of ‘em, doll? they pretty enough?” price murmurs into the lotioned skin of your other calf as he slips the other shoe onto your other foot, eyes fluttering up to meet your glazed ones. when you simply answer with a dazed nod, he’s clicking his tongue and pushing up onto his knees, one hand continuing to adjust the straps of your heels and the other pushing your cheeks into a soft pout. “c’mon…use y’words, sweetheart.”

john’s words make a soft whine leave your lips, trying halfheartedly to pull away from the grip he has on your cheeks as your glossy eyes flutter down to meet his.

“mhm. really pretty, daddy,” you breathe shyly as you glance down at your feet, admiring the nearly thousand dollar heels now adoring your body. "do you think m'pretty?"

they aren’t the most expensive article of clothing on your body (hell, the dress you’re wearing has to be a couple thousand), but they might be the prettiest, a sleek white with swarovski crystals lining the straps and the classic red bottom sole glinting in the light. not to mention the expensive lingerie hidden beneath your dress, or the diamond jewelry littering your skin.

john brings you out of your floaty headspace by tugging you up to your feet, hands finding the slopes of your hips to stand you upright and push down the skirt of your dress that had ridden up. he moves a hand up to push the stray strands of hair that had fallen into your vision, tucking them behind your ear with a gentle sweep of his calloused thumb.

"mhm—always think you're the prettiest doll in the world. now c'mon, we're late for our dinner reservations."

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission