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venomquill · 7 months

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Dolls and Plushies

[Gregory should absolutely be grateful for the life he has. At one point, he was. That point happened to die after his mother did as did any strings of required care and respect binding his stepfather to Gregory. Although he had a stepfather who was happier with him when he didn't know Gregory was there and two older stepsiblings locked in an eternal war over who was worse—the spoiled brat or the bully—he had a house to live in and food to eat. That was more than could be said for some kids.

Through it all, he had his stuffed Bonnie plush, the last gift his mother had given him before she passed. Just as long as nothing happened to his best friend, everything would be alright.]

Gregory could see it from his bedroom down the hall. He cradled his teal, red, and blue Glamrock Bonnie plushie in his arms.

His stepbrother tried to watch TV, his gangly limbs sprawled over the couch, and a plate of pizza rolls on his chest. An explosion happened on TV, drawing no reaction from him. His stepsister, older than Gregory by only a year or so, trotted out of her room all smiles and humming. Her bright dress and carefully molded twin braids contrasted their oldest sibling like a daisy and mildew. In her hand was one of her “prized” dolls. She was just on the cusp of getting too old for dolls but wasn’t technically there yet.

“Oh, brother~!” she chimed.

He grunted.

“I want the TV now.”

“You had it all night. You watched the princess movie,” he pointed out.

She scoffed and drew herself up. “It was not a princess movie. Anyway, you’ve had it the last hour. I’m bored. You have things you could be doing.”

Owen popped another pizza roll into his mouth, not looking away from his TV show. “You’f had it all nif.”

Gabriela pulled the doll out with a flourish. Owen’s dark eyes caught the action, and he stopped chewing. He looked away from his show and turned his attention to her. She held the doll’s body in one hand and the arm in her other. She pulled the doll’s arm to an awkward angle, but not quite to its breaking point. “Want me to call Da-ad~?”

He held her gaze for a long moment before swallowing and pausing the TV. He shoved himself up, cradling the remaining few pizza rolls. “Fine. Hell-beast.”

She let go of the doll’s arm. “Can I have one?”

He stuffed the remaining pizza rolls in his mouth.

She huffed at him, but he pointedly ignored her and stalked around the couch to toss the plate into the sink, where it clanked noisily amongst the other dishes.

When Gregory realized the teen’s feet headed toward the hall, he shut the door, careful to twist the knob slowly and quietly to minimize the noise. He stepped back and looked around his messy room haphazard with various toys and papers—school-related and not. For a moment, he held his breath, expecting the worst. But, when nothing happened, he released it.

Then, his door opened.

Gregory jumped so hard his teeth clacked together. “Owen!” he snapped.

“Gory!” Owen cooed, sauntering into Gregory’s room. “I saw you close the door, so I thought you must have just come back. So, you’re not busy, right?” He grinned down at him, all teeth and his eyes gleaming in malevolent frustration.

Gregory stayed in place, knowing what his flight attempts would accomplish. “Well, actually, I—” He kept his tone calm, knowing well what his fight attempts would accomplish.

“Great!” His stepbrother grabbed him by the back of his shirt—never by the hand, wrist, nothing with skin—and dragged him into the hall. Gregory stumbled after him, cursing himself profusely. From the living room, the TV had changed from something about superheroes to stylized ponies. Gabriela, a can of soda in her hands and halfway to the couch, tossed her head back at the noise and grinned upon seeing her brothers. She waved at Gregory.

Hell-beast was right.

Then, as they crossed into the pale tones of the hallway, Owen spotted what Gregory held in his left arm. Gregory tried to tighten his grip, but Owen grabbed Bonnie and yanked him out of Gregory’s grasp. The younger boy was forced to let go lest his stitching get torn out. Owen laughed. “You’re still playing with this old thing? You’re twelve, now, not five. I know Dad got you real things to play with.”

Gregory sorely wanted to bite back. But that’s what Owen wanted—an invitation, an excuse. “Give him back, Owen, please.”

Owen looked at the teal, red, and blue rabbit—a fading echo of the since missing glamrock—with a thoughtful expression. “You know what? I think I’m going to do you a favor, little bro.”

Gregory’s eyes narrowed. “Owen, please give him back. Now.”

Owen’s thoughtful expression widened into a grin. Gregory tensed, preparing to dart in whatever direction the teen suddenly shot off in.

That direction happened to be the living room.

Gregory raced after the older, taller teen as he sprinted across the carpeted living room. Owen slowed down only long enough to throw open the back door. The chill of late autumn smacked into them. Gabriela’s protests to the wide-open door were lost to the night as they rushed into the backyard. Owen let go of Bonnie with one hand and pulled his arm back. Gregory’s eyes went wide with horror as he marked the trajectory of his best friend to be that of their left neighbor, notorious for their pack of five dogs.

Gregory launched himself at his brother, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him forward with his weight and momentum. Owen howled as he fell and hit the grassy earth with a hard huff! Gregory snatched his rabbit and clambered off the stunned teen. He’d barely stumbled a few steps away before the teen’s hand lashed out and grabbed him by the ankle. He went down, twisting himself sideways onto his back so that he wouldn’t land on his best friend. Owen shoved himself up to his knees, spitting out a few dirty blades of grass that had presumably gotten in his mouth when Gregory used his head as leverage to get up. A spot of blood from where something struck him swelled on his forehead. Fury blazed in those caramel brown eyes of his—a color Gabriela never passed up an opportunity to point out was the same shade as Gregory’s.

For the first time in a very, very long time, terror—real, actual terror and not the dread of a night of teasing and roughhousing that would leave him physically sore and emotionally bruised—bolted through him. Gregory kicked his forearm as hard as he could, receiving a strangled yelp and freedom in return. He tore up grass with his nails in his clumsy attempts to sprint to the back door before getting fully off the ground. Owen rushed after him.

Gregory’s first immediate thought was his bedroom, but there was no lock on the door. None of the kids’ bedrooms had locks. The bathroom did, though. So, he raced into the bathroom, slammed it shut behind himself, and clicked the lock into place. Owen slammed his fist into the door. “Open the damn door you little shit!”

Deeper in the house, Gabriela complained, probably about his language.

Gregory backed up; arms wrapped tight around his best friend. Sink, toilet, bath-shower, towel basket. Three toothbrushes and a half-empty tube of toothpaste sat on the sink. There was no place to hide in this dumb little bathroom. There was no window. Owen was pounding at the door. If he was lucky, the teen would run off to grab a lockpicking instrument and Gregory could make a break for it. If he was unlucky, Gabriela would get fed up with his tirade and hand him a butterknife to unlock the bathroom door.

“Owen James Smith!” the house shaking below stopped every noise in the house. Even the wind leaking in from the open back door was cowed.

From deeper into the house, the back door shut. For some reason, he doubted Owen did it.

Shoes thumped down the stairs flanking the hall. “What the hell is going on? Why are you bleeding?”

“Gregory tackled me,” Owen said, able to force some indignance into his otherwise quiet voice.

“Gregory: out of the bathroom.”

Steeling himself, Gregory unlocked the abused door and opened it. Even at this hour—eight in the evening, past dinner—he was still dressed up in his suit and tie. Eyes as light a blue as Gabriela’s trained on him. His stepfather gave Gregory a once over and his stepfather’s frown deepened. He tried to hold his stepfather’s gaze, but his eyes ended up averting on their own. “Owen took Bonnie and tried throwing him over the neighbor’s fence.”

“Christ. You’re bothering me for that?” He looked between them. When no further explanation or different answer was given, he said, “Go back to your rooms, both of you. You’re both grounded until Wednesday. And bring me your tablets.”

Owen let out a noise of discontent. Gregory choked out, “I didn’t do anything!”

“And you’ll continue to not ‘do anything’ in your room,” his stepfather concluded. “Now go or I’ll make it a week.”

Gregory bit back a complaint and slunk to his room. It could be worse. After all, he still had Bonnie. He set Bonnie under his bed and muttered, “Just for a minute, in case he tries anything funny.” Then, he picked up his dead tablet and walked back into the hall.

His stepfather took the device from him. “You’re too old for stuffed animals and that rabbit toy’s starting to get you into way too much trouble.”

Gregory’s blood ran cold.

Owen, staring straight at Gregory, failed to completely smother a grin.

“So, bring that here, too. We’ll clean out your room later, but that goes first.”

“Mom gave him to me!” Gregory burst out. “Bonnie’s my friend!”

“You’re not seven anymore, Gregory! You’re in middle school, act like it,” his stepfather countered sharply. “Your mother left us plenty of things. You don’t need an old stuffed rabbit, especially if it’s getting you into fights. Now bring it here.”

Gregory glared at Owen. “You told him to, didn’t you?”

“Now, Gregory.”

Gregory threw a sour look at his stepfather and stalked back into his bedroom. He pulled Bonnie out from under his bed and held him out so he could look him straight in the face. His sight blurred and his chest grew tight. The boy took long, hitched breaths, but the longer he looked into the rabbit’s eyes, the faster any type of resolve he tried to build dissolved.

He couldn’t do it.

Bonnie was his best friend.

Gregory narrowed his eyes at the bunny’s round, unblinking ones. Enough was enough. He unlatched and opened his bedroom window, grabbed his backpack, and managed to hurriedly stuff some messy items in before his door opened. He jumped out. Owen’s voice called after him, and then his stepfather’s. Then Gregory was running down the street and into a life he had no clue how to live.

“Thank you, Gregory.”

Any, um… any time, Bonnie.

AO3: Dolls and Plushies

Book Trailer!

#fnaf #fnaf security breach #gregory house #fnaf gregory #fanfiction trailer #fanfiction #help needed fanfiction #VenomQuill

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agapushka · 9 months

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Fanfic trailer || Only The Beginning

Fanfic: “Ignition”

Author: Revolutionary_Queen

✶ https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973556

Перевод: «Вспышка»

Переводчик: Элис Винтер

Где почитать: ✶ https://ficbook.net/readfic/10956220

✶ https://archiveofourown.org/works/32710351/chapters/81150070

✶ https://marvelsfan.com/fanfiction/4758-fanfik-vspyshka.html

#youtube #fanfiction trailer #marvel #the avengers #darcy lewis #steve rogers #bucky barnes #revolutionary_queen

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ana-swritings · 1 year

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Trailer "Struck By Lightning"

Hello, lovelies.

Here is the trailer for "Struck By Lightning". Hope you like. :)

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #trailer #fanfic trailer #fanfiction trailer #struck by lightning #ana's writings

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destielsnot · 1 year

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This was for a fic I gave up on lmaoo. But if people want me to try and continue to write it coz they’re interested then I might feel more obligated 🥲

I like making cool trailers for fics though it’s fun trying to get the feelings and theme across.

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elorberryart · 10 months

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painted this scene from the RWRB trailer :)

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lovelybucky1 · 6 months

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Babysitter

Kinktober Day 19- Breeding Kink

au created in part by @fuckmyskywalker 🫶

warnings: trailer trash!anakin, dub con, mentions of housewife kink, mentions of breeding kind, dry humping, no smut, this is bad tbh im sorry, 18+ minors dni

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

You never minded doing your neighbor Anakin favors. He is a single dad with three adult children and a grandchild, despite his young age. You don't know many people who become grandparents in their 40s, but Anakin's son had gotten a girl pregnant and she left him to take care of the baby.

Anakin's son isn't the best parent. He's still a kid himself but he's been working long hours to make enough money to support his child. During the day when he's at work, you come over to take care of the baby.

They don't pay you much but the baby, Eddie, is the sweetest little boy in the entire world. You work nights at the diner, so spending time at Anakin's trailer during the day is no issue at all, especially when you're so close to your own home.

Anakin's hours at the mechanic's shop change all the time. Sometimes he goes in before sunrise and gets home at 3 pm, and other times he hasn't woken up for the day by the time you get there to watch Eddie.

Today is one of the days he got home early. You were folding laundry on the couch when he walked in, sweaty and grimy from the day. He froze in the doorway when he saw you.

"Hi, Mr. Skywalker," you greet with a smile.

"You don't have to call me that," he chuckles as he kicks off his boots by the door. "How's the baby been?"

"Oh, just perfect," you smile. "He's down for a nap right now."

Anakin nods as he walks over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. He watches you continue to fold the laundry and he thinks to himself that you would make a good housewife. You're responsible, pretty, and young enough to handle young kids.

Anakin drys his hands on the towel on the counter, then walks over to where you sit on the couch. You look up at him but you find it hard to maintain eye contact when he's looking at you so intensely. You've always been a bit intimidated by Anakin, but you know it's all in your head. He's a nice guy and you're just a girl with a stupid crush.

"Need any help?" he asks.

"No, it's okay," you smile.

"Are you sure?" he insists.

You look down at the full laundry basket of folded clothes. "Well, you could bring that to the bedroom for me if you want," you say.

With a charming smile, Anakin bends down to pick up the basket and starts off down the hall before turning around, waiting for you to follow him.

Anakin places the basket on the bed and stands back as you begin to place the clothes in his drawers. When you bend down to put some paired socks in the bottom drawer, Anakin looks shamelessly at your ass.

Putting on the charm and playing the nice guy has never been hard for Anakin. What's difficult is keeping his true nature hidden when no one is watching.

He sees how you look at him. You wouldn't babysit Eddie everyday for basically free if something wasn't in it for you. Anakin comes home early from work some days just so he can see your face light up when he walks through the door. You're so cute and innocent; such a sweet girl who has no idea what she's getting herself into.

Licking his lips, Anakin decides he doesn't want to hold off any longer. He steps towards you to place his hands on your hips and he pulls you back against him.

"Anakin!" you gasp, making him chuckle.

"Shh, you'll wake the baby," he says into her ear. "It's alright."

"W-what are you doing?"

The tip of his nose brushes against your ear and you shiver in his arms. "I'm doin' exactly what you want me to do, dollface."

"What-"

"You do all the house work, take care of my baby, greet me when I come home from work. You're pretty much my little housewife already. Why don't we make it official, huh?"

"I don't know what you mean," you say breathlessly.

Anakin's laugh rumbles through his chest. "I'm gonna make you mine, sweetheart. Might even give you a baby of your own."

Anakin's erection pokes your ass and you can't resist from pressing back against it. You have no idea where this is all coming from, but you have been dreaming of this. Anakin coming in and bending you over to claim you for his own, though you never thought it would actually happen.

"You wanna be pregnant with my kid, baby? You'd make such a good mommy. Don't you wanna make me a daddy again?"

Your stomach burns with desire but you know it's wrong. You had no idea he even had interest in you but now he's talking about getting you pregnant? You're brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Eddie crying in the next room. Saved by the bell.

You try to break away from Anakin's hold but he grips your hips tightly.

"But Eddie-"

"Let him cry. This is more important."

#anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #trailer trash!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #star wars #star wars smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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officialaemondtargaryen · 1 month

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From Her Knees

❝either we're smoking, or we're drinking, or we're at each other's throats. ❞

Summary: You're in a toxic relationship with Aegon.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Unnamed Female Character (no Y/N)

Word Count: ~1.5 k

Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old fic for a different character, but it fits Aegon so well that I had to write it for him. I hope that you enjoy it! As always your support through a reblog or comment is appreciated!

Warnings: alcohol use, language, p in v intercourse, oral (m receiving), mentions of previous domestic abuse, they are so bad for each other.

“You don’t do anything, Aegon!”

That was true.

The words she screamed at him usually were. He knew that, of course. That’s why it pissed him off so much. She was always right and she rubbed it in his face every single time. He had been home less than an hour after the shittiest day and she was already gunning for him.

“When am I ever here?” He spat. “I’m never fucking here! And when I am here, I have to listen to you bitch, and moan, and complain, and I’m fucking sick of it!”

That was also true.

He was almost always working; bearing the cross of being his father's son, forced to live a life he despised. It was exhausting, and draining, and all he wanted to do was come home and rest for the few short hours that he had before he had to get up and do it all over again. She’d never let him, though.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? Boo-fucking-hoo, Aegon,” she threw her hands up in the air. “What are you going to do? Leave? You tried that before, remember? It didn’t work.”

She was right again. How many times had they broken up? They had probably been separated more times than they had actually been together. He broke up with her the night before over something equally as futile, and yet, here he was again.

He just couldn’t stay away.

“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch!” He yelled. “You know that?”

Yeah, she knew. She always had been and he always knew it. Yet, he stayed, she stayed. The two couldn’t stay away from each other.

They were moths to a flame.

He threw the door open, marching outside to the balcony, cigarette already lit and beer bottle in his hand. He slammed the door behind him, but she didn’t flinch. She was used to slamming doors, used to him in her face. Their screaming fits turned into fist fights almost every single time.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” she mumbled.

She poured herself a drink, swallowing the warm liquid quickly; it burned the whole way down. His silhouette danced along half-opened blinds as he paced back and forth on the balcony. Through the thin glass of the door she could hear him talking to himself; talking himself through hypothetical arguments while waving his hands in the air as he rehearsed. She didn’t even know why she was mad anymore. That’s how it was most nights. Something so small would trigger one of them, and then one sarcastic remark after the other and they were fighting again. The only time they ever got along was when they were both drunk, high, and fucking like animals on the closest surface available.

He was contemplating leaving again. Contemplating grabbing the keys, getting in the car, and spending the night in the gutter of some bar. This relationship was toxic. It always had been. His family begged him to stay away from her; the ‘narcissistic bitch’ they called her. Told him she was no good for him and that all she did was use him for money and sex. No matter how many times he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t believe him.

She didn’t want or need money. She didn’t want or need the sex. Hell, she barely wanted him. She could do so much better, they both knew it. She was beautiful and smart, and had everything going for her. Why she was sucked into this black hole of a fling, he would never know, and at times that made him feel even worse; knowing that she- in all of her holier-than-thou attitude and narcissistic personality disorder- she was still the prize of the two of them. He was just some cubicle junkie who only amounted to anything because of his last name, not because he cared.

Not because he was good at anything.

He came back inside when he was done smoking his cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. She was sitting at the table waiting for him. That was it, that was all it took; either he left or it was going to be World War III. He knew it by that shrewd look in her eye. The one that said, ‘you say one word to me, and I’m going to hurl this bottle of Jack Daniels at your fucking head’. He pulled the keys from the counter and started making his way back towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” She asked him, standing up from her seat at the table and placing her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes and stopped. He really, really didn’t want to argue with her. He was tired, his muscles were sore, and he was so fed up with her shit. When he turned to face her, he sighed internally. She looked so cute standing there like that. Like at any moment she could just jump on him and claw his eyes out.

He hated crazy, but he loved her crazy.

“Well?” She drew out after not getting an answer the first time.

She was really trying to start something, and Aegon was caught in a cross hair; if he answered her, they fought. If he didn’t answer her, they still fought. If he left, they’d fight when he came back. Either way, there was going to be a fight.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here!” He yelled, knowing that everyone in their apartment complex could hear him. “Away from you and you’re fuckin’ voice that’s like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.”

All he had to do was say ‘I’m leaving’. He didn’t have to add the comment about her voice. But back-handed remarks were his thing, and he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it really mattered.

“Oh my voice is like nails on a chalkboard, huh?” She replied. “You aren’t saying that when you’re asking me to scream for you in bed! And trust me, the only reason I would be screaming is in laughter because your dick is so fucking small!”

She was in his face now, not intimidated at all by the way his eyes darkened. His fists were balled. He had hit her before a few times, and he always felt bad about it. But Gods, she was so annoying.

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” She egged on.

He was seriously thinking about it. Shut her up for the rest of the night. She might even pack her bags and stay with someone else for a few weeks. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Instead he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into him, crashing his lips on to hers. It didn’t take long at all for her to wrap her legs and arms around him.

They wasted no time; Aegon pushed her up against the wall, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled her panties to the side, and spit in his hand to wet the tip of his cock before he pushed himself into her. She gasped, fistfuls of his hair. Her mouth hung open as he pounded into her, slamming her up against the wall with each thrust. Her heavy moaning in his ear only added to the built up frustration that he needed to take out on her. She nibbled at his ear lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he groaned in between thrusts.

Aegon pulled out of her and forced her down to her knees, shoving his wet cock into her mouth. She sucked the taste of herself off of him with pleasure before he pulled himself out and slapped the tip against her cheek, exploding on her face. He stood there for a minute, riding out the climax as she licked the dripping seed from his shaft. Then, she looked up at him from her knees; the sticky white liquid covering her face as she smiled.

This was why he couldn’t stay away.

She stood up, adjusting her clothes, and wiped the semen off of her face with the t-shirt she had pulled off of him. Aegon fixed his pants and plopped down on the couch.

“Grab me another beer, would you?” He asked after a yawn.

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Get your own fucking beer.”

“You’re so ungrateful!” He replied.

“I’m ungrateful?” She started. “I fucking cook your meals, wash your fucking clothes, do your fucking dishes! And what do you do? Nothing!”

She suddenly realized why she was mad at him in the first place.

“Here we go again,” He replied with a groan. “For the last time, I’m never fucking here!”

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