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thanksbutno98 · 8 days ago

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Silk

John Price x female!reader OC

Summary: Being John Price’s friend with benefits ends in an ultimatum.

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing, hurt, alcohol, threats of violence, not edited.

——————

Silk fabric, lace embroideries, and price tags that matched your monthly rent. Stiletto heels, frilly bows, in a dimly lit shop that offered champagne while you tried on clothes. This store was too rich for your blood but you had been talked into going here instead of a much more affordable option.

“Looks beautiful on you.” Lieutenant John Price was smiling softly watching you try on dresses for a work event.

He hummed or shook his head ‘no’ if he didn’t like a dress you tried on. It was actually refreshing to have an honest opinion rather than the typical male perspective of ‘you look good in everything.’ You did notice in your hunt John favored you in the color red but you chalked that up to his mind being stuck on the Liverpool match tonight.

You were currently in a midnight blue dress with a high neckline and long sleeves. The sleeves were sheer and top fitted, both having intricate lace work. The fabric was cinched at your waist while having a loose skirt that came down to just above your knees.

“It’s not too much?” You turned to look at John with a shy smile.

You watched his eyes carefully. Leaning to the side John looked at the mirror behind you to get another look at your ass. He was then shaking his head and wagging his eyebrows at you to show how good he thought you looked. This was the most positive reaction yet, so you knew you had to look as good as you felt.

“You look like one of those figure skaters, only the skirts long and your ass looks better.” John’s compliment didn’t help answer your question. It made you wonder if he had a thing for figure skaters.

“So it’s too much?” Your nose scrunched hoping this thought was wrong because the dress fit you like a glove and you looked amazing in it.

“Not at all. You said it’s a cocktail party, right? I don’t really know what women wear to those but this seems right.” John motioned to your dress. He was giving you bedroom eyes and you were having a sneaking suspicion he would be pulling you into the first secluded spot he could find to go down on you.

“You’re no help.” You grumbled playfully.

Turning back around you admired the smooth silk fabric and how when it caught the light it shimmered. It was perfect because you could wear it to more than just this event. That’s how you were justifying spending this much money on a single item.

“I’ll help you take it off.” There was a growl to John’s voice and you caught him winking at you through the store mirror.

“Down boy.” You giggled and gave him a wink back.

Those blue eyes caught yours again. There was a hunger in them that made your cheeks warm and hair stand on end. Desire looked good on John and you swore you could die happy staring into those eyes.

“You look stunning! What’s the occasion?” One of the store employees came over snapping you out of the deep eye contact you and John had been locked in.

You hated being helped at stores. It was like a nightmare to you to have a stranger weighing in on the clothes you were trying on. It usually ended up with you dressed in something that was completely not your style and then feeling so awkward you would buy it anyway.

“Cocktail party for work.” You told her.

You were now devising a plan on how to retreat as quickly as possible. This was the dress and you didn’t need to be convinced to try on something double in price because these employees worked on commission.

“It’s perfect, elegant and a little sexy. I do have another that might look even better. Before that, does your boyfriend need a suit?” You stiffened at the question.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You blurted out.

“Oh, my apologies.” She looked between you two with a tiny smirk that said she didn’t believe you.

“I love this dress, but thank you for the help. Let me get changed.” You smiled awkwardly.

Before the employee could respond you were retreating into the dressing room. You could hear muffled chatter which must have been John and her. If there was a little more privacy you would ask for help unzipping your dress instead of struggling to do it yourself, like you were now.

“She asked for my number.” John voice was just outside the changing room now. You weren’t sure why John was telling you this. It was infuriating to say the least but you couldn’t be mad about it. John wasn’t your boyfriend even though you wished he was.

“You give it to her?” You cringed at your question, hearing the jealousy in your voice. John chuckled on the other side of the curtain.

“No, like I said before I’m only seeing you. You have a date for the event?” John’s question had you feeling vindictive. If he could so nonchalantly rub in your face a woman was hitting on him you were going to make him just as jealous as you were.

“Why, you planning on being my date? Thought you didn’t do stuff like that.” Your snarkiness wasn’t lost on John but he continued on.

“Don’t want you to have to go alone.” John sounded smug.

That response riled you up. You were having trouble handling his possessiveness when you weren’t even his girlfriend. You knew he was only saying this because he didn’t want you going with Adam. The reason you knew that was because of John’s sarcastic and rude comments about Adam that were made at random. He taunted you at times during sex asking if anyone else could make you feel as good as he did. The answer was no, John usually dragged it out of you by edging you.

Pulling back the curtain forcefully you squared up to him. John stared down at you with a cocky grin and quirked eyebrow. Even when pissed off with him he didn’t find you intimidating, you were too sweet to actually scare him.

“I was going to ask Adam.” You said pointedly and then marched to the cash register.

“Ah, he’s still in the picture. I assumed you dropped him last month when you came over to my flat.” John sounded annoyed but you didn’t care. He grabbed your ass and you saw it as a way to pacify himself that he still had access to you in the ways he wanted.

“Well, I didn’t and you know that because you haven’t stopped making rude comments about him since then. And we work together so it’ll be easy since he’s already going.” You sighed heavily seeing the price of your dress ring up.

Reaching into your purse you pulled out your wallet in order to get your credit card. To your shock John already handed his over. Looking at him with your jaw hanging open you were about to protest that he didn’t need to do that. Before you could, his finger came up and slowly brought your chin up so your mouth clamped shut.

“My treat.” And with a wink John took his card back and handed you the shopping bag.

“You shouldn’t be buying me expensive things.” You had to jog after John because he left as soon as you were handed the bag.

“A thank you should suffice.” John stopped to let you catch up and then swatted your ass and you followed after him.

You took notice to how a few women your age stopped their shopping to gawk at John. It made you incredibly insecure to see the effect he had on women with no effort. It wouldn’t feel like your chest was being crushed if he was your boyfriend. Because then you could walk around with your head held high and a security that he had chosen you and you belonged to each other. But then again, he did look delectable in his fitted brown long sleeve, dark blue jeans, and burnt orange Carhartt jacket; it was hard not to stare.

“Well, thank you. Don’t do it again.” The smile you wore was enough John would absolutely be doing something like this again.

In fact it was why he just decided he’d be taking you out for a nice lunch too.

“Let’s grab something to eat, I’m hungry.” John took your hand and lead you along with him.

You weren’t as confident in London as he was. You tended to get batted around and overcharged because you were an American. John flipped his lid once at what someone charged you for a sandwich so you stopped telling him how much you spent on things. You were from one of the major cities in the U.S. so you thought London would be easy to navigate. But you were sorely mistaken, it was its own beast and you were happy John accompanied you today.

“Uh, all the restaurant are expensive around here. Why don’t we get something-“ You tried to speak because you knew buying that dress was going to leave you strapped for cash. There was no way you could justify spending an inordinate amount of money on one meal so you didn’t want John to do that either.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m footing the bill.” With a chuckle John brought you to an Italian restaurant he had heard great things about.

You cringed at that. Was it that obvious you were broke? Maybe your dingy old flat gave that away or how you avoided expensive things. Finances were hard, you made decent money but you found saving was difficult when you were helping support your dad. He had moved to the UK after you graduated university because he couldn’t stand living in a different country from you. You were incredibly greatful because it meant you weren’t here all by yourself anymore.

The transition was hard on him and finding work was even harder. Your dad didn’t have a college degree and had owned a bar his whole adult life back home, so he didn’t have references really. You actually grew up in the dilapidated apartment above the bar. So when you started making good money you moved him out of his disgusting flat with mice and put him up somewhere a little nicer, but not as nice as you thought he deserved. The goal was to help buy him a pub to run which is what you and him had been pooling your money together for to help that dream of his come true.

You felt out of place in a restaurant so nice that you would never be able to afford. John seemed in his element and you wondered how wealthy he grew up. He knew a restaurant this nice that had to mean he went around trying fancy places. John was charming to the staff and got you seated rather quickly. Wine was poured and a complimentary appetizer came out after you decided on entrees. You were becoming more and more self conscious wondering how many women he had taken to expensive places like this. Little did you know John never did this for anyone but you.

“Why’d you come dress shopping with me?” You asked with your eyes fixed on your plate.

“Didn’t have anything else to do today and I thought I’d be able to sneak into the dressing room with you.” John flirted and nudged your foot under the table. When you mentioned that you needed to go shopping John jumped at the opportunity this morning but you weren’t sure this was why. It honestly seemed like he genuinely wanted to spend more time with you.

“Cheeky.” It was both sexy and endearing John wanted to have his way with you even in public.

You thought he would shy away from PDA but he had no reservation holding your hand or draping his arm around you. Even now, the way he was looking at you told everyone around he only had eyes for you.

“Why do you like being taken out to eat so much? It seems to be your favorite thing.” Tilting his head slightly John’s gaze was focused on you trying to pick you apart.

You felt very seen in this moment and you weren’t sure if you liked it. John wanted to know you better, understand you on a deeper level. His inability to commit to a relationship didn’t match the way he felt about you. In fact he treated you like any man treated their girlfriend, when the two of you were around one another. John craved to know you, every curve, every dislike, the small things you did when you thought no one was watching, what made you light up and the things that made those bright eyes of yours sparkle. He wanted to consume you and make you a fixture in his life.

For all intense and purposes John did see you as his one and only, even though he stood in his own way to make it official. John felt you deserved better than a man like him. He was away too often and the idea of not coming home to you and breaking such a beautiful heart like yours would be a shame. John wouldn’t be able to live with himself at the thought that you would be spending your days mourning a man as rotten as him.

“I, uh. It’s personal I guess.” Shrugging it off you weren’t sure you wanted to get that deep with John.

“C’mon, I’m only curious.” John stared at you softly.

You two were interrupted for a moment as your food was placed in front of you. John’s eyes sparkled at the linguini and clams now sat in front of him. His eyes then shot to your dish and you felt like you could read his mind that he wanted a bite of yours. Nodding toward your plate John took a bite and waved for you to pick up where you left off.

“Um, I grew up without a lot of money. It was really just me and my dad my whole life and he was a shit cook and I’m a shit cook. He couldn’t afford to take me out to eat beside my birthday and he let me pick wherever I wanted to go. . .” You took a breath before sharing the truly vulnerable part.

“So I never experienced good food until my adult life once I got a job. And a lot of those experiences have been by myself because I didn’t have anyone to go with. Well my dad goes with me sometimes but he still gets the cheapest option because he doesn’t like spending money so it still doesn’t feel good.” You couldn’t get yourself to look at John, it felt more intimate sharing this than when you two rolled around in the sheets.

You were taught being poor was something to be embarrassed about. That you had to put on your best clothes and a brave face and act more well off than you were. And you always did, because you didn’t want to humiliate your father and all his efforts to support you.

“Past relationships didn’t take you out to nice places?” John probed.

“Sometimes, really just for my birthday or anniversaries. . . So it never felt like I out grew that poor city girl I grew up as. If that makes any sense.” You mumbled the last part and picked at your food.

“That makes sense. I grew up similarly so I get it.” Taking your hand John squeezed it reassuringly. Looking into his eyes you saw the same shame that riddled you. It was a moment of clarity that came all from a silent understanding that you weren’t the only one who felt this way or went through something similar.

“Yeah?” You asked. That surprised you. You had John pegged for someone who grew up with money. That’s why he lived in a swanky flat with a balcony and took you to places like this and never let you pay for anything.

“Yeah, just in the country side. I’ve got three other siblings so we grew up with holes in our shoes and knew how to make a little go a long way. I really started to try different foods when I was being shipped out to country after country.” John seemed somewhat guarded when he spoke about his family life but it fizzled off by the time he started to speak of food.

“How many siblings? And same, only I was traveling for work.” You knew John wasn’t an only child like you but he never gave more details.

“Yeah, two older brothers and a younger sister. You have any siblings?“ John seemed genuinely curious in getting to know you a little bit deeper and open enough to share about himself.

“Only child. It’s just me and my dad, don’t really have a big family. There’s my mums brother but we don’t get along.” With a shrug you continued to eat.

“Why’s that?” John lightly chuckled at the sour face you made thinking about your uncle.

“He’s not really on board with the whole women’s rights thing. Last we spoke my dad ended up rocking his shit for saying something colorful about me becoming an archeologist.” What you said made John’s eyebrows shoot up and a smile spread across his face. He wasn’t sure why but it felt good that you had a protective father. It meant he didn’t have to worry about you as much as he involuntarily did.

“Your dad seems protective.” By the way John spoke it was a compliment.

“You have no idea. He moved here to be close to me so I wouldn’t be living in a country I didn’t have any family in.” It made you smile to share about your father since you were so close to him.

“Sounds like a good man. He a foodie like you?” The question kept coming and you were finding it easier and easier to share more about yourself.

“No, but he likes good liquor and nice cigars.” Telling John this got another approving nod from him.

“Good man. What about your mum?” That question made you physically react.

You weren’t an open book so John felt he had to be very specific in the questions he asked you. He noticed you willingly talk about your father so he wondered about your mother. Part of him wondered if she left or there was some falling out. It obviously hurt by the way you immediately frowned and looked away.

“She’s dead. I don’t like talking about it.” The way you spoke was nonchalant which peaked John’s interest but he was smart enough to not push.

“I’m sorry about that.” John wanted to squeeze your hand again but you had already moved them into your lap.

“Nothing to be sorry about. People die, she died, cancer, I was little, I’m fine now, my dad’s never really been the same- I feel like I’m rambling.” You were in fact rambling and John could tell you were not fine about it. So to give you some grace he changed the subject.

“Where’s the best food from the places you’ve traveled?” It was the kindest question he asked because he didn’t push on the subject of your mother any further. Taking a sigh of relief your smile returned and you rolled into the next conversation.

“Korea and Japan, hands down. It’s a different level of cooking there. You?” Taking a bite of your food you watched John eye it and then giggled and motioned for his to have more of yours.

“Turkey, some of the best food I’ve ever had.” John was more focused on taking a bite of your food than the conversation. You scooted your plate closer so you could share and he did the same. Neither of you looked for permission anymore and mindlessly ate.

“You’re amazing to take out to eat. You know that right?” John’s compliment made you beam and you wondered if it was only because you were good about sharing your food.

“Yeah?” You asked coyly.

“You’re quick as a whip, funny, and pick the better food every time I take you out.” John pointed at your plate with his fork and went back to eating his food.

“You know we could start picking dishes together and split them.” You suggested.

“See, you’re bloody brilliant.” With a wink John took a sip of his wine and carried on eating.

John was being so charming you wanted to squeal. He made your heart skip a beat. The smile you wore was so wide you knew it would start to hurt soon enough. There was a thrumming in your veins that echoed John’s. You two were smiling at one another in a cheesy love struck way that only those around could see. Somehow you both were blind to the passion dancing in the other’s eyes.

“You know my dream is to vacation in Bologna and get to have the best authentic Italian food.” Biting you lip John seemed to enjoy your small confession.

“Yeah? What about the wine?” John said this as he filled up your glass and then his own.

“The wines only a bonus. I want to gorge myself on pasta and bread. Gain so much weight I’m unrecognizable.” Your joke had John laughing from deep in his belly.

“Sounds like an absolute dream. I’ll get fat with you.” Toasting to that you both softly laughed.

“I don’t think it’s possible for you to gain weight with how much you work out.” You were flirting but John didn’t take the bait.

Normally he flirted back seamlessly but there was a gentleness to him. Reaching across the table John took your hand and played with your ring finger mindlessly.

“Do you want to come with me to the Liverpool match tonight?” His question came out of nowhere.

“I thought you were going with a friend?” You asked, now sitting on the edge of your seat. You wanted to go more than anything. The chemistry between you two was off the charts and it would be a spectacular day for you if this date didn’t end after the meal.

“Don’t have to. You’ve never seen the reds in person and I’d fancy being the one to take you.”

“Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

——————

Tonight was calm and lacked the electricity you felt on your day out with John. It was a casual date. Nothing special, nothing memorable. The wine was decent and the conversation simple. It was meant to be romantic but to you this swanky restaurant wasn’t doing it for you.

“You do anything fun over the weekend?” Adam asked as he poured you a fresh glass of wine.

You were in a daze, mind stuck on John Price instead of your date sitting across from you. When you didn’t answer Adam asked the same question again which got your attention.

“Yeah, went to the Liverpool match with a friend.” You shrugged it off trying to act like it wasn’t the most magical night you’d spent with a man.

“Let me take you to a Chelsea match, they’re the ones you’ve got to support.” It was sweet but it sounded corny for Adam to want you to support his team. It made you wonder why it felt cringy to hear him say it yet when John was excited to have you in red and cheering you were smitten.

“Oh really?” You asked softly and then took a sip of your wine. It made you long for the taste of the sparkling, sweet white you shared with John instead of this flat, boring red.

“I’ve been thinking. We have fun together, good banter, great sex. I’m ready for us to make things official.” Adam smiled at you.

That made your breath hitch. Dread started to fill you. Part of you was hoping that you two would never get to this point. That Adam would break things off or you would find the courage to do it. He was your place holder; all because he was a good match for you. Adam was intelligent, well established in his career, and most importantly, not afraid of commitment. He was the man you should be dating but the spake just wasn’t there for you.

“Really?” It was fake sincerity the dripped off your tongue.

It tasted putrid and left you feeling sick. Being asked to be someone’s girlfriend was suppose to make you excited for the future. But the first thing that came to mind was that you would have to stop seeing John; and no part of you wanted that.

“Yeah, I really like you.” Adam was being so genuine and the way he looked at you spoke volumes.

You felt like a piece of shit.

“I-I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready.” You must have looked like a deer in headlight because before you even spoke Adam demeanor shifted to confusion.

“Seriously?” Confusion and disdain were the first emotions to hit Adam. Then you watched his face twist as if he’d sucked on a lemon.

“I-look, I’m-“ You tried.

“What’s your problem? You went on and on about wanting a relationship and now that’s not what you want? It’s the military prick isn’t it?” Just like at work Adams’s jump to conclusion was spot on. It was kind of annoying how accurate he was. You were also realizing he didn’t take rejection well.

“I don’t have a problem.” That was a lie, something was wrong with you and you needed to figure out what it was.

“No, because I really do like you. And I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re running away but I’m not sticking around to convince you to date me.” Adam got up abruptly threw a few notes down and left.

You couldn’t really blame him for his frustration, you had that coming. In your quest to find commitment and happiness you had done to someone what John was doing to you. Stringing Adam along wasn’t intentional and you really did have good intentions but it didn’t line up with your feelings.

“Fuck.” You placed your face in your hands and sat there quietly.

You knew people were staring at you after Adam’s dramatic display. The feeling of prying eyes only made your skin hotter and embarrassment sting more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m in love with him.” The realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your life was falling apart all because you were in love with John Price. Who were you kidding? You knew halfway through the Liverpool match you loved him. The second he lifted you into the air and then kissed you when they scored their first goal was what did you in. John had you wear his jersey and even swept you in a convenient store for you to get some red lipstick, claiming it was only right. You left a perfect red lipstick print to his cheek as a joke and he kept it there the entire night.

“Ma’am, could I get you anything else?” You waitress was looking at you like you were some fragile thing.

“Do you have vodka?”

——————

“We making a thing of showing up uninvited?” John joked seeing you standing at his front door.

He was very excited to see you because you caught him half way through a wank. You also looked amazing in your sweater dress and heels meanwhile he was shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low.

“You started it.” You mused back and then pointed at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You gave him that seductive smile that riled him up.

“Come in-“ John motioned you in and then started chuckling.

“You smell like you crawled out from a bottle.” He barked out a laugh and grabbed your ass.

You weren’t much of a drinker and John commonly saw you gawking and looking mortified with British drinking culture. So for you to turn up drunk meant something happened and John was praying it was because you broke up with your little boyfriend.

“Might have had a few drinks.” With a shrug you spun around to face John and started to back down his hallway toward the kitchen.

John was now crowding your space and backed you up against the wall just outside his bedroom. With both hands pressed against the wall he caged you in. Lowering his head slight he tilted it and gave you a wicked grin. Taking his finger John hooked it in your tank top and pulled so he could see down your top.

“Be my date to that work event?” You asked softly, waiting for rejection.

“Your little boyfriend doesn’t want to go?” John was getting that smug smirk again. The one where he was feeling like he won, as if you were some prize to be had.

“He was never my boyfriend. I broke things off with him.” You shrugged then left a kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. You hoped that kiss would get the conversation to end but it didn’t.

“Why’s that?” Pulling back John was teasing and you weren’t feeling up for it.

“You said you’re only seeing me. Keep it that way and I’ll only see you.” Staring into his icy eyes you silently pleaded that he hadn’t gone back on what he had told you.

“Alright. I can do that.” John nodded happily.

“Do you actually like me, John. Or am I just a warm body to keep you from feeling lonely.” It took the alcohol for you to finally ask this question that had been weighing on you since this all began.

“I actually like you.” John hardened in a split second at your question. His face became unreadable and posture stiff. You weren’t sure he meant what he said.

“Then, why aren’t I enough?” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Taking a deep breath you felt yourself about to cry.

John’s eyes went wide and he had no idea what to say to you. Emotional conversations weren’t really his thing and he had never seen you upset before. Ducking under his arm you quickly exited his flat and headed straight for the elevator.

“Wait.” John called from his door.

��I’ll see you at the party.” You called over your shoulder not trusting yourself to look back. You couldn’t let John see you cry, it would scare him off.

——————

The crisp night air turned John’s cheeks rosy as he waited for you outside your building. He almost brought flowers but realized you would have to run back up to your flat to put them in water. So he opted to have a mini bottle of wine for you in his car.

“Woah.” John’s eyes were as wide as saucers seeing you walk down your buildings steps.

When he first saw you in that midnight blue dress John didn’t think you could look any more beautiful. But here you were, with your hair tied back in an elegant loose bun that was braided on either side. You were a stark contrast of beauty against the backdrop of your old rundown apartment building.

The pale light of the moonlight made your skin glow almost like you were radiant. John’s breath hitched in his throat and his heartbeat began to pick up pace. You looked beautiful, divine, breathtaking. There was no doubt in John’s mind you were the most captivating woman he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Look at you.” You then whistled seeing John stand there in a navy suit.

You knew John was handsome but this was your first time seeing him in a suit. It fit him perfectly and he paired it with a rust colored tie, matching pocket square, brown shoes, a gold watch and cufflinks. Part of you wondered if he was this stylish on his own or if someone helped him pick this out. Someone had to have helped him because the ensemble had a woman’s touch to it.

“Your sister pick that out for you?” You joked and motioned to his impeccable suit. Straightening his tie your smile never faded and you felt smitten having the man you had fallen in love with as your date tonight.

The answer to your question was, yes. John showed up at his younger sister’s house and practically forced her out the door to help him pick out a suit since he didn’t have a nice one. It cost him more money than he liked, a pricey lunch, and an onslaught of invasive questions; but it was all worth it to impress you.

“You’re beautiful.” John barely got the words out before he was kissing you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting him to plant one on you. Your eyes fluttered shut when you realized he wasn’t going to pull away. Kissing John back you felt one large hand on the small of your back pulling you close while the other cupped the back of your neck. The way his lips moved against yours was slow and tender, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted. The normal heat and desire was absent. You felt wanted, cherished, like you were his world in this tender moment.

Pulling away slowly John stared deeply in your eyes. It was emotion you saw, one of adoration that you’d seen when an artists gazed at the sistine chapel for the first time. You felt more than beautiful, like you were a work of art to behold and John was the one to see the beauty of you in every stroke, every line, for all you were.

“Divine, doesn’t begin to describe how breath taking you are.” John whispered before bringing you close to his chest and hugging you.

Nothing compared to the feeling of being held by John Price. Melting in to his hold you breathed in his scent of oaky cologne and spearmint. John always smelled good, even when he didn’t. There was this natural manly scent about him that made your knees weak. You hummed and mumbled about him smelling good and he reciprocated the compliment.

“Yeah, I look that good?” Blood rushed to your face and you felt the flush of insecurity light up your skin.

This wasn’t a normal compliment where John was trying to get you in bed. You could see in the way he looked at you and his tone that this was different. The goal wasn’t sex. It was - you had no idea what this was; and that’s what made you so insecure.

“The way you look is just a bonus.” John’s words made your hair stand on end.

John wasn’t just talking about your appearance, he meant you as a person was what got this reaction from him. It made your heart swell to hear him use your own words you said in passing once on what you found attractive. That looks were always a bonus to you and to know John felt that way about you could make you melt into the earth.

“Really trying to get lucky tonight.” You tried humor to keep your racing heart from leaping out of your throat.

Maybe having him tell you, you were hot or sexy would quell the butterflies in your stomach. Because being desired by John physically was what you had become accustom to. Anything else was new and foreign and solidified you had fallen in love with him.

“Lucky to be your date tonight. That’s all I want.” Laying a soft kiss to your cheek John whispered in your ear.

It was confusing to hear that but you weren’t going to dwell on it. You wanted to enjoy John’s company tonight. Shooing all the insecurities creeping into your mind away you took John’s hand and nodded at him as if he knew what you were thinking. With compliment after compliment rolling from his tongue John took you to your work event.

There was electricity in the air walking in to the posh hotel bar that was rented out for your work event. There was something exhilarating about being on John’s arm and feeling like a couple although you weren’t. It was a taste of what life could be and you found it addictive.

John was amazing, made small talk with your colleagues, even had your boss Sampson in stitches. Sampson and John remembered one another from the dig you met John on and your boss admitted he had a feeling something was going on.

During the conversation John was having with your boss, Adam approached you and asked to have a word. It felt rude to say no so you walked off with him and pretended everything was fine. No one knew about you and Adam seeing each other as you were both private people. John continued to chat with some of your colleagues but was watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Turn me down and bring that prick? You’re fucking joking?” Adam didn’t snap but sounded hurt and confused.

When he asked you the other night if it was the military guy that was holding you back he said it to be cruel. No part of him actually thought that was what was going on. Adam actually thought you stopped seeing him a while ago when you told him not to worry about John, so he felt hurt and betrayed that John was still in your life.

“Adam, I’m sorry. But don’t you want someone who wants you?” You asked and then cringed at how horrible you sounded.

“I didn’t mean that, that came out wrong-“ You tried to add quickly but you watched Adam flare up like a firecracker.

“That’s rich coming from you. You really think that asshole wants you? You’re nothing but something to kill time with until he’s ready to move on to the next. And you really want to waist your time with him than be with me? It’s fucking ludicrous, Indy.” Adam wasn’t yelling or causing a scene and close enough to keep things quiet. The look on his face spoke volumes to those around because Adam wasn’t one for anger and he looked pissed off with you.

Glancing around you continued to smile like nothing was happening. It was taking a moment for your brain to catch up with your mouth. Because what Adam said was what you had been thinking for months now. That John didn’t actually want you and he was killing time. You were his makeshift girlfriend that he never had to commit to and could turn tail and run when it best suited him.

“Oi, don’t know what’s going on but get out of her face.” John was by your side now and took Adam by the shoulder and moved him back a step.

It could be misconstrued as playful to those around but you and Adam both knew it wasn’t. Intimidation was something John excelled at and you watched Adam square his shoulder clearly not willing to back down. You had a friend say there was no better feeling than two men fighting over her but you couldn’t disagree more with that sentiment. You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you, this was so mortifying.

“I have half a mind to-“

“To what? We can step outside if that’s where this is going.” The timber is John’s voice was like coarse black smoke.

You were against physical violence and knew Adam found it as barbaric as you did. Looking up at John you were about to tell him to stop but Adam spoke first.

“Of course she fancies you, she spends her days studying knuckle dragging Neanderthal’s just like you.” Adam spat the words out.

That seemed to shut John up. John wasn’t insecure about his intelligence normally, but being around people as smart as you and your colleagues did leave him feeling out of his depths. Adam wished you a job well done on your latest find, referring to John, called him a Neanderthal one more time and headed toward the bar. You had to step on John’s foot and tug him by the arm before he dragged Adam out by his hair. You realized John wasn’t a fan of being called unintelligent and would only prove that point by trying to fight Adam. John stopped immediately at your touch and looked to you with an expression you had never seen before.

“You okay?” Somehow he was fuming mad but still had the wherewithal to check on you.

“Yeah, he’s upset and I don’t blame him. I’ve been really shitty.” After you spoke you quickly went after Adam and grabbed him lightly.

You left John there, feeling like a fool. He wanted to grab you and ask what that prick meant to you and why you would chase after him. Somehow this felt like betrayal to John and in a split second he swallowed down that feeling realizing it was self inflicted. John knew deep down you would devote yourself to him fully if he allowed, that this pain in his chest was his own fault.

“What?” Adam turned at your familiar touch of his bicep and was not amused with you chasing after him.

“You’re right. You deserved better and it was shitty of me to lead you on when I didn’t know what I wanted. I should’ve sorted my self out instead of dragging you along with me. I’m sorry.” You said earnestly, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in a fit of tears. You felt disgusted with yourself for doing what John was doing to you. Adam didn’t deserve that and you had selfishly hurt him the way you were hurting. You were better than this, too emotionally aware to not see the damage you had done.

Adam blinked at you. There seemed to be a shift, not one of forgiveness but mutual understanding. With the softest of smiles he nodded to you and then squeezed your shoulder.

“Thanks. I meant what I said. Indy, I care for you and as one friend to another, he’s only going to hurt you.” It was starting to become apparent to you that the men in your life that you had romantic relationships with looked at you with pity.

It was leaving a sour taste in your mouth and you hated that this was your reality. Life shouldn’t be leaving you feeling so dirty. Your love life shouldn’t be the shit show that you allowed it to become. It was you, you were the common denominator; the problem.

“I know. . . I know.” In almost a whisper you admitted what had been weighing on your heart for so long to a man that deserved so much better than you.

“Enjoy yourself, okay. We can still be friends. And. . . You look beautiful by the way.” Even in a moment you had treated him so poorly, Adam had the decency to treat you with kindness. Part of you knew he was still hoping for a chance with you.

“Thanks. . . Friends.” You smiled meekly and watched Adam walk off. Standing there you let yourself feel the disappointment that had morphed into acceptance. You had done the right thing, apologized and taken accountability for your poor behavior. And that’s that most you could do in the aftermath of your selfishness.

“What was that about?” John was now by your side and looking smug to hide his annoyance. To him even without throwing a punch he won, because you were standing by him not Adam.

You were starting to hate when he looked at other men that way. There was nothing for him to be smug about. You weren’t his girlfriend, he’d won nothing. Just like him, all you got was some mind blowing sex and a good time when it was convenient. If he asked you what you were thinking in this moment you would tell him you were both losers who were shit at relationships and should swear off dating until you got your shit together.

“I strung him along. I owed him an apology for that.” It was a pointed comment meant to needle at John.

“Did you?” John scoffed.

“Yeah, I did.” You said coldly.

——————

“Morning.” John stood in his living room doorway shirtless and in grey sweatpants that hung low enough you could see he hadn’t put on boxers. He wore that sleepy smile you would dream about on lonely nights.

It was a cloudy dreary day that left the bright sun to cast a grey shadow. The room was lighter but in a depressingly gloomy kind of way. The grey British morning made John’s flat look even more depressing since the walls were white and the furniture black and brown. There was no real pop of color that always left his flat looking like a hotel rather than a home.

“John?” You asked. You were sitting on his couch, fully clothed and looking distressed.

After your work event you and John came back to his place. You seemed off to him and a lot colder than normal. He didn’t know if he should ask if you were okay and by the time he had built up the courage to you were climbing him like a tree the second you walked into his flat. There was a desperation in the way you two fucked. You clung to him, held on tighter than ever, kissed him deeper than normal, and were more into it than John was accustom to, almost like you felt him slipping through your fingers.

“You not sleep well?” John asked while tilting his head at your curiously.

“I can’t keep doing this. I need you to step up or let me go. I’m putting my life on hold for you and, and, and I just, I just need to know if you feel what I’m feeling when we’re together.” The truth came bursting out of you and once you said it you realized the admission wasn’t making this weight on your chest go away; somehow it became worse.

You were hopeful John would tell you he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him. That he had been a fool to keep you strung along this long and that he was sorry to do that to you. Then he would wrap you in his arms and ask you to be his.

But that didn’t happen. In fact, pity formed on John’s face and his gorgeous blue eyes that you’d fallen in love with showed you he was sorry for you. You bit the inside of your cheek feeling in your bones what was to come next. This was the part where he sweet talked you and convinced you to lower your standards and accept the bare minimum from him.

“Darling-“ There was that charming smile as bright as the sun, that won you over so easily, but for once it angered you to see John like that.

“No, no, please don’t do that thing where you’re all charming and hook me back on and I give you even more of my time. Either say you want me to be your girlfriend or let me go.” The intention was to be assertive but all you could hear in your voice was a pathetic, desperate girl begging a man to love her.

And that broke your heart in and of itself. You never saw yourself as desperate or needing a man, especially needing one enough to help you love yourself. Independence was your armor and you weren’t sure where you went wrong or when you started to lean on John for love and affection; if you could even call what he gave you that. No relationship, even the years long ones left you feeling as worthless and broken down as this casual fling with John had.

It was as if you could see the rest of your life in his blue eyes. You knew in your very core he could make you so very happy and you could do the same for him. But he just wouldn’t let you. It all hurt so much and you felt shame for being needy but you knew what you would be losing. You loved John, you fell in love with him at the Liverpool match he took you too and you wanted to cling on to that version of him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not going to work between us if you want more than what we have going.” There was a callousness that John spoke with.

The ultimatum seemed to make him harden. All the emotion he had for you the previous night was gone. That soft look in his eyes when he saw you walk down the steps of your building turned cold. It felt like he stopped seeing you as someone he was fond of and only saw a stranger. Like he would look right through you if you passed one another on the street.

“Okay. Okay-“

“You don’t have to go.” There was a hint of emotion in John’s voice, an ounce of pleading not to leave him alone yet it was wrapped up in disdain. You wondered if he felt even a fraction of the hurt you were or maybe he did feel what you were feeling; only he was much better at masking it.

“John, I can’t. I can’t keep living my life like this- it means I’m getting it wrong. That I’m doing, this whole living my life thing all wrong- and I’m to proud live like this. Off scraps from a man who could give me so much more.” Pain was riddled in the words you spoke and for once it felt like you were breaking your own heart.

Admitting this to the man you wanted more than anything felt gross, like a new level of intimacy he didn’t deserve and you weren’t ready to share. John only stared at you, brows furrowed and lips pressed firmly in a line. There was something in his blue eyes you couldn’t decipher and you had no desire to; not anymore.

“Let me grab my things and please just- let me leave quietly.” Somehow you kept your voice even and calm although it felt like your heart had just been ripped out.

John did as you said. He sat in his living room listening to you shuffle around his room packing a bag of your things. When he heard you move to the bathroom to grab your toiletries he really knew it was over. There would be no talking his way out of this or winning you back unless he gave in to your demands. It wasn’t fully sinking in to John what life meant without you around. He was convincing himself he would be alright and bounce back quickly; although that was far from the reality.

Stopping at the front door you looked around John’s flat trying to memorize it because this was the last time you would see it. You and John shared a look and you weren’t sure why but you felt angry. It felt better to be angry than as hurt as you were. There was no sadness but a resentment that bubbled up and hot tears began to fill your eyes. Stepping out of John’s flat for the last time you slammed the door behind you and finally let the tears flow.

It was humiliating to cry your eyes out on the bus on your way home. Passerby’s looked at you with that same pity you saw in John’s blue eyes and you promised yourself to never settle for a man who left you feeling so pathetic. Because you deserved better and you promised yourself you would never settle for a man who couldn’t commit to you, ever again.

You showered when you got home to get the smell of John off your skin and then went for a run. This was the heartbreak you needed - that’s what you told yourself. Now it was time for you to get your life back on track and it started today. While you deep cleaned your apartment, got ahead on work, and went grocery shopping to stock your home with healthy food, John fell apart. You didn’t know it but he spent that day drinking himself sick and smoking way too much on his balcony. As you threw all his stuff in a bag and washed your sheets, John slept with the pillow you once used hugged to his chest, missing the silk fabric that once covered it. John clung to the smell you left behind while you ridded yourself of him. Neither of you truly being able to out run the heartache left behind, no matter how hard you tried or how much time passed.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarrickss @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie @aliceinwonderland-5678 @blue096 @rip-cod-brainrot @saturnghost93 @somehopeatlast @thepowers-kat-be @tenko-nii @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @thraxpatty @mnsnp @faeriedust17 @livstablers @luvr4miya @phoenixhalliwell @maissalov3u @ellerdod @tizzywoowoo @himboelover @yehsehneeah @r0vena @orangeblossom-24

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wisteria-lodge · 9 months ago

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JK Rowling & the Color Pink

So I'm working on a thing about queer coding in the Harry Potter books... and first I needed to do a sidebar on how the color pink is used. I’ve made a list of every time a character either wears pink, or is heavily associated with a pink object. We actually get some pretty clear categories that are unintentionally very revealing, and say a lot about how JKR sees "girly" femininity.

Let’s start off with the obvious:

PINK = VILLAIN (FEMME)

Petunia Dursley: “salmon-pink cocktail dress," "neat salmon-colored coat." Also paints her walls "a sickly peach color."

Gilderoy Lockhart: “lurid pink robes to match the decorations”

Pansy Parkinson: “very frilly robes of pale pink”

Rita Skeeter: “long nails were painted shocking pink”

Aunt Muriel: “feathery pink hat gave her the look of a bad-tempered flamingo.”

(Aunt Muriel only shows up briefly at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but then proceeds to insult pretty much every other character, and give Harry an existential crisis by spilling the tea on Dumbledore)

Dolores Umbridge: “a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan.”

(Also: has pink stationary, and her pamphlet MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society has a pink cover)

Cho Chang

(Okay. Not a villain per se, BUT. Cho is the reason the mole gets into the DA in the books (and just is the mole in the films.) And given that she is a sort of Umbridge-aligned sub villain in book 5, at least structurally... it IS interesting that the place she brings Harry for a date has this very pink, Umbridge-coded description.

It was a cramped, steamy little place where everything seemed to have been decorated with frills or bows. Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Umbridge’s office. “Cute, isn’t it?” said Cho happily. “Er . . . yeah,” said Harry untruthfully. “Look, she’s decorated it for Valentine’s Day!” said Cho, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.

Fleur Delacour: “[her wand] emitted a number of pink and gold sparks.”

(Also not quite a villain, and I adore Fleur BUT… she’s written hyper-femme in an intimidating, borderline threatening way. She’s very opinionated, bordering on rude. She’s “full of herself” as Ginny puts it. And when she gets engaged to Bill and becomes an unambiguously good guy, she has this interesting moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

“. . . Bill and I ’ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold — pink would of course be ’orrible with Ginny’s ’air —”

Hermione Granger: “Wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown”

(Hermione wears pink exactly one time, and it is at her most villainous… during Book 1, when she tries to stop Harry and Ron leaving in the middle of the night to go duel Malfoy.)

A voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Harry.” A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. “You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed!” “I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy — he’s a prefect, he’d put a stop to this.” Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering.

(She literally does the sitting-in-the-dark, villain-lamp thing. Also, in case you were wondering, yes Hermione DOES get a moment of ~Pink Rejection~)

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

Which brings us too:

PINK = SILLY/FRIVOLOUS (FEMME)

Sybill Trelawney: “after you’ve broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I’m rather attached to the pink.”

(She’s a fraud. Also hides empty bottles of sherry in the room of requirement. (I’m going to have to be uncharitable in this section, so am sorry.)

Parvati Patil: “robes of shocking pink"

(Often described as “giggling,” thinks Professor Trelawney is amazing, the real deal.)

The Fat Lady: “a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.”

(Often described as giggling. Drinks too much during the holidays. JRK is unfortunately well known for being fatphobic. Also the Fat Lady has a friend named Violet, and Parvati has a friend named Lavender. Not really going anywhere with that, just funny that they’re both shades of purple.)

Hepzibah Smith: “an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes.”

(So… almost identical description to the Fat Lady. And I think we should maybe talk about her more, maybe? Because the way she’s framed… I think she might be Tom Riddle’s sugar mamma?)

“I brought you flowers,” he said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere. “You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. “You do spoil this old lady, Tom. . . .”

(Or maybe we… shouldn’t talk about that. Either way, Tom Riddle does kill her, steal her stuff, and frame her house elf so thats… not great.)

PINK = EMBARRASSING

“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout. There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy.

(Pink fluffy earmuffs are adorable.)

“Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!” Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag.

(The next two example are 'pranks' as well, I think the pink-colored soap is there to add a kind of insult to injury.)

Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers.

(This is a bit from Fred and George’s farewell firework show, it's funny that they’re specifically pink fireworks that Umbridge can’t get rid of.)

“Headless Hats!” shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. “Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!” Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

(also just, pumping up an embarrassing moment)

PINK = OUTSIDER, WEIRDO

Hagrid

Hagrid’s flowered pink umbrella, which contains his broken wand, is brought up a lot. In this case I think we’re meant to see it as a joke. Hagrid’s so big, and so masc, but the pink umbrella makes him non-threatening. However… the pink umbrella, it’s not a totally positive thing, is it? It doesn’t match, it isn’t *him.* Hagrid wouldn't have chosen to carry this around, totally on his own, if he'd had any other choice. It sets him apart, both visually and socially (because it's a constant reminder that he doesn't have a wand.)

Dobby

Dobby, once he is freed, gets pink-and-orange striped socks, and they’re meant to communicate that he’s… kind of a lot. “Yeh get weirdos in every breed,” as Hagrid puts it. JKR has a very strange, honestly antagonistic relationship with Dobby. He’s the victim of book 2, but structurally kind of the villain? He describes the house-elves situation as “enslavement,” but Hermione’s treated as overdramatic for calling house-elves slaves two books later. And then everything is ret-conned and Dobby is… just kind of weird for liking freedom (and socks) as much as he does.

Tonks

Book!Tonks defaults to “bubblegum-pink” hair. Her hair is described as pink a lot. (Movie!Tonks defaults to purple hair, because they were worried that pink would visually align her with Umbridge.) And this is the oddest one on the list to me, because Tonks is such a universally beloved, fan favorite character. But I really do think that *as written*... we’re supposed to put her in a category with Dobby. The two of them leave (unintentional) destruction in their wake. They’re loud, they’re a lot, they take up too much space. Harry thinks they’re both kind of annoying. (and yeah, Harry 100% thinks Tonks is “a little annoying at times.”)

#jkr critical #anti jkr #hp #gender stuff #fashion history #nymphadora tonks #dobby #hepzibah smith #hermione granger #pink!#literary analysis #hp close reading

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dollivication · 7 months ago

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oh dollyyyy

How do u think the dmc + leon (or js one, or an additional carlos if you're feeling spicy) would behave if their darling was hyperfeminine

bc i just KNOW Dante would be feral if ur makeup was almost always done, wearing pretty clean clothes and having a bow in ur hair more often than not

cwacked my knuckles 4 this 1 this specific ask made my pupils dilate sow…. MWAH thnak yew for asking this teehee :3 part 1!!!

nsfw for dante and slight nsfw 4 nero…. gulp….

DANTE SPARDA!

.he would be ALL for a hyperfeminine darling. encourages it even! he’d probably even ask trish to take you out shopping so you can come back looking flashier than ever >:3 whatever makes his baby happy!

.and you’re so right about that!!! he’s aware that you don’t really do it for him, but the monkey brain inside his head tends to tell him that it is. you just look so pretty with your makeup all done, surely you had him in mind while adjusting into your cute little outfits?

.he’s SUPER touchy, so if you really care about your clean appearance, stay away from dante. he WILL start to play with any ribbons he sees, be it on your hair or clothing—often causing them to undo and god knows that this idiot has no fucking clue how to re-tie them. rushes off before you can even say a word to him. ugh..

.and he just can’t help being dirty to you when you look like a living doll! :( yucky thoughts FUEL him. he’ll see a pattern in your clothing; cutesy, pastel, pink… and he will immediately think about if your panties are matching the whole thing you’ve got going on outside.

.he’ll try sneaking his hands under the dresses and skirts you wear, try and flip the fabric up to confirm his suspicions. even if you’re whining loudly about how gross he’s being, all that he can think about are your adorable frilly panties!!! i fear he would try to fuck you in whatever you’re wearing… (＞人＜;)

VERGIL SPARDA!

.i don’t think he would care much! it’s not his business how you choose to dress, and if that’s how you express yourself, who is he to judge? plus, you look damn well good while doing it, he’s not gonna stop you even if the whole thing is a bit foreign to him.

.vergil hasn’t really seen anyone dress like you do, but it’s a very pleasant change of pace for him. a darling who doesn’t conform to the typical lower-toned fashion? he can get behind that! especially because it brings his beloved dove joy.

.once in a blue moon, he’ll tell you that he likes the outfit you picked out that day. it reminds him of a tulip. and of course, if you’re experiencing any trouble in picking something out or struggling to get dressed up, vergil is at your side in the blink of an eye, ready to help you with whatever it is you need.

.need a ribbon tied? he’ll do his best for you. need something zipped up? he’s your guy!! don’t know if you should pick the long sleeve or the short sleeve? well, both look good on you, but it’s out hot and the short sleeve is definitely a favorite—and you can wear the former another day.

.i do think that he’d be far more gentle with a hyperfeminine darling than a darling who isn’t. theres a certain tranquility from seeing you so content and unashamed while donning the prettiest little dress, he would probably handle you carefully—to ruin your outfits would be to ruin your glee, and that is the last thing vergil wants. so he treats you and your belongings like fine china <3

NERO SPARDA!

.MESMERIZED!!! nero thinks you look like a literal fucking angel. he’s practically a puppy, eager to see how you’ll look the next day. and even if your closet is limited in options? that doesn’t matter! he’s still going to dote on you, kissing your forehead to be mindful of your makeup while rambling about how cute you are!!! each morning is a welcomed surprise :3

.it’s funny because he’ll be showing you off, but gets pissy when other people actually look at you. especially men!! he can understand a woman or kid staring, because you’re literally a sweet dream walking, but other guys??? na. but then nero looks at you again and realizes this fine babe is dating him, not them! it feeds his pride lols keep doing what you’re doing!!

.whenever he can, he’ll buy you a little plush that fits your style! anything remotely light pink or white automatically makes him think of you. its a bit of a problem… but hey, at least he’s got you and your tastes on the mind 24/7 !!!

.if you ever try to give him oral while wearing your outfits, he’s quick to refuse no matter how much you insist that it’s fine. he knows how much your clothes can cost, and how much you put hard work into your appearance that he doesn’t wanna fuck it up! lest he cums and stains the fabric on accident :(

.if by any chance, you do manage to convince him, and his worst fears do happen—nero will spend just about ALL of his savings to spoil you because he feels guilty LMFAO.. he’ll definitely give you a solid few bucks to go crazy the next time you guys go shopping, muttering about how he wanted to make things up to you. but it’s not all that bad, because now you can show off with more cute clothes and fluster him!! >.<

V SPARDA!

.he’s curious about your taste in fashion! not in a judgy way, no, but he’s actually intrigued by you! very fascinated at how you can capture an almost innocent side of being feminine using a certain arrangement of mere accessories and clothing. you’re always pleasant to look at, so don’t be surprised if you catch him stealing a few glances your way teehee!! all in all, he earnestly respects the grind and isn’t afraid to express it.

.the whole dynamic between you guys is just so comical.. especially because you two are polar opposites in the way you present yourselves. i do think that after V took his current clothes from that one thug, he developed a little taste in gothic-esque fashion, so you both will be getting a few stares in public together!

.hes,, unemployed,, i fear… so he cannot buy anything for you as he would have liked to—but i do think he would maybe ask griffon to fetch (steal) him a few strands of ribbon for you, and that goes for jewelry! pearl necklaces, lace chokers… just about everything else that you express interest in. he’ll probably keep doing it even if you tell him he doesn’t need to.

.you are NOT safe from hardcore compliments. v straight up glazes you in a way that like.. makes you feel vulnerable? he describes you in such a heartfelt manner using his poetry, all while basking in the sight of you. truly, you remind him of a lamb. carefree and joyful, and a symbol of purity. it’s very strange but in a nice way…

.does not take kindly to rude remarks directed at you! the way he sees it, all you’re doing is living a life that’s comfortable for you, and it’s not hurting anyone! he really doesn’t get why some people feel the need to look at you like you’re some kind of freak-show. if he sees that the harsh opinions of others visibly dampens your mood or get insecure, he’ll be quick to assure you that your fashion is nothing to be ashamed of—because it really isn’t. you’re a piece of art, not only to him, but all around.

#dante sparda x reader #vergil sparda x reader #nero sparda x reader #v sparda x reader #dante x you #vergil x you #nero x reader #v sparda x you #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc v #devil may cry #dolly thinks

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minnies-puppydoll · 6 months ago

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Could you maybe do one of seungmin getting mad at you in public for wearing revealing clothes, ty!

Seungmin Drabble #1

*~Disobeying Dom Seungmin~*

pairing: hard dom!seungmin x sub!reader

warnings: MEANIE PANTS SEUNG! no smut but very suggestive, lots of degredation, reader is called a bitch, i think thats it.

note: personally…i could never disobey him but thats just me🐶 good luck with that tho!

heres ur order!! smut under the cut!!!!!!!!!!!

it was going to be a perfect night. your boyfriend seungmin finally got reservations for that fancy, expensive diner you’ve been dying to go to.

the only problem was..you were running a little late.

you took a nice, long shower beforehand, using all the scents you know he loves on you. laying out three different dresses on your bed, you quickly tried to decide which one would be the best fit for tonight’s important date.

one was grey, and wrapped your body elegantly with silk fabric. the second was light pink, with a high cut waist and a frilly bottom, seungmin loves that one. and the third…oh.

seungmin hates this dress. he specifically told you not to wear it in public anymore. its was a black, hollow out dress with sheer fabric and strings where there wasn’t your boobs or your ass showing. nothing different than a stripper dress.

now, you know seungmin better than anyone. and when he says he hates that dress, its not because its ugly in any way, shape, or form. no. the way you look in that dress could make even him fall to his knees for you.

it’s because of the attention it brings to HIS precious girl. seungmin isn’t an insecure man either, he obviously wants to show you off on his arm when you get all dolled up for him, but with THAT dress? you couldn’t even get a few feet away from him without being approached or even made a pass at.

he knows you would never leave him for another guy, he just can’t stand people sizing up his pretty little prey like wild beasts. so, you aren’t allowed to wear it per his rules, fine. but honestly, you’ve always wondered what would happen if you disobeyed him.

so..maybe you wore the dress anyway..how bad could this go, right? now the problem was, how to get there.

normally he would pick you up in his car, but you know for a fact he would make you change immediately. so that was out. maybe you could just text him?

minnieeee?

hi, sweet baby🩷 you ready to be picked up?

uhhh

hm?

actually min, can i drive myself and meet you there? i have a suprise for you.

uh oh.

WDYM UH OH

that can’t be good. you’re scaring me💀

ITS JUST A SUPRISE OKAY

…its the dress isn’t it?

..no actually! its a secret so you’ll know when i get there so i actually have to go now and walk my fish see you soon love you bye-

we’ll see.

your nerves are alight as you pull into the parking lot, biting your lip in fear and arousal at how seungmin will deal with you. you’ve never disobeyed him before, always wanting to recieve his sparing praise and not cause a fuss.

your heels click against the floor as you step into the new diner, looking like the most expensive thing there. the confidence you’re radiating is only surface level though, the truth is, if you had a tail right now it would be tightly tucked between your legs.

when the host tells you where seungmin is sitting, you hesitantly make your way over. he is indeed there, he smiles at you sweetly before looking down at that dress. that stupid fucking dress.

he looks back up into your eyes with a dissapointed, mean glare in his. if you were at home, that look would have you begging for forgiveness. you immediately look down, shying away from his gaze as you put your purse down and bow slightly at him.

“hey, seungmin..”

“sit down.”

the demand has you plopping down in your seat without hesitation. his tone is clear and calm, but equally cold.

“i thought i told you not to wear that dress. hm? or are you just too dumb and slutty to remember my rules?

oh. his harsh words make your thighs rub together, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“m’sorry..”

“sorry what.”

“so..so sorry, sir.”

“look at you. i do all these nice things for you, give you all my attention and look where it gets me. is my attention not enough? need it from the other manwhores here? i think you’re just too much of a slut to be thankful.”

his words have bite, making you equally feel bad for disobeying and almost drool from the degradation.

“yes sir, im a slut, sir.”

“i know you are.”

“just..wanted to see what you’d do..”

“want a punishment? is that what the dumb whore wants? hm?”

“um..depends what it is?”

“you don’t get to choose, stupid.”

“…well, what are you gonna do then?”

seungmin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and looking at you with an amused expression. only this time do you meet his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly. seungmin scoffs.

“don’t fucking look at me.”

your eyes shoot down, just listening to him obediently. he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“..when we get home, im ripping that slutty stripper dress off of you for good this time. then, im gonna muzzle you and make you beg for me to pound that slutty pussy like a good bitch. then lastly..you’re writing lines, sweetheart.”

sorry for ending it there..u just look so cute when ur teased<3 order again soon!🐶

#skz smut #18+ mdni #skz x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #customer ask!

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doki-doki-imagines · 1 year ago

Note

I want to make a request ^_^

I have a suggestion where the men come home and the air smells so good! They hear their s/o in the kitchen and they find her cooking… with nothing but an apron on. Can you write how Bi Han, Johnny, Kenshi, Raiden and Liu Kang please?

Bi-Han: -He doesn't even notice you at first, walking to his room to wear something more comfortable. -Then, while Bi-Han walks, he suddenly stops. A cartoon-ish sparks appears and eyes get wide. Are you- -He steps back and finally notices your body, your back…naked. -"Oh, you finally noticed Bi-Han!" You turn around, wooden spoon in your hand and a wide smile adorning your face. -Your front is covered by a frilly apron. Something is written on it, but Bi-Han simply doesn't care. He prefered the back. -"So you have nothing to say? Don't I look good?" You sing sang, twirling the wooden spoon near Bi-Han's face. -"I have a better way to use that spoon." He thinks, imagining your ass already red. -"O-Oh. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be bad." You break eye contact looking down, suddenly shy. -Damn, he must have said that out loud. -Well, Bi-Han would be really stupid to let this occasion slip. "And I'm not" this time, he just thinks, big cold hands already on your waist, lips on yours.

Johnny Cage: -Another one that doesn't see you at first, and then realisation hit him the second he is changing in his room. -Runs to you and bask in the sight. -Fuck, Johnny knows you have a cute ass, but that bow at the top really makes it look like a gift wrapped for him. -He'd like not to say anything, just looking at you while you work in his kitchen, but the desire got him into a chokehold. -"Heyyy" Voice deep and hands sliding down your back. "Hey! Wanna taste?" You say cheerfully, wooden spoon near his lips. -Johnny's eyes widened in surprise but nodded at your proposal, eyes closing to taste fully your scrumptious cooking. -But his lips don't find food, but your lips. Tongue already prodding to open him up. -Things escalate pathetically quick. Don't worry about burning the food! You won't reach the bedroom so you'll notice if something is wrong. -Not that you will be in the right mind to care about it.

Kenshi Takahashi: -When he comes back from work, his nose leads him to the kitchen, sniffing the aroma of delicious food. -"What is my sweet cook making?" He says, mouth near your ear while his hands massage your…bare shoulders? -"Mh? Are you wearing a top?" "No dear. Just an apron. Can you feel it?" You turn around and grasp his wrist, moving his hand directly on your chest. -Kenshi sucks in air before blood starts to flow way too fast to be physiological in his blood vessels. -The apron is all lace, he recognizes the texture, and it must be thin since he can touch your erect nipple underneath. -"Cat got your tongue?" "No, my mouth is watering, I know the sight in front of me is delicious." Kenshi gasps out. -You kiss him, and soon he pulls you down on the floor, but not before groping around to close the handles of the kitchen stove. -You need no distraction.

Raiden: -He walks straight into the kitchen after work, ready to prepare the meal for both of you or help you out. -But Raiden gets zapped at the sight! Your sugar paper colored apron, full of ribbons, catching all his attention. Mostly because you aren't wearing anything else. -"Do you need help?" His voice unaffected, but his eyes are fully concentrated on your body, sharps like daggers (maybe he hopes he'll be able to tear the apron down with his intense gaze). "Yes, Raiden. Thank you." You smile back. -You cook with no interruption, Raiden doesn't help much, his eyes fixed on your body rather than on the stoves. -You both sit, dishes in front of you, warm an inviting. -"Can I compliment you, Raiden?" "For what?" "Your self-control." He chuckles, understanding perfectly. -"What do I have to do to make you lose control? Don't I look nice enough?" Raiden gasps loud at your foolishness. "I just didn't want to cross any boundary, but believe me-" His eyes get darker, pupils black pools you can dive into "You look absurdly hot. Come here." Raiden growls out. -You are ready to sit on his lap, to encircle his hips with your legs, but Raiden stops you, clicking his tongue. -His index finger points at his knee, tapping on it. -"You have to pay for teasing me the entire evening. Show me how desperate you are for me." -You nod, mouth dry. -You don't mind this side of Raiden.

Liu Kang: -He knows you will do that, he saw it. Liu Kang awaits, patience is the virtue of the strong. -And damn Liu Kang is really strong. -So, when it finally happens, Liu Kang's smile goes from one ear to the other, his chest rising up and down after a heavy breath. -You turn around, smirk on your face. Smirk that fades quick when you notice Liu Kang's expression; he knew about this. -"You look wonderful." "And you should stop spoiling surprises!" You say angrily, as scary as a pomeranian showing his teeth in Liu Kang's eyes. -The only scary thing is the wooden spoon you are twirling under his nose that may stain his white shirt. -"You are right, dear one. But it just happened! Me and Geras were looking around-" "No excuses, mister!" Now the wooden spoon point straight at his nose, the surprise silencing Liu Kang. -But not for long. -"You are right, I have to ask for forgiveness." Liu Kang says, getting on his knees, while his hands slide down your waist. -"Liu, what are you- Hey!!" You shout in surprise. You didn't expect your boyfriend to lift up the end of your apron, his fingers pinching the cloth up. -Your naked legs, and not only, are in front Liu Kang, that has to keep himself from licking his lips. -"Now is time for the sinner to pay for his mistakes." Liu Kang's hands rub your legs and his head get close to your sex, your apron now covering his head. -You can feel him, but not see what is going on. -The sinner paid well his redemption.

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #mk1 raiden #raiden x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #my heart always beat with joy when I see a sanrio or pokemon pfp🫶🏻

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

Just One Reason: Charity Case

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stand in the changing room, staring at the mirror, at yourself. Peppermint cloys on your tongue as you consider the dainty blue sweater. It isn’t your pick. Few of the clothing are. You can barely differentiate between the weaves and colours.

“Well?” Lloyd calls from the other side of the thin barrier between you.

You rarely used dressing rooms. You shop at the thrift shop, find whatever looks like it will fit, and go. Not that you even do that often. You’ve been wearing the same wardrobe of used pieces for years.

You shift and touch the little frill along the collar. It frames your neckline prettily but it’s just too much. A nice strong cableknit with sleeves you can tuck your hands into and some corduroys are much more practical.

“Come on, toots, I’m dying. You find anything you like?” He urges.

You face the door and slide back the lock. You step out. The walls are lined with mirrors. Behind him, behind you, beside you, everywhere. You pinch the frilly hem as you bite your lip.

“I don’t know...” you drawl.

“Wowza, that’s cute,” he smiles from the bench. His hands are full as he holds both your lattes over his lap. “I like the colour. Be nice with a skirt.”

“Skirt?” You mutter, “I don’t really...”

“I grabbed a few, why don’t you try one on?” He prompts.

You hesitate then shrug. You turn back and see yourself reflect on the door. You only notice then that the light weave clings to the outline of your bra. You quickly hide inside and shuffle through the many hangers.

You don’t realise how short the skirt is until you get it on. The lace lining sticks out the bottom and four little bows decorate the cream material. It’s sophisticated in a way you aren’t. You sift through and find a top you think matches.

You steel yourself before you emerge again. Lloyd’s impatience seeps through with a clearing of his throat. You step out and clutch your hands behind you, staring past him.

“Wow,” he breathes, “that’s nice, tootsie, we’re definitely getting that.”

“Oh, I don’t know about the white,” you sway, “it’ll get stained.”

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying it but don’t be so pessimistic,” he chortles.

“Sure, you’re right,” you agree quietly. “Well, still lots to go through.”

You shuffle back into the change room, shivering at the rush of air that floods beneath the short hem of the skirt. You continue the tedious task of going through each and every piece. You can’t focus on any of it. You’re indifferent to even the nicest garment, things that you may have coveted in a clearer state of mind.

Lloyd carries your haul to the counter after handing off the cups. His is empty and yours is cold. You put his in the bin near the desk as he pays. You look down, embarrassed.

“Lloyd, you don’t--”

“Sweetie, Merry Christmas,” he interrupts and smirks at the front desk lady. “Careful with that, don’t wrinkle it.”

He might be nice to you but there’s those moments where he’s so... demanding. You wish he’d be a bit kinder to the people doing things for him. You offer the associate a sheepish smile then hide behind the cup. You taste the cold espresso and hover.

Lloyd gathers up the bags and leads you back into the crowded mall. You drain half the cup and give up. You subtly toss it as you pass one of the many waste bins.

“Well, you still need some basics,” he declares and glances at you, nudging you with his elbow, “you know, under-roos.”

“Oh, uh, yeah...”

“There’s a Victoria’s Secret right there.”

“Victoria--” you gulp. “That’s fine, er, no, there’s probably somewhere else.”

“Hello,” a woman calls as Lloyd struts towards the marquee of the lingerie store. “We’re having a promotion. You can spin the wheel and get a coupon.”

You cringe and hide behind him. He spins and gets a coupon for thirty percent off. The woman is tall and her dark red hair is perfectly waved. She’s all in black that clings to her figure prettily.

“Come on, tootsie roll,” Lloyd ushers you inside. The boutique is far too nice for you.

You keep your arms crossed as Lloyd browses. He is unfazed by the crotchless lace and the sleek satin. You get to a table strewn with cotton thongs and thick-banded boyshorts.

“You get the pick of the litter,” he declares, “you need a bra? Maybe six?”

“Lloyd,” you murmur, “I don’t know...”

“What’s your size?” He peeks at your chest then his brows pop up and he chuckles. “Sorry, just trying to help.”

“Um, I wear... sport bras, so...”

“Hmm, let me find...” He turns and strides off before he can finish his thought.

You frown and look down. You see a nice pair of coral panties but when you turn them over, you find the have a narrow back. You just want your Walmart high-rise. You sniff and step out of the way of some other shoppers.

“There she is,” Lloyd appears out of the crush, “Toots, this is Lara, she’s going to get you fitted.”

“Fitted?” You utter.

“Yeah, she can help measure you for your bra size--”

“That’s okay--”

“It’s five minutes,” Lara insists, “in the back.”

“We want to get you something nice,” Lloyd argues, “don’t we? Get bang for our buck.”

You don’t have it in you to resists. It’s nice. You’ve never bothered with anything like that. Everything you have just does the job. It doesn’t matter if it really fits, just if you can get it on. And everything you have is gone. You suspect his present is more charity than holiday cheer.

Embarrassed, you nod and try to force a smile. Lara waves you toward the dressing room and Lloyd turns to peruse the table of panties. You cringe and drag your feet across the store.

As you’re shut in with Lara, she has you take off your shirt. You’re uncomfortable as she measures you through your sport bra. It’s almost like a medical exam.

“He’s really nice,” she says.

“Hm?” You sniff.

“Your boyfriend. Gonna be a really happy holiday,” she chimes.

“Oh, he’s not...” you drone but don’t finish.

“Husband?” She wonders.

You shrug. You don’t bother explaining. You just want to get out of this place. All these strangers are making you dizzy.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #drabble #just one reason #the gray man

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mellowsadistic · 1 year ago

Text

The Flower Girl - Part 2

As Grace stared at Jessica, angry and confused, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled. “What’s going…”

But Jessica’s presence suddenly seemed magnified tenfold. It was as if Grace was looking up at someone much bigger than her, even though she and Jessica were the same height. There was a strange tingling in her brain, a rush of sudden vertigo. She imagined she might fall over, right onto her bottom. She giggled. That would be silly! She shook her head vigorously from side to side, trying to clear it.

“Not your… Not your big day,” said Grace, frowning. “I’m the bride.”

Jessica let out another one of her tinkling laughs. “Silly baby, you’re not the bride! Rob can’t get married to a silly little girl like you. This is my wedding, but I’m being very generous and letting you be the flower girl. Aren’t you lucky?”

Grace felt her head nodding enthusiastically. “Fank you!” she heard herself lisp. What the hell was happening?! The flower girl? Her head was clearing, but it felt as though she couldn’t control herself, like she was nothing but a passenger in her own body!

“Look what I got for you to wear, sweetie,” said Jessica, and she held up the dress she’d been carrying.

It was silly, frilly, and very small. The sleeves were puffy, the short skirt looked more like a tutu than anything else, and it had a large bow on the back.

Grace felt sick at the sight of it. No self-respecting woman would ever wear something so childish, something clearly meant for the youngest of children. But her body seemed to think differently. She heard herself gasp with excitement, and she thrust out her arms and made grabby hands at the ridiculous thing.

“Awww!” Olivia and Caroline cooed.

What was going on?! What was happening to her?! Her head was fully clear now, but Grace’s body still was completely out of her control. Why were Olivia and Caroline acting like nothing was wrong?!

“Alright, Gracie,” Jessica laughed. “Let’s get you changed. Olivia, Caroline, could you help her out of my dress?”

The two women hurried forwards and got to work. Grace could only stand there obediently, smiling vapidly and crying on the inside while her bridesmaids worked together to strip off various pieces of her attire and lift the beautiful dress back up over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear – and she didn’t get to keep those for long either.

“I can’t believe we ever thought you were an adult,” Olivia said, unclasping Grace’s bra and letting her large breasts spill out. She tittered at the sight of Grace’s tits wobbling on her chest. “Isn’t it funny how such a silly little girl has such big boobies? These massive knockers must have been how you tricked Rob into thinking you were a grown-up.”

To Grace’s horror, she started giggling and jumping up and down on the spot, making her bare boobs jiggle about madly.

Everyone laughed at her, and Olivia said, “I thought so! You’re just a naughty little brat, aren’t you sweetie? Just like Jessica said. I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses, Gracie. Jessica is clearly the one who’s meant to marry Rob, not you.”

Olivia would never say those kind of things to her! Grace was sure of that. Jessica must have done something to her, and Caroline as well!

Once Grace was standing in nothing but her undies, Olivia went over to Jessica with her wedding dress and started to help her change into it. Meanwhile, Caroline took the flower girl dress and held it up again for Grace to see.

“You’re going to look just like a princess, Gracie!” she said brightly.

Just like before, Grace couldn’t take her eyes off the mirror in front of her. But this time, her transformation was very different. Caroline slipped the tiny little flower girl dress over Grace’s head and started making adjustments to it, brushing down the skirts and squeezing Grace’s tits into the bodice.

Grace winced. It was so tight across the chest that it was painful. Her breasts bulged out obscenely through the fabric, and the puffy, frilly, tutu-like skirt barely reached past her bottom.

“There we go!” Caroline said. “Don’t you look pretty?”

Grace looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to rip the ridiculous dress off her body and scream at everyone until someone told her what the fuck was going on. She wanted to smack Jessica hard across the face and throw her out of the venue. Instead she smiled stupidly. “Uh-hu!”

“Don’t forget to do her hair,” Jessica smirked, and Caroline nodded.

Grace could only stand there with a dumb grin on her face while her bridesmaid tied her sleek blonde hair into ridiculous pigtails sticking out from either side of her head.

There was a knock on the door and Annie, her third bridesmaid, finally came back into the room.

“Hi girls!” she said.

Grace prayed that maybe, this time, someone was going to come to her rescue. But then she saw that Annie was carrying something. Something large and white and rectangular.

When she realised what it was, Grace felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach. Even the stupid little girl in charge of her body didn’t like it.

“Don’t need dat!” she heard herself whine as Annie came towards her, unfolding the crinkly, adult-sized disposable diaper as she went.

“Oh yes you do!” said Jessica loudly, and Grace looked over at her, her bottom lip trembling. “Toilets are a thing of the past for you, Gracie,” she said, a malicious look in her eyes. “Stupid little girls like you go potty in their pants, and that means you need a nappy on.”

Annie lifted up Grace’s flower girl dress, slipped a finger into the waistband of her underwear, and started sliding them down.

Grace looked on in horror, a stupid little pout still on her face, as her lacy white lingerie, a sexy surprise for Rob on their wedding night, was tugged down her legs. No, she thought, watching as Annie tossed them aside, come back!

But Annie was already slipping the bulky diaper between Grace’s legs, holding it up while she taped it into place. Grace could feel the soft, thirsty padding pressing against her pussy, ready to soak up all the pee-pee accidents she might have. This couldn’t be happening to her!

“There we go!” Annie cooed. “This suits you much better than that little lacy number. Your undies need to be designed in terms of how many potty accidents they can hold, not sex appeal.”

Once Grace’s nappy was on, Caroline stepped forwards again and, in case there was any doubt about Grace’s new position, placed a flower crown on top of her head.

“There’s just one more thing she needs,” Jessica said, walking over to her old clothes and fishing in the pockets. “Here we go!” She came back over and shoved a bright pink pacifier into Grace’s mouth, where it immediately started bobbing between her lips. “Perfect,” Jessica purred, drinking in Grace’s appearance like she couldn’t get enough of it. “We’ll be ready to go very soon.”

While her bridesmaids made the finishing touches to Jessica’s outfit, Grace toddled around impatiently, her thick diaper rustling noisily between her legs.

Then, without warning, she felt a sudden pressure in her bladder. She clutched her hands to her crotch, but the urge to go had become uncontrollable almost the moment it had appeared. Grace felt pee rushing into her pants, drenching the thick padding between her legs. The front of her Pampers discoloured, sagging until the yellow-tinged padding peaked out below the hem of her dress.

“Uh-oh,” she said softly, wrinkling her nose as the sharp smell of piss reached it. Inside her head, Grace was shrieking in horror. She wanted to throw up. She’d never been so disgusted in her life! It was awful, the feeling of her pee sloshing around in her pants, the sopping wet padding pressed against her nether regions. Someone had to save her! They had to!

At last, Jessica was done. She smirked down at Grace in her ridiculous little flower girl dress, dummy in her mouth, her hair in ludicrous pigtails. “I think someone had better check the baby’s nappy,” she said.

Caroline stepped forward, lifted up Grace’s dress, and probed the front of her diaper.

“She’s done a wee-wee,” Caroline announced. “Should I change her?”

“Is she about to leak?” asked Jessica.

“No, I think it can take a bit more,” Caroline replied, as Grace fidgeted in place like an impatient little girl, praying desperately that her bridesmaids would come to their senses, that someone would rescue her.

“Leave her for now,” Jessica instructed, a note of delight just detectable in her voice. “We don’t want to waste nappies.”

“You’re in charge,” said Caroline, and she actually did a little curtsey.

“That’s right,” said Jessica, her smile widening. “I am. It’s my big day, after all.”

#mellowsadistic

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rotworld · 2 months ago

Text

Where They Keep Winged Things

after an exhausting night of being chased, captured and sentenced to convenire service, you wake up in the eerie mansion of a powerful nightbound and the strange fledglings in his care. welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.

->(more) introduction to the "meanvamps" universe. suggestive but not explicit; contains power imbalance, feral behavior, captivity. also on ao3.

Something smells sweet.

That’s the first and only thing you know for a time, lured from the abyss of sleep into groggy consciousness by a mouthwatering, irresistible scent. You struggle to identify it. Syrup? Frosting? Not chocolate, not quite, more delicate than that yet twice as potent. It’s perfect, whatever it is, dessert incarnate with the fresh tang of a fruit tart and the decadent weight of caramel-covered flan. You wipe the drool from your mouth and open your eyes to flickering light and shadow. Candles. Curtains? A canopy, you realize slowly. This is a four-poster bed, heavy blue drapes tied to the wooden columns with thick gold cords. You sit up slowly. The fog clears from your mind one blink at a time. This isn’t your bed. This isn’t your room. It reeks of dust and stale air like an attic that hasn’t been aired out in a while. Candlelight gleams on the wooden frames of antique furniture, decorative end tables and bookcases and a fancy sofa where a nightbound sits, eyes aglow. Bleary confusion sharpens into dread.

“Good evening,” Athanasius says, gloved hands resting in his lap. He’s dressed differently than he was at the Council meeting. Not as formal? It’s hard to tell. He looks less like he’s going to walk the red carpet and more like a Renaissance Fair escapee in an absurdly frilly white top and form-fitting black trousers. You watch him carefully when he stands in a fluid motion, tracking his slow approach to your bedside. He’s infuriatingly beautiful, the kind of pretty that makes a person tongue-tied. Long lashes, Cupid’s bow lips, ink black hair all the way down his back. He looks at you with perpetual bedroom eyes, always half-lidded like a sleepy, sated predator toying with prey it doesn’t have the appetite for yet.

“Evening?” you repeat in confusion. It was already late when you were dragged before the Council, wasn’t it?

“You slept soundly for an entire day. I thought I may need to persuade you to rest longer, but there was no need. You must have been exhausted.”

You almost ask him how long he’s been sitting there, watching you. You decide the answer probably wouldn’t make you feel better. “Where am I?” you ask.

“The Belanger Estate. My convenire.” There’s a hint of pride in his voice. “I apologize for the mustiness. This room has not been in use for some time. The bedding and pillowcases have been washed, but I did not have time to finish dusting.” You glance around cautiously. Everything looks old and overly ornate, too pretty to use. It feels like a museum, not a bedroom. “You do not like it,” Athanasius notes, his gentle enthusiasm unaffected. “You may redecorate, if you wish. I am eager to see you comfortable.”

You’d argue if you had the strength, but all you can muster is a sigh. Maybe it’s lingering mesmerism, or maybe it’s all the late nights and paranoia you’ve been stewing in for months. You’re still sore everywhere, your back one big bruise from the Lord Regent’s demonstration. You wince trying to sit up and Athanasius hums softly, smiling like he’s watching a kitten learn to walk. Hesitantly, you peel the covers off. You’re not surprised to find your clothes were changed, but these pajamas are yours. It brings you an unexpected rush of relief. You didn’t have much to begin with—couldn’t, with how much you moved—but you still feel a hint of relief. Anything familiar will make this more bearable. “You got my clothes?” you ask.

“That thoughtful fledgling from the task force delivered some of your belongings,” Athanasius explains. He must mean Edmund. You’re torn between discomfort and gratitude, imagining him picking through your closet. “The rest will arrive in the coming nights, but he was insistent that you have your own clothing.” You flinch when he suddenly tilts his head in that abrupt, owl-like movement, a distinctly nightbound gesture, regarding you with a slight frown. “I hoped to have garments made for you. I had something lovely in mind, but I was advised against it.”

“Am I supposed to be grateful?”

He laughs softly and shakes his head. “I expect nothing yet. Obedience will come with time and I am patient.” You’re careful to avoid him when you scoot to the edge of the bed, maintaining as much distance as you can. He allows it, eyes arched in amusement. “Perhaps you would like a tour of the estate?” he offers.

You don’t answer, staring at the walls. Neutral, cream-colored, divided into panels by beveling and golden accents. A handful of paintings hang in metal frames. All landscapes, you notice, horizontal stretches of forests and mountains, all dawn or day with gentle pastel skies. There’s a window but the curtains are closed.

“You do not want to speak to me. I understand. Will you accept food?”

The mere mention of food makes your stomach clench tighter. You’re starving. Did you have a proper meal at all yesterday? You shrug, trying not to look too eager. “Is someone baking something? It smells like dessert.”

“Does it?” he muses. That smirk makes you nervous. “I wondered if that might wake you. Do you recognize the scent?” You shake your head, surprised when you get another sharp tilt of the head in response. He’s looking at you the same way the Council did last night, all concern and bewilderment. “Truly? You have never tasted nectar? I was told there were gaps in your knowledge, but I did not realize they were so severe.”

“I’ve heard of it,” you say, defensive. Athanasius gives you a considering look, his lips twisted into a thoughtful frown.

“Do you know the tale of Qayin’s Curse?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” You take some pride in the slight twitch of irritation at the corner of his mouth. He’s not unflappable after all.

“Then tell it to me,” he says.

“I’m not an idiot, I know that stupid fucking story—”

His fingers hook beneath your chin and tilt your gaze upwards, ensuring you don’t miss his frigid stare. “As I said, I am patient. I will allow you to test my limits and discover where the boundaries are, and I will be gentle for your first infractions.” His soft, sweet tone never wavers but you feel the unspoken threat in the unyielding firmness of his hand, his thumb settling over your lower lip. “Here it is. The first boundary. I do not recommend you push any further.”

You don’t back down and you don’t shy away, no matter how much the most primal part of your brain screams that you’re staring into the eyes of something seconds from ripping open your throat. Athanasius’ eyes are drawn to the flex and release of muscle in your throat when you swallow. “Why is this so important?” you ask.

“Because there is no shelter in ignorance. You have much to learn, and I must know where to begin teaching.”

You can’t deny the temptation. Living in hiding has denied you valuable information. There’s a lot you don’t know about the nightbound, or even about being a witch. Athanasius sees you come to a decision before you speak, giving you a pleased smile and a condescending pat on the cheek. You don’t snap at him because you know that’s what he wants but you don’t bother to hide your contempt. “Once upon a time, you used to be able to walk in the sun. People mistook you for gods because they couldn’t kill you, no matter how much they wished they could. You were kings and warlords and you did whatever you wanted, keeping humans like cattle. You didn’t need as much blood back then, but you liked the taste. Who was going to stop you if you decided to drain a village dry? But the worst of you was Qayin the Kinslayer, so of course he was in charge.” This is a story every witch knows, first spoken over the cradle. When you had no one else to tell it to you, you started whispering it to yourself. You didn’t want to forget.

“Unsurprising to hear that you do not consider Qayin a magnanimous ruler.” Athanasius chuckles at the withering look you give him. “There are many versions of this story. Some nightbound describe our predecessor as a more sympathetic or tragic figure.”

“Oh, of course,” you say. “Can’t think of anything more tragic than a greedy vampire with a hair-trigger temper who murders all of his problems.”

“I am not trying to aggravate you, merely prepare you for the nights ahead. There are those who venerate Qayin and seek to resurrect the old way of life. Rest assured that I do not tolerate such rhetoric in this convenire.”

Admittedly, this surprises you. “Not a fan of Qayin?”

“No,” Athanasius says. Huh, you think. That wasn’t just any old no, but a distinctly curt, slightly forceful, do-not-argue-with-me-about-this kind of no. “Continue. How does Qayin become cursed?”

The abrupt subject change is the cherry on top. Apparently Qayin is some kind of conversational landmine in this household. You’ll be sure to use this information courteously and responsibly. “He heard a rumor that his human livestock was up to something,” you continue, “so he got all his awful friends together to put a stop to it. Turns out it wasn’t just a rumor. The people he’d tortured and terrorized into obedience were tired of living in fear. They wanted him dead. And the only ones who really thought they could do it were the ones who could use magic.” Your voice grows quieter as your bravado wilts. This isn’t a happy story. “Of course, they didn’t actually stand a chance. He found them and he made them suffer before he killed them. And that was that. No more sunlight for any of you. No more being unkillable. No more blood orgies just for the hell of it. You don’t choose your indulgences. They rule you now.”

Athanasius says nothing for a while. You find his eyes shut, his head bowed slightly. You don’t know him well enough to guess what he’s thinking or feeling. You wonder if the nightbound mourn what they lost. “And the curse?” he asks after a time. “Where were you told it came from?”

You shrug. “From all the pain and cruelty. Like a haunting.”

He hums, fingers pressed to his mouth in contemplation. “I see. Whoever told you was deliberately vague. That is common in the witch tradition.” You shrug again, staring at the wall some more. “Among the nightbound, some say it was divine retribution. Not the witches themselves, but the wrath of something that favored them. It is, as you might imagine, contentious to say it was a witch-curse. Many believe it was, but those who look favorably upon Qayin take this to mean they are owed something in recompense.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” you say firmly.

You’re really starting to hate his indulgent, eternally patient smile. “Come. I would like to see you savor your first taste of nectar.” He offers his hand. He says nothing when you ignore it, climbing out of bed by yourself, but you feel his gaze burning into your back.

Athanasius called it an “estate,” but you’re still shocked by just how overwhelming the place is. It’s not just the sprawling size but the anachronistic strangeness of it, half a dozen eras and styles patchworked together to disorienting effect. One hallway is boldly Baroque, gold and marble and covered in a headache-inducing orgy of detail (That vase is from the 20th century, made of bronze, marble and ormolu, Athanasius points out). The next is all geometric patterns and dramatic jewel tones, slick Art Deco (This Tiffany lamp is an original, and a personal favorite, Athanasius mentions). A winding staircase descends into a lounge that is Victorian Gothic at its most imperious, dark wood and red carpet, somber and stately. (The bookshelf is 19th century, if I recall correctly. Not a piece I chose, but it has grown on me with time, Athanasius muses.) A cluster of velvet-upholstered armchairs and a curvaceous chaise lounge are arranged around a TV mounted to the wall. Someone’s left a Nintendo Switch running on the dimmed menu screen.

Athanasius smiles unhelpfully at your bewildered expression and gestures for you to follow. You can hear voices echoing down the hall as the scent of nectar grows stronger. Two people? It sounds like an argument, or maybe just some panic and excitement.

“I think it needs a few more petals.”

“A few? How much is a few? Like…this much?”

“Ahh. Maybe?” Utensils clink. Someone stirs something.

“Does that look right? Oh god, it doesn’t. We put in too much. Ohhhh it’s fucked, we fucked it up!”

“Hm. Smells bitter.”

“Renaud. Renaud!”

“It’s fine, don’t panic. Doesn’t nectar smell really sweet to witches? The bitterness is good, it should add contrast.”

“Fuck, dude, we had one fucking job. Why is this so hard?”

Athanasius leads you into what might be a kitchen. It’s dimly lit, just like everywhere else, a few candles glimmering on the countertops. It’s probably all very pretty and vintage somewhere beneath a sea of dirtied plates and pans and baking supplies, the aftermath of some flour-related incident blanketing everything like a layer of fresh snow. There are two men huddled over the stove, fussing with a boiling pot, but they both turn to stare like startled cats when you walk in. The glint of their eyes startles you. They look so normal, no military uniforms or formal fashion from another era. The bigger, taller of the two looks like any other guy you might run into at the gym in a sleeveless shirt and drawstring shorts. Hints of red dye fade to maroon at the tips of his short black hair. The other one has long, striped sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing off snaking tattoos, both ears pierced. They’re wearing matching slippers.

But they’re staring. Not just a curious, head to toe look, not in lingering surprise, but something much more intensely focused. They’re utterly entranced by the sight of you, forgetting about the powdery mess they’re standing in and the pot bubbling on a burner behind them. One of them swallows hard and mutters a curse. The other realizes he’s drooling and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I see a great many things have transpired in my absence,” Athanasius says. That seems to break the spell, both of the younger nightbound suddenly aware again and exchanging guilty glances. “Please remember to clean up after yourselves.”

“Right, yeah, of course,” they insist, quick and overlapping.

“As you can see, the time has come for introductions. Sacrament—”

You say your name, loud and clearly enunciated. “Don’t call me ‘sacrament,’” you warn them. The younger nightbound shrink back warily like they’re expecting something to explode.

Athanasius smiles and continues smoothly like you never interrupted him. “These are the members of the convenire you shall provide for, Orion and Renaud.” They nod one after the other when their names are called. Orion is the bigger one and the more obviously nervous of the two. Renaud is a bit shorter and a lot leaner, brown hair just past his nape. The more he looks at you, the more his frown deepens. Athanasius glances around the kitchen. “Where is Mihai?”

Renaud rolls his eyes. “His room.”

“He got nervous,” Orion mentions, sounding much more sympathetic.

“I will see if he would like to join us. Take this opportunity to become acquainted.” Athanasius gives you a look that you struggle to interpret before he leaves, a smile that looks like something between pity and a warning. You aren’t sure whether he’s worried about you or the younger nightbound. They look alarmed when he leaves, like he’s just dumped a poisonous snake on the kitchen floor and left them alone to deal with it. Orion shifts his weight back and forth between his legs nervously. Renaud leans against the kitchen counter and watches you with narrowed eyes.

“It’s boiling over,” you say.

Orion hisses a panicked, “godfuckingdammit!” and whirls back towards the stove, stirring aggressively and turning down the heat. Renaud doesn’t move. He looks annoyed when you meet his gaze and increasingly uncomfortable when you don’t look away.

“Just so we’re clear,” you tell them, “I don’t want to be here.”

“And you think we do?” Renaud asks sharply.

You kind of did, although the quiver of barely restrained anger in his voice makes you reconsider. “This is all new to me. I thought being in a convenire just meant you were all roommates.”

“This is a supervised convenire. We’re stuck here until they say we aren’t anymore.”

“They? You mean like the Council?”

He snarls, flashing his fangs at you. “Who else? How are you such a clueless fucking juice pack?”

“Juice pack?”

“Renaud, man, come on.” Orion looks back at both of you over his shoulder, pleading. “None of us have it easy. Come help me with this, I wanna get the mixture right—”

“Do it yourself,” Renaud mutters, shoving past you to get out of the kitchen. Orion takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, dragging a hand over his own face in exasperation.

“I’m sorry about him,” he says sheepishly.

You shrug. “I wasn’t really expecting a warm welcome. What’s his deal, though? Does he hate witches or just me?”

Orion shrugs. “He kinda hates everyone. Shit, hold on, I think this is done. Lemme get it all set up and you can tell me what you think.”

You watch him rush around in a panic, looking for a clean bowl and a spoon he hasn’t used yet, flinging open cupboards and rummaging through the refrigerator for something. “What about Athanasius? What’s his deal?” you ask.

“What, like the dresses and stuff? Yeah, it kinda threw me off at first but it’s just his thing, he likes being pretty. And, like, he is, right? The first time I saw him, I, uh, actually thought he was a chick—”

“I mean what’s his deal,” you cut him off. “Is he in charge around here? Is he on the Council? He seems important, but I don’t know how…”

Your train of thought is derailed entirely by the dish Orion starts to assemble right in front of you. It’s ice cream, three big scoops crammed into a glass dish. It’s white like vanilla but speckled with something, colorful little nodules sparkling like prisms. Orion brings the pot from the stove over and ladles out a thick, creamy concoction, something cherry red and glittering with tiny crystal particulates. There are flower petals mixed in, minced and shredded and falling delicately over the melting ice cream. He scrapes the bottom of the pot a few times to get the very last of it and sets a spoon to the side. It looks grotesque when he’s done, the scarlet syrup and petal chunks making the ice cream resemble dead thing slowly oozing out its insides, but that doesn’t matter at all. That exquisitely sweet smell has you swiping the bowl closer immediately, shoving a spoonful into your mouth without a second thought.

You moan. It’s so fucking good. Were you really so starving that a bowl of ice cream is the height of ecstasy?

“Oh. Wow. You really like it,” Orion says, a grin spreading across his face. You want to tell him to stop staring but you can’t stop eating long enough to talk. “It’s Athanasius’ recipe. Kind of like an affogato, except the ice cream is mostly nectar and the espresso is roseblood. Oh, uh, he said you might not know what that is. It helps your body make more blood so you can feed everyone here safely.” He inches closer a little bit at a time, leaning against the counter and watching you demolish your dessert. “I work part time at Bats ‘n Bagels. You know, the all night bakery? Uh, maybe you don’t. But I’m getting pretty good at sweets and stuff so I can make you things like this. I mean, if you want. No pressure. Just—”

“Give them a moment, Orion. They need this.”

You almost drop your spoon. When did Athanasius come back into the kitchen? How did he get past you without you seeing or hearing him? He’s lurking just behind Orion, smiling down at you with his usual patronizing glee. “Is that, like, normal?” Orion asks quietly, like you’re a wild animal he’s trying not to disturb. “I didn’t know nectar made ‘em so, uh…distracted.”

“Only in cases of extreme magic depletion,” Athanasius says.

You can hear them both talking, can see them both standing there, but you can’t bring yourself to think any further than that. You’re tired. You’re hungry. There’s a sharp urgency in your gut, a craving that’s gone unsatisfied until this moment. Your greatest concern is finishing the food before someone takes it from you. Athanasius coos softly when you drag the bowl closer, further from them, hunched over it protectively. You’re vaguely aware of a hand stroking your head but you pay it no mind.

“You will need to keep an eye on them. They are untrained and do not know their limits. If they use their magic, it will exhaust them, and that will make them more susceptible to the scent of nectar. There are those who would exploit that. You must be wary of dissenters and lawbreakers. This is how easily it can happen.” Athanasius pulls off one of his gloves and swipes his index finger along the bottom of the bowl. You bristle angrily until he holds his hand in front of your face, palm up, a thick glob of perfect sweetness glistening on the pad of his finger. He’s offering, clearly. Should you…? You glance up at an encouraging smile. “Go on,” he says. So you do. Just your tongue to start, a tentative lick, but you can’t control yourself. It tastes so good and he sweeps up more from the bottom of the bowl just for you, not just with one finger but gathering as much as he can in his palm. You suck the sweet stickiness from his fingers and eat from his hand.

You hear a sharp inhale and an audible swallow. Orion leans a little closer. “Are you using mesmerism?” he asks hoarsely.

“No. This is how tempting nectar becomes in the throes of magic exhaustion.” He presses down on your tongue and you let out a weak moan, your eyes fluttering shut. “This is our sacrament, Orion. Our feast and our responsibility. You must keep them from harm to be worthy of such exquisite blood. Swear to me that you will.”

“I will, I swear,” Orion says, firm and decisive.

How long do you suckle and nip at the hand offering the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted? You lose track of time. When the bowl is empty, clarity comes with both euphoria and humiliation. You feel better. Well-rested, like you’ve had a good night’s sleep, clear-headed for the first time since you woke up. You also can’t meet bear to look at Athanasius but you can feel how smug he is, can just imagine the look on his stupid fucking face, and it makes your cheeks burn even hotter. You’ve changed your mind. You hate nectar. You never want to see it ever again.

“Ah, good, you are back with us,” Athanasius says sweetly. He waltzes over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands of ice cream and nectar and your saliva, which you are desperately try to forget ever happened. You look at Orion instead but find him avoiding your gaze as he starts wiping off the counters. You happen to notice a very distinct, very large bulging outline in his sweatpants. “You have had your nectar, but you must eat something more substantial. I would like to begin administering the roseblood regimen immediately. It is not safe to take roseblood without increasing the iron in your diet…” Athanasius trails off. You’re startled when he comes over and cups your chin, studying your weary expression intently. “You are overwhelmed,” he notes. “Come. You should sit down.”

You nod weakly, in agreement for once. Orion offers a wave when Athanasius leads you out of the kitchen and back to the room you saw before with the chairs and the TV. He urges you to sit on the chaise lounge and offers a blanket, and you’re too tired to put up a fight when he drapes it over you.

“You will adjust,” he assures you, stroking your shoulder. “It will not always feel so strange and unfamiliar. I will prepare at least one of your meals each day and you may spend your time however you would like. For now, you may not leave the estate unaccompanied but that could change.”

“The Council put in my two week notice, huh?” you mutter.

He strokes your cheek tenderly. “If you do as you are told, you will find pleasure in your service.”

You shove his hand away. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you.”

Athanasius smiles and this one is different from the others. It’s just as arrogant as you expect but it doesn’t have that sleepy contentment you’ve gotten used to, none of the calm, collected confidence he normally exudes. It’s feral. It’s excited. He shows you his fangs and his eyes arch in eager anticipation. “I told you,” he says smoothly, “I expect nothing yet.” That’s definitely a lie. He expects that you’ll keep that promise you made in front of the Council, an oath to make his life as miserable as possible. He must think that he can break you. And maybe he could, maybe if you’re not careful and you start letting your guard down, but you didn’t get this far by being easy prey.

You bite your tongue and bow your head, feigning exhaustion and submission. Athanasius hums in approval and tells you he’s going to check on Orion. Does he feel how intensely you glare at his back when he leaves? It doesn’t matter.

He’s going to be sorry he ever brought you here.

#rotpeach writes #meanvamps #turns out i needed a bit more intro lol we'll actually start focusing on specific characters next time #lore and terminology posts coming soon(tm)

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eluxcastar · 1 year ago

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Heyy! May i request dottore x fem!reader who is a Porcelain doll(a puppet like scara but she's made out of Porcelain instead) and likes all those cute feminine stuff and collecting stuff like bows, Porcelain dolls and more. And I wonder if dottore would like the reader being pretty feminine and what's his opinion on Porcelain dolls (don't mind when i did any mistakes, English isn't my native language)

~🎀🧷

Dottore with a doll reader

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: silly rambles about Dottore and doll reader being cute

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader (no gendered terms really used tho tbh), soft dottore (listen it's my guilty pleasure), reader has the properties of porcelain, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 950

THIS ACTUALLY reminds me of one of the very very first drafts I wrote even before Tartaglia's little brotherfication (coincidentally also of Dottore) so this is very fun. That doll was one of Sandrone's creations and I've decided so is this one

this also may hit close to home did I ever mention my slight obsession with dolls (it's worse than slight)

Dottore has fixed you many times, much to his inconvenience.

He has warned you many times against becoming reckless, but you never seem to listen, at least in his eyes. You are by no means fragile—porcelain is hard to chip away at—your habit is simply that of finding danger. Finding it, throwing yourself at it, and landing yourself here in the darkest corners of the Fatui's headquarters so the doctor can carefully string you back together.

A gentle touch is not his forte, the practised hands of a doctor toiling away in his effort to put you back together. You prefer him to Sandrone any day for how much less pain you associate with him. He can scold you all he likes, but it may never work. You'll keep coming back and asking for his help when your strings come loose, and he will oblige your request for reasons that escape even him. It is a simple process now performed practically from memory.

Your habit of collecting frankly worthless items is certainly something. The bows, frilly dresses, and varying spools of lace you always claim you'll do something with and never do all feel normal. The porcelain dolls, on the other hand, are...interesting.

You are a living porcelain doll, and yet you collect them like novelty items. Isn't that like your equivalent of collecting human babies? Whatever it is to you, people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, so he keeps quiet as you fuss over their placement and hair, straighten their clothes or whether you're willing to sacrifice the careful styling of their hair to a pretty hat. It keeps you happy and away from everything dangerous that you seem to always run into.

The truth is, you are not in the slightest delicate despite making yourself seem that way. What you are is heavy, too heavy to always be lifting onto an operating table and too heavy to be lugging your pieces around—porcelain is not light.

However, there is interest to be had in the workings of your construction, which he is reminded of each time he takes you apart and watches you divide into inanimate pieces. You talk to him sometimes, pleasant background noise, or maybe just annoying when you start asking foolish questions he can't possibly answer. He can handle every "What are you doing?" and "Why are you doing that?" but when you begin to show your ignorance regarding your own creation and try to turn to him for answers instead of Sandrone, it frustrates him.

You're supposed to answer his questions.

"She doesn't like my questions," you reason, and he never has to wonder why that is. Your incessant prodding and curiosity would irritate her, as does his indulging of your curiosity. She will complain that you're becoming restless and not as quickly satisfied, but really, nothing much at all has changed.

He can deal with your gravitation toward the things that make you happy if that's what keeps a smile on your face. One might even say he doesn't mind it, even when you pester him to help you tie your bows when they come loose in your hair or listen to your ramblings as you try to get him to help you with your dolls. He's better at tying knots than you. His hands have friction to keep the strings in place, unlike your slippery porcelain hands.

Your habits are endearing in their own way, the satisfaction with things that make you feel...human. You will never be, but the illusion of humanity and the yearning to chase it is not unlike the Segments. They think of themselves as human, believe they are, and exist as though they are human, yet they will never be as human as Prime. The only idea that makes sense is that you are displaying the same behaviour.

It is how Sandrone made you to be.

He can't say he especially blames you for following what your creation dictates. Your presence could bother him more than your interests could, namely a result of your many, many questions. It's not that you're sheltered or ignorant of the world around you—far from it—but most people don't know the nature of the things he works on, and you are no exception. You learned everything by asking, and he presents a wormhole of knowledge that you seek to understand by having him explain everything he's doing to you in great detail.

There's a bargaining that comes with it. Dottore will give you things so long as you stay out of the way, and you'll inspect them with a curious eye because he presents you with what Sandrone keeps you from. That is the only reason he can accept as to why you're talking to him, not that you like his voice and his smile, nor that you find the things he says fascinating or enjoy the light brush of his fingers against yours as he passes you your little 'distrations'. It's enough to watch him.

He complains his hands are always cold, and supposedly so are yours, but you've never felt temperature before. You like the faint glimpses of his scars, soft as his skin. They're not like yours, the closest equivalent being jagged cracks in your limbs that someone has to eventually fix before they worsen into breaks.

Things are comfortable around him. He is used to the odds quirks of sentient, inhuman beings, and a benefit of being around them is that they don't mind how weird he is by most standards.

You are something he can easily get used to lingering around. Despite your similarities to the segments, he must admit that you are far less of a bother.

#♡ — 🎀🧷 anon.#♡ — anon visit.#✦ — headcanons.#✦ — fluff.#dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #il dottore x female reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader

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drugs-and-daddyissues · 3 months ago

Text

As cupid, you never thought of love for yourself. When did you ever have time? It was 24/7/365 making people fall in love.

But this boy.. This one boy with devastating deep brown eyes, who somehow keeps avoiding your arrows for the perfectly good girl you've set out for him.

"Why can't you just cooperate? I'm trying to help you." You asked him with a pout on your face and a cross of your arms, but he was too focused on taking in your frilly white and pink dress, the way you glowed with ethereal love.

"Just come down here." He told you, and you rolled your eyes. Could he be any more stubborn?

You groaned when you saw he wasn't backing down, and you gently fluttered to the ground, your small white wings coming to a stop. "What?" You asked. "You've been dodging my arrows for weeks now, so what gives? You're not the only person on my list, you know." You huffed.

"Must be losing your touch than." He teased, fingertips coming out to gently brush over your wings. They were as soft as cotton, and versatile to allow flight.

"You're a pain, you know? Just one arrow, one tiny little destiny-changing arrow and you could fall head over heels with someone actually right for you." You argued, trying not to think too much about the sensation on your wings because of him.

"Maybe I don't want right, you ever think about that?" He countered, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Maybe I want you." He said, moving his fingers to cup your chin, forcing your gaze up at him- not like you weren't looking at him already.

You stuttered for words, clutching your bow in your hand like a lifeline. "That's not how this works, Johnny. I'm cupid, I make love, not become it."

"Then maybe love doesn't need an arrow. Maybe, and hear me out, it just finds a way on it's own. You're such a stubborn creature." He said, but his tone was inflicted with a sort of softness and affection.

Then, he leaned down and ghosted your lips with his breath, before pressing them together, making you fall far too deep, as if he was the one with the arrows.

This boy, this stubborn, infuriating boy, became the one to hold your heart in his hands, a task you didn't even think was possible.

𝐀/𝐍 Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate! I just wanted to write a quick little- probably overdone- cupid trope.

💘 taglist: @ghsttk @kittenlittle24 @needz1nk @littlerobbinphantomhive19 @trekkitkat @chronicallybubbly @mininiamh @amy-fontaine @bennwazzhere @johnnyfreakingdepp @iostparadise @carmenred28 @lovesickforhim @aelizreal @angythequeen Thank you for your support 🩷

#johnny depp love #johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader #johnnydepp #johnny depp imagines #cupid au #valentines day #john christopher depp ii

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cinhomi · 6 months ago

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Okay you want a concept, and I need to share this idea I had a few months ago. Basically I was trying on some new panties and being amazed at how soft and comfortable and pretty they were and my mind went : Jisung would DEFINITELY try lingerie on for sexy reasons but then he would try these and be like “okay the soft life chose me”. And just imagine you and him with matching soft panties, matching grey sweatpants, matching everything cuddling close and drinking tea and being happy. That’s my idea I needed to share.

I should have waited to write this, I did it while I was super tired and I also fell asleep in the process 😭 I could do better, that's for sure, but baby, I think about Jiji in lingerie more than anyone could ever imagine. that is for sure.

"Ji? What are you doing?"

Jisung freezes. He didn't expect for you to be home so... early. And now he feels so embarassed that he can't turn his head to look at you in the eyes. His puffy cheeks tint of the colour of freshly bloomed roses, while his hands tremble a bit, like the leaves outside being carried on the sidewalk by the cool breeze. His eyes are wide open for a second, and then they squeeze shut, wrinkles forming between his eyebrows, nose crunching as his teeth catch his bottom lip.

Will you think differently of him now? You do like his feminine side but... seeing your boyfriend wearing women's underwear might not be the best, especially if he's home alone, smiling at himself while posing. But then he suddenly feels the soft touch of your hand on his arm, caressing it from shoulder to wrist with your fingers, more softly than you ever did. He flinches in surprise, jumping a bit foward, before seeing your endeared look.

"You look so pretty..." the sentence just stumbles out of your mouth. You look so soft saying it, so convincing. He was at the store to buy you some pretty lingerie, but then he remembered a video you sent him saying you wanted to try and replicate it and well, the guy was wearing panties and stockings. The thought wouldn't leave his head. And it wasn't like he never wondered what it felt to wear your things, looking at you change so often. He knew you meant you wanted to try the position, but...

"Yes? Really?" he asks, under a breath, almost hoping you would say that. The fabric feels too soft, too comfortable compared to the one of his boxers. The frilly details on the elastic band are endearing and fun to look at, they make him feel tingly inside his chest. Do all girls feel prettier when wearing nice underwear? For a moment, he thinks about all the cute bras you have in your drawer.

"These suit you a lot." you purr into his ear, the corners of your lips lifted so that he sees your bright smile in the reflection of the mirror. The fingers of your other hand take the hem of the skimpy panties and play with it a little, as you leave a kiss on his nape, giggling when he squirms from the teasing touches.

He truly, really looks like a dream. The panties are white and definitely not the right size, hugging his every curve deliciously, but still looking soft on him. A little pink bow sits on the front, adding the last touch that makes you swoon. Jisung feels your arms enveloping him, hugging him from the back.

"You're not mad?" he's still unsure, still in disbelief. But the cotton feels amazing on his sensitive skin, and a little stain appears slightly on the right. He can't help it.

But then you don't reply. You just detach from him, and put down your bag on the floor. Then you let your jacket slide down your body. Jisung looks as you throw your sweater away, and in the end, just at the end, your pants. His eyes widen and his hands close in tight fists.

The mirror now reflects two pairs of white panties, with a frilly end and a pink bow carefully ebroidered at the front. Jisung can't help but grab you and take you closer, chest against chest, as he feels the delicate fabric between in his palms. You too, feel his sides under your hands, and the air becomes hot, and the kiss you share is electrical and exciting.

"What do you think about these?" you hold the black pair with the red details in front of your face, and Jisung immediately shoves them down and looks around, blushing like crazy.

"Baby please lower your voice!" he whisper-screams, covering his face with his hands, as desperate as a cartoon character. But you can't help the laugh that you let out, making an old lady look at you two.

"No one will ever know, I promise! You're just my boyfriend helping me pick up innerwear!" you kiss his cheek, the little part that's not hidden.

He suddenly looks around all over again, but the lady is no longer reserving her attention to you two, so he pouts and whines. "Won't the cashier find it suspicious that you're buying two different sizes?!" You keep looking around the thin decorated fabric, also searching for whole sets. The little store's shop bag is already full, but the image of Jisung wearing all the lingerie you touch is like a dream come true.

"I promise you that they don't care, baby." your smile is sickenly sweet, and that makes him huff. "Promise!" you add once again, making him sigh.

You've been kissing for a while now. You can usually sit together and actually listen to the documentary, but today you're a bit more cozy at your place. The new brand of tea you two decided to try turned out to be the best you have ever bought, the blankets were fresh out of the drier, especially fluffy, emanating a sweet scent of cardamom. And the cuddling became quite handsy. And you found yourself straddling Jisung, making out on the couch after licking away the crumbs of the last biscuit from his lips.

When you lower the zip of his jacket and let your hands wander under his sweatpants, meeting the familiar fabric of the panties you bought for him a soft moan escapes you. Jisung smiles. He smiles widely.

"These are the light blue ones... what are you wearing today, my baby?

#han jisung fanfic #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung smut #skz fanfic #skz drabbles #skz x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #han x female reader #skz x female reader #han jisung x female reader

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ryiju-muunie · 1 year ago

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He’s into it!

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Fem!reader/Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: established relationship, furry!reader, reader is a furry, reader is into super pink frilly Sanrio stuff, Sukuna is a whipped simp, Sukuna and Yuji are brothers mentioned, fluff, mainly fluff with a treat at the end, grinding, dry humping, pet names (pup & puppy), aftercare Word count: 1644 DESC: Ryomen Sukuna hater of mullets lover of furries

This was originally a Drabble but I got carried away! I kinda wanna make this a series, should I?

Link to my Ko-fi if you want to support me!

Requests and ASKS are open!!!

Ryomen Sukuna would never admit it to you, but he likes it when you wear those ears and paws. It was a shameless hobby you had, dressing up like that for your Instagram. It was innocent but perfect. He loved how the paws were lightly colored and oversized, making you seem smaller. Then how the ears were the same.

You looked perfect. It was perfect! But… while it was all innocent and cute he couldn’t help but feel a deep and brooding feeling reside in his chest. God, it turned him on. The way you pranced around with your phone in public, taking photos with strangers if they asked. How your eyes lit up at conventions you dragged him to, forcing him to look at all the different paws and suits. Ryomen would of course pretend it was the worst thing on her, gaffing and rolling his eyes.

And then when you weren’t looking, he’d palm the fur of a pair of ears in his hand just because he loved the fluff. He had a habit of staring at cute things. Maybe that’s why he liked you. Even though he was the total opposite, with his big black tattoos and semi-shaved haircut. You two looked -acted- completely different. Yet he liked that. You could rant to him about some drama in your community and he’d just listen. Sure he didn’t understand all of it but he just wanted to keep you happy. Not to mention he just loved looking at you like that. Pouting pink lips and fluffy pink ears. Especially the clipped ones with bows and bells.

There was a point where it was becoming too much for him. He was seated on your light-colored bed, hugging a pillow to his chest as you hummed. You were changing into something he was told he wasn’t allowed to look at until you were done. Of course, he grumbled a curse and gave you a pointed look before doing exactly as you said. He caught small glimpses, something pink and frilly of course. God, he just wanted to rip it off of your curved body and fuck you senseless.

Ryomen had a habit of staring at cute things, yes, but he had a worse habit of staring at plump skin. So when he saw you, chubby and completely adorned in the cutest clothing he’d ever seen, he needed you. It was a weird thing, so weird his younger brother liked to tease him over.

“The girl's 5’4 and she’s got you completely whipped, Ryo!” Yuji would chortle, throwing his head back before receiving a coke can to the gut.

“Shut up, brat,” Ryomen retorted, rolling his eyes as always. He didn’t admit the hold you had on him to anyone else but you if you asked him. He’d just shrug and say something like “I please my woman” which was Ryomen Sukuna for “Please marry me I’m in love with you if you leave me I’ll kill myself”.

“Ryomen,” you murmured, turning on your white socks to show your outfit. My god. He was completely done for. There was no way he was going to recover from seeing you in that! Hell, it wasn’t even revealing but it was cute. It was fucking cute. And that’s what got him!

It was a ruffled pink dress, with a ribbon cinching it just below your breasts, letting the rest of the dress flow out. It came down quite low, about your knees. Then some white stockings to cover the rest. By itself it was fine. But you paired it with your favorite ears, paws, and now a fucking tail. Ryomen swallowed and blinked a few times. He had to keep the dress intact, he had to keep the dress in TACT.

Your face fell after a moment of no answer from your boyfriend. A pout formed over your bottom lip, shining in the glowing light with a hint of sparkle. New lipgloss. He looked down at his pants, groaning at the sight of his bulge. Of course, he was solid just from a look.

“Is it really that bad?” You frowned, crossing your arms. Oh don’t do that, he thought as his eyes glanced to your slightly exposed cleavage. You were torturing him in a way you never had before, and you were completely oblivious!

Ryomen muttered your name and hissed, rolling on his side and huffing to sit on the edge of the bed. He motioned his big arm in your direction, beckoning you to come over to him. You nodded and slowly crept towards your boyfriend. At that point, you had to have seen his boner, right?

“You look nice,” he whispered, wrapping one of his big hands around your waist. His other tapped your leg, signaling he wanted you on him. Even if this turned into nothing more than a wholesome interaction, he wanted you to touch him in some way, shape, or form.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you sighed and sat down. Your eyes widened when his tent pressed against the front of your crotch, “Oh.”

“I like it,” he grumbled, “I think I like it a hell of a lot more than I should. Is that weird?” He looked at your face, which was flushed a deep pink. A small frown pulled at his bottom lip and he used his free hand to poke at the apple of your cheek, “Don’t just stare at me, woman.”

You gave him a small warning look and he quickly corrected himself, “Don’t just stare at me … princess.”

“Everyone has their fetishes. I didn’t know you liked the furry thing like that,” you spoke delicately, with a tiny smile. Clearly, you weren’t weirded out by his admission of guilt. Ryomen nodded and leaned forward, resting his head against your collarbone.

“Don’t think about teasing me in front of the brat,” he mumbled against your skin, wrapping two meaty arms around your back.

You giggled and let one hand trail up his own back to his pink hair, “I won’t. It’s kind of hot that you like it anyway…” He knew the exact expression you were making even if he didn’t see you. It was the far-away look, with an almost innocent stare. It wasn’t really innocent though. That’s why it drove him mad. You could see the sexuality burning behind your eyes as you bit down on your lip. It made him insane with lust.

“Hot huh?” He sat up, looking up at you with narrowed eyes, “I didn’t bring any condoms.” Ryomen didn’t want to admit it but he had an idea that would keep your perfect outfit on without getting ruined, not get you pregnant, and get him off. One of his hands slid down your side and up your skirt to touch along your thigh, “Grind your pussy on my bulge, puppy.”

You nodded and bit down on your swollen lip again, putting both hands on your back to remove your dress. His other hand instinctively grabbed yours and stopped you, “No. Keep it on.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Oh… okay.”

The two of you found yourselves back against the bed. Ryomen laid on his back as you ground your soaked clothed cunt against his precum-stained shorts. His hands were planted on your hips, rocking them back and forth to get the job done. He leaned his head back against one of your sanity pillows, hoping he wouldn’t cum yet. You felt so good he just needed this to last a few seconds longer. Even though he couldn’t be inside you, he didn’t need to be. Just seeing your face and how it contorted in pleasure was enough for him. You moaned like a goddess, thrusting into him for your pleasure.

“F..fuck pup. You’re driving me mad with- with that damn... mmm those ears.. f-f..uck,” he had never been so foggy.

It had to have been the outfit. Your naked body was beautiful but that’s all he’d ever fucked. He’d never fucked you decorated in all this cute stuff. God, it got him so close. He was just throbbing from the impending euphoria. Then he heard you whimper and it was all over. Your sounds got louder and louder, filling his ears with your pleasure. You placed both hands against his own, pressing your wetness further against his cock. It drove him over the edge and he gasped as a load shot out of his swollen tip. Ryomen had never cum that way, continuing to rub your cunt against him to elongate his high.

You bit your lip at the sensation, cumming a few moments later from seeing your boyfriend lose control. Even though, as he came down from his high, he felt sticky and gross, Ryomen wouldn’t have changed a thing. Seeing you in that pretty outfit grind against him made him so hot and bothered beyond belief. It was better than any penetration he could’ve asked for.

“I love you,” he whispered, pushing you down beside him. You nodded and fell forward against the bed, mumbling your own I love you as well. Ryomen Sukuna kicked off his now very soggy shorts and underwear, opting for a commando-style dress, taking off his shirt as well. You glanced at him and yawned as he sat down next to you, beginning to undo your outfit. “Ryomen…?” You mumbled in a bit of confusion.

“Let me do this, brat- er… my love,” he wasn’t very good at these sorts of pet names unless he was about to cum, it was clear. You were undressed in a few moments and pressed against your boyfriend's chest. He knew you liked this sort of thing. Aftercare? Ryomen wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but he knew it was important.

Making you happy was the most important thing in the world to him.

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braxlrose · 2 years ago

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Hello! I really like your writing and I was wondering if I could request a bill x reader? It's where reader had a very rough childhood, with parents and stuff so they dont have a really good picture of love and gets confused about little nice things Bill does for them, like comforting and just being a good boyfriend, and can sometimes be like emotionally unavailable? But they really try with Bill and, yeah! Lmao, you don't have to do this and feel free to ignore!

omggg you're literally one of my favorite writers and I love this request because I really like writing angst bc there's so much emotion so ty <3

Also this is not proof read

cw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), angst, tell me if I missed anything pls!

Growing up was hard for you. Your father was barely ever around and when he was, he was completely hammered. You tried to stay away from him when he was like that, but it was hard considering you lived in the same house and he was always getting fired from jobs. Whenever you angered him, he'd take off his belt and beat you until you were sobbing. Then would pass out on the couch and act like nothing was wrong when he woke up.

On the other hand, your mother just never seemed to be happy with you. Always nit-picking on everything you did, the way you looked, the way you did your hair, your style, the way you talked, you were either too skinny or too fat; you just couldn't do anything right in her eyes.

You always tried your best to make them happy, just having the smallest glimmer of hope that they'd be proud of you for something. All your hard work at school or everything you did for your community. All the diets you went on for your mother. Cleaning up after your father. There was just nothing you could do.

You didn't understand why they were like this. Why did they have a child in the first place if all you did was "ruin their lives". You didn't understand love at all. Your mother said that she only does this because she cares about you, but if she cared wouldn't she want you to be yourself? No, of course not. You're either like her, or nothing. And that was that.

***

Then you moved to Magdeburg, Germany. Your mother was sick of her old apartment and your father was banned from all the alcohol stores in your town, so you had to move. Again. This wasn't the first time. You've moved 4 times in the past year because of your parents, you haven't lived anywhere long enough to make any friends.

You had moved into a small village and your mother was making you go over to the neighbour's for dinner. Your father was passed out somewhere so it was just you and her. She put your hair in a high ponytail and added "cute little pink bows". She always pulled too hard on your hair when she did it. You weren't allowed to leave the house unless you put on the pink, frilly dress she got you. You had to be "perfect" and "lady-like" or else no one would like you.

You slipped on your shoes and got pushed out the door by your mother. She had also plastered your face in makeup. Mascara, eyeshadow, lipgloss, all of that. You were fifteen years old for God sakes, why did she care so much?!

"You better not make me look bad in front of our new neighbour's, got it? I don't need your running your mouth like always." You nodded your head as she smacked the back of it, making you flinch before knocking on the door. You heard footsteps coming quickly to the door before a blonde woman opened up. A smile crept onto her face as she saw us.

(Its changing from third person to first person now!)

"Oh come in! Come in!" She said to us with a big smile on her face, ushering us in. My mother pushed me into the house, with a smile. The woman in front of us leaned down and waved, "Hi! You must be y/n! It's so nice to meet you!" I froze. What was I supposed to say? What if she got mad at my tone? What if I said something wrong? What if- I looked up as my mother nudged me on the arm, glaring into my eyes. don't be rude. she didn't even have to say anything for me to understand.

"Nice to meet you too!" I said to her, trying to smile but it just ended looking uncomfortable and awkward. She stood back up to her normal height and turned around, waving us towards the living room.

"Boys! Come down here to meet our new neighbours!" The woman shouted up the stairs as me and my mother sat down on the couch. She swatted my arm again.

"Stand up straight. Your going to make me look like a bad mother!" She whispered to me, giving me that icy cold glare she can never seem to get rid of whenever she looks at me.

Just then, two boys came stumbling down the stairs. They were obviously twins but looked very different from eachother. I turned my body back around when I heard then coming into the living room. I straightened out my back and looked at them with wide eyes.

"Woah, a girl." The mophead whispered. Tch, mophead. That's what he looked like. His dreads were all over the place.

"This is Mrs. y/l/n and y/n. They moved here today. Why don't you boys show y/n around the house?" They both nodded and smiled at me. This is where it all began. My friendship with Tom and Bill Kaulitz. It's been about 4 months since then and we all became good friends really quickly.

***

Me and Bill were walking through the park while tom was out doing God-knows-what. It was December already, so it had gotten really cold. We walked on some trails before Bill stopped us.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as he bent down on his feet.

"Tying your boots. You're gonna trip on them." My eyes widened as he leaned down. I'm just a fucking idiot I didn't even notice my shoelaces were untied. Who the fuck doesn't know that? Why didn't I realize? Am I actually that stupid? I could hear my mother's voice pounding in my head.

"Oh no! You don't have to do that, it's fine really! I'm just stupid, it's f-" he covered my mouth as he got it.

"Relax, I'm already done and I don't mind. Wouldn't want my favorite neighbour to fall face first into snow." He laughed and kept walking. Why'd he do that? He should've just told me to do it on my own, right? I don't need anybody to do anything for me. He should've just left it alone! What the fuck is wrong with hi-

"Hey are you thirsty?" What? What was he saying? I looked over at him when he stopped. We were back in town now, I hadn't even noticed.

"Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face.

"Uhm..what?" I asked with a blank expression on my face. What was he saying? Why was he even asking me instead of just telling me? Isn't that easier?

"I said are you thirsty? There's a place just down the road that sells the best hot chocolate, you'll love it!" He said, grabbing my hand to bring me down the road. He wanted to get me hot chocolate?

"I don't have any money, Bill." He looked back at me and laughed.

"I'm buying, dummy. Why would I offer you something and then make you buy it? I'm not that awful." He joked, keeping my hand firmly in his. What. He wants to buy me something?

"You don't need to do that bill. I don't want to be a burden-" I sputtered out, not wanting him to do something he'd regret before he interrupted me.

"Burden?! You?" He stopped walking again and pulled me closer. Our faces were only a couple inches apart now and my hands were in his. "Y/n, you're my girlfriend. If I wanna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate I'm gonna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate, 'kay?" I was stunned. I don't understand why he's like this. He's too nice, people are gonna take advantage of that. Nevertheless, I nodded and walked down to where they were selling hot chocolate. Bill made sure to put extra marshmallows on mine. Why was he treating me like this?

We arrived back at his house and he pulled me down onto his bed with him.

"Jesus christ! Your hands are freezing, why didn't you say something." My hands? I guess they're cold. I hadn't noticed. Maybe they had gone numb half way through and that's why. Why did Bill care, they'd warm back up with time.

"It's no big deal Bill, I'll survive.." his eyes went wide like I had two heads.

"Are you insane?! No way!" He grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him. He rubbed his hands onto mine and wrapped mine tightly in his. "Can't have your fingers falling off. I need someone's hand to hold." I smiled at me and wrapped the blanket around me. I laid my head down on his pillow and closed my eyes. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to have a perfect boyfriend who gets me hot chocolate or warms up my hands for me. I don't deserve this. You don't deserve this. She was back again. She's always there. My mother sitting in the back of my head like there's a throne waiting there for her. Why were her words stuck in me like glue. I'm sick of her constantly belittling me like I'm nothing. But I am. I am nothing. Nothing at all. Just a useless soul that needed to fill an empty body and nothing mor-

"Y/n! Wake up! Are you okay?" Huh..? What was happening? I turned my head and looked outside. It was pitch black out. Had I fallen asleep? I turned back to bill and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. He had shaken me awake from my slumber. "Are. You. Okay?" He asked again, "you were mumbling and crying in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?" I was crying? My finger tips reached up towards my cheeks. They were wet. I guess I was crying.

"I'm fine, bill. It was nothing." I mumbled and laid back down. His mouth was slightly agape as he crawled closer to me and engulfed me into a hug. He laid kisses all over my face. Why? Why does he care?

"You're not fine, and it's okay to be not fine! Just tell me what's wrong and let me help you!" He said to me as both of his hands caressed my cheeks. Help..me? Like I'm some charity case that needs fixing? I didn't need to be fixed. Yeah maybe I'm not perfect to my mother and maybe I have some fucked up issues but I don't need to be fixed. What the fuck was his problem?! Doesn't he understand I'm perfectly fucking fine!

"I said, I'm fine!" I shouted at him, shoving bill away from me and pushing myself off the bed. I'm perfectly fine and I don't need him telling me what's wrong with me. His head hit the wall by his bed and I could hear a crack. I broke his wall. I don't care. That's his fault. He should've backed off.

I heard him calling out my name along with a couple cries in between. I pulled on my shoes and stormed out the door. I don't need him or anybody or anything! I don't need him treating me like I'm some child who can't control her emotions!

That was 2 weeks ago. I hadn't spoken or even looked at him in two weeks. What was wrong with me? I hurt the only boy who's ever loved me. He probably hates me now. I'm the worst girlfriend in the entire world. Im the stupidest person. You're the most dumb, ugly, disgusting daughter who has ever been seen on this earth.

she's back.

I'm fucked up in the head and I don't know how to fix it. I want to blame my mother and father but it's not their fault, right? They care about me. It's my fault I'm like this. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I have no one to blame but myself...right?

I was stuck sitting down in a chair while my mother poured goopy foundation onto my skin. We had to go to some classy town thing and I had to actually "look like a girl".

"Maybe if you were naturally beautiful I wouldn't have to waste my time doing this."

"Sorry mama..it's not my fault though..." She glared down at me and smacked the back of my head.

"You're lucky you have foundation on or I would've smacked the shit out of this disgusting face." She gritted between her teeth. Her words were like an awful, greasy poison dripping from her tongue. I hadn't done anything and some how I had made her mad again.

She shoved me into a long, cream colored dress and turned on the ignition. I leaned my head against the side of the door as we drove. Why couldn't I just be the normal, beautiful daughter my mother wanted? If there was a God, he had some serious explaining to do.

"Stop slouching! You think I want a daughter with bad posture?! My god! Can't you do anything right?" The speech. I've heard it a million times since I learned how to talk. How I can't do anything right and I'm just some failure who should've been aborted fifteen years ago. How I ruined my mother's life and how she was going to be a star if it wasn't for me.

It was a long car ride but we finally got there. And the event was even worse. There were so many people and the music was way to loud. I felt like crying. My hands were shaking and I couldn't stop picking at my nails. Women kept coming up and taking to me with their children. Friends of my mothers. I could guess by their judging stares. I looked lady-like and had good posture and was smiling. Why was I being judged, what am I doing wrong again? Why can't I just be normal? A normal girl who doesn't fuck everything up. Doesn't make her parents hate her. Doesn't ruin her parents lives. Doesn't make people feel awkward. Doesn't hurt their boyfriends.

And that was my breaking point. Tears flooded down my cheeks and everybody was staring at me. I stumbled away into another room and sobbed on the floor. I couldn't breathe. My hands hurt from picking at my nails and my face hurt and my body hurt and my eyes were burning and my makeup was surely ruined.

Everything is. I always ruin everything. What the fuck is wrong with me?! The one person who truly cared about me...i..I haven't- I hiccups against the wall and bawled my eyes out. The one person who truly, actually cared about me...I haven't talked to him in two weeks. Then I caught my breath. I stood up and wobbled to the nearest window. I pulled myself out of it and stumbled outside. My whole body hurt so I probably ooked crazy. I could feel mascara was running down my cheeks as I walked through the town.

My arms were freezing cold and I still felt like everybody was watching me. Their beady and judgy eyes staring me down like I was about to go crazy. Well, I guess technically they were right. I just started sobbing in front of everybody so I probably did look insane. You looked insane! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can't you just act like a girl for once!? That's what my mother said me to in the 3rd grade after a play we did..

I finally got back to my house and looked up to the neighbour's house. Bills house. The light was on in his bedroom. He was awake. I turned back to my door and took a deep breath. I had to say something to him. Right? I had to make him believe I wasn't some crazy person who would push everybody away. Maybe that's what I was though..

I knocked on the door but nobody answered, so I stepped into their house. It was completely dark as I stumbled up the stairs to bills room. I looked at all the happy family pictures they had. God they were so lucky. So lucky to have a perfect family. A father and mother who love them. Having a twin must be great, it's like having a bestfriend for life, right?

As I stepped up the stairs I heard the door open. Bill must've heard me coming up. When he slowly looked around the corner I saw his eyes widen at my awful state. I guess I should've cleaned myself up first, I look a mess. My dress was torn from crawling out the window and my makeup was obviously smeared. I bet my hair wasn't too pretty either.

"Holy shit, y/n?!" He came down the stairs quickly and grabbed my arms, helping me up the stairs, "what happened?! You look...awful."

He sat me down on his bed and I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him. This perfect guy who loves me. I tried to open my mouth and say something but nothing came out. I guess he could tell I wasn't sure what to say because he went to the bathroom and grabbed some wipes.

"Here.." he kneeled down and began to wipe my makeup off. Tears slipped past my waterline as he comforted me. He just sat there looking up at me with a pity smile on his face as he cleaned me up. He took of my hands in his other hand and held it. He really was perfect. He saw him grab some lotion off his desk and rub it around my face after he wiped everything off.

"Come on, why don't we get you into some comfortable clothes okay?" I nodded at him and toyed with my fingers as he picked out some clothes.

I was laying in his arms now. His fingers were combing though my hair as I laid on his chest. I wasn't sure why he was doing this. Any sane person would've just kicked me out, right? I held onto bill tighter whenever he kissed my head and my cheeks. I cuddled up closer to him and nuzzled into his neck.

"I love you, y/n.." bill whispered as I dosed off into my sleep, breathing in his comforting scent and letting tears fall on his skin because he was the only person who was able to make me feel at home.

OKAY THIS TOOK ME LIKE 2 HOURS AND IT ALMOST GOT DELETED BUT THANK GOD IT DIDNT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!

the end felt kinda rushed but I hope it was still good

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam

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nessabarrettswhore · 2 months ago

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༄༉‧₊˚..☘︎ ݁˖ 𝒟𝒜𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒩𝒢, 𝐼. . .

in which.. soft!chris and sweet!reader meet for the first time.

includes ; intended lowercase , swearing , fluff ?

monday mornings. the worst day of the week — no argument. i mean, who wakes up and chooses to be happy on a monday? nobody that you know of, that’s for sure. the only great thing about the monday morning right now, is the fact you’re outfit looks great. perfect even.

the outfit is a pink, frilly skirt with a white corset. it’s complimented with lacy thigh high socks, pink bows in your hair, and a silk choker around your neck. the charm in the middle has the initial of your mom, the gesture being a cute reminder of how much that woman appreciates you. your makeup was light, the blush drawing most of the attention. the clean girl routine you kept was so pretty, always received compliments for that shit. people adored you and your makeup, considering the reputation you held in your collage. you were known as a respectful person, with a great attitude and manners towards others. basically, the perfect person in their eyes.

this monday was no different, your free period being next. it was a reminder that you could leave this hellhole for a moment, catch some fresh air and grab a coffee — as long as you signed yourself back in. that was everyone’s biggest fear, not signing yourself in and out, then getting into trouble. luckily, that hadn’t happened to you at all.

when you had signed yourself out, you grabbed your little lanyard on the way out and tucked it into the side of your skirt so it wasn’t in the way. it was always so annoying, the stupid plastic wrapped around your neck — ruining the outfit completely. that’s why you just started tucking it somewhere in your outfit, still visible, barely.

the walk to the coffee shop was short, but calming. the crisp air of the spring morning was refreshing, allowing you to enjoy the tranquility of the moment. there were rarely days like this, so in your eyes it was a sign this day would go very well. the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and it wasn’t even cold! if it wasn’t monday, it could be considered the perfect day in your eyes.

when she entered the small, comfy cafe, the lady at the counter greeted you with a welcoming smile, recognizing you from the multiple times you came here. it was sweet really, a gesture that not many people would care about.. but you? you cared. it was cute, knowing people cared enough to recognize you, and be kind at that. “your regular?” the girl asked, tilting her head to the side.

with a nod, you respond, voice ever so sweet and gentle. “yes, please! how’s the morning going so far?” you ask, the question earning a sigh from the woman in front of you.

“awful — i mean, the people that have entered are either rude, snobby or just demanding. it’s tiring, but you’ve just made my day so much better! how’s school going for you, sweetheart?” she explains, her tone changing as she speaks the last words. the lady was always kind to you, so that’s a plus.

you shake your head, baby pink nails tapping on the counter as she begins preparing the drink for you. “i’m so sorry to hear that, but i’m glad to make your day better! school’s been awesome, photography is going great. i’m actually working on a project right n—“ a light shove cuts you off, jolting you a little into the counter.

the stranger immediately looks back, a guilty look on his face. “oh shit— i’m so sorry. didn’t mean to hit ya’ then.” he apologized, a light smile on his face. he was dressed in a baby blue hoodie — one that caught your attention immediately. he paired it with some baggy jeans, the ones you tend to see in the local thrift store. his sneakers matched the outfit, making your little mind happy. good, at least he knows how to style an outfit.

you fixate on his hair, the messy brown curls moving slightly at the wind of the open door. “uh— it’s okay, no need to apologize! m’bad if i was in the way.” your voice lightens, a grin on your face as his eyes meet yours. you’ve never seen him before, which is weird considering you knew basically everyone around.

“i’m just clumsy, y’weren’t in the way. i like the outfit by the way, we’re kinda matching. got some fuckin’ cotton candy stuff goin’ on.” the boy chuckles, gesturing to the outfit you had on. most people complimented your style, however this felt different.

“thank you! and yeah, we’re matching. that’s so cool! i love your hoodie, fresh love? that’s a nice name.” you speak, the smile still absolutely smeared across your lips. it’s like you’ve just fallen in love again. with a stranger.

he nods, running his eyes up and down your body. his eyes linger on your chest, then your waist, back up to your chest then finally your eyes. damn, it’s like he thought you wouldn’t notice. “y—yeah.” he brings his eyes back over your outfit again, shamelessly this time. “my name’s chris, by the way. your’s?”

you laugh slightly, watching his eyes move all over your body. “nevaeh.”

“nevaeh.” he repeats, clicking his tongue. “pretty name. suits you, y’know?” chris compliments, landing — and keeping his eyes on yours. his boston accent was thick, making him sound cute pronouncing your name.

you blush, thanking the makeup for covering it up. “t- thanks. you from around here?” you ask, trying to switch up the conversation, turning slightly to see the lady finishing your coffee.

“ah, no. i’m from boston, but we came to los angeles to see some shit. like- family business i think? don’t ask me, i dunno any-fucking-thing.” he sighs, bringing the glass bottle of pepsi to his lips.

you hum, watching him take a drink. fuck, his lips look so kissable. “uh-huh. i could tell, the boston accent pretty strong then?” a small giggle leaves your lips, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“what? it’s not that funny.” chris smiles, swashing the drink around his mouth and swallowing, his adam’s apple bopping as the drink travelled down his throat. that was pretty hot actually.

“nothing, nothing. uh- my drink’s ready.” you shrug, turning around and grabbing the drink lightly from her hands. “thank you.” you say, moving the hair out of your face and taking a sip. you pull out your card from your purse, pressing it against the card reader.

chris leans back against the wall, waiting for you to finish. once you do, he takes a step towards you. “what drink did y’get? it’s pink.” the boy comments, screwing his face up at the pink liquid in your hands.

“it’s a pink drink, actually.” you correct him, your tone playful, teasing him. of course he’s just gonna say, ‘i know.’ you’ve had that before. most people think you’re taking the piss, but that’s the actual name! their just stupid.

instead of the usual comment, he licks his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side as the both of you start walking out. “can i try some?” he asks.

normally you would say no, as sharing drinks is either weird, or flirting in your eyes. it was gross, and you can get germs from that! you don’t know what he’s done with that mouth, do you? however, this time was different. you were starting to like this stranger, chris. so you simply said, “sure.” and handed him the drink.

he took a sip, wiping the straw afterwards and handing it back to you, he wiped his lips too, swallowing the drink. “that shit is great, kid. pink drink, right?”

“i know! best drink i’ve ever had, no doubt.” you agree, taking your own sip of the drink. “pepsi y’thing then?” you question, jerking your head towards the delicate glass bottle in his hands.

he nodded, swishing it around. “yep. best drink i’ve ever had, no doubt.” chris laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips again. he was funny, using your own words as a joke. yeah, you could totally see yourself being friends with him.

“cool, cool.” you reply casually, meeting his eyes again. “earlier you said ‘we came to los angeles.’ who were you talking about? your parents?”

he grins, shaking his head. “nope, they’re back in boston. i’m talking about my triplet brothers — nick and matt. y’remind me of matt, actually.” the boy explained, taking a swig of his drink.

“triplets? holy— that’s sick! I assume matt’s the quiet one then? i mean, i’m pretty quiet.” your eyes widen, taking in the words coming out of his mouth. twins is one thing, but triplets? you’ve never met a triplet before, so this was cool!

he nods, shrugging his shoulders casually. “pretty much, yeah. nick’s the chatty one, who never shuts the fuck up. he’s also the oldest one, shockingly. matt’s a bit quiet, but he’s like actually the most mature one out of us three.” chris rambled, the sun shining on his head, making his brown locks stand out. “i’m the youngest. by a few minutes.”

“dammnn..” you whistle, adjusting a bow that almost fell out your hair. “i like people like nick though, people who don’t shut up are mostly funny humans. shocking that you’re the youngest. i mean— don’t take this the wrong way but you look mature, so..”

his eyes fall onto you as you play with your hair, the bow flopping around, making you look childish. “i’m 21. people say i look pretty young though, which is weird. I’ll take yours as a compliment though, i don’t want to look young forever.” he chuckles.

“21? wait! we’re like, two years apart. I’m 19.” you smile, removing your hands from your hair as the bow fixes itself and goes back to it’s original spot. “i don’t think y’look young. i mean— the boys in my university look like babies.”

“you go to university? that’s cool. i didn’t expect you to be nineteen actually, i was pretty scared you were like— young. thank god you aren’t.” he jokes, laughing.

nevaeh raises an eyebrow. “you don’t go to university? that’s different.” the girl comments, not in a rude way, but more intrigued than anything. she laughs at his comment, shaking her head.

“yea— i do social media. nothing special though.” he speaks nonchalantly, hiding the fact he had 7 million subscribers on his youtube with his brothers. “i’m jus’ a beginner, y’know?” he adds, making him sound super new to all this stuff.

you tilt her head to the side, furrowing her brows. “lies. you sound like you’re lying!” you jab your finger into his chest, looking up at him.

“n— fine.” he groans, removing her finger from his chest lightly. “i might have a lot of subscribers.” he admits, defeat in his eyes. “like— seven million.”

you steps back a little bit, gasping, her jaw dropping. “seven million?” you whisper yells, not wanting to draw attention to the pair. “you’re cool, i like you.” you grin, shaking your head, the bouncy hair from your head moving around.

“but like— don’t tell anyone. m’supposed to be meeting with my brothers right now.” he whispers, stepping towards you again.

when he mentions meeting his brothers, you check the time on your phone and your face darkens. CLASS! “holy fuck— i need to go. like.. right now.”

“class? come on, i’ll take you.” he chuckles, watching you stress over a silly class. chris steps closer towards you, putting a hand on your back and moving you with him. “don’t wanna be late, huh?”

you blush — again. the feeling of his hands on you bring you a slight.. hope? hope that maybe you actually can be friends, although you’re still freaking out he just casually dropped that he’s a famous youtuber. “i- yeah.. um, okay. can you be quick though?”

the two move quickly, walking at a fast pace. chris’s hand remains on your back the whole time — keeping you in place beside him. it’s like he didn’t want to let go, because he’d loose you forever. he’s never fallen in love, never wanted to. okay — he’d see lots of pretty girls all the time, but this was different. be could feel himself falling in love with a stranger he’d just met like 25 minutes ago.

once you two arrive at your university entrance, he immediately brings you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist. it’s like he’d been waiting for this moment ever since he laid his eyes on your waist.

“bye, stranger.” you mumble into his neck, adjusting to the body pressed against you. it was weird, it was just so all of a sudden. super weird. however, you weren’t complaining.

“bye, nevaeh.”

shit. you keep falling in love.

maisiespeaks : sooo.. this is my first fic please lmk if this is shit, i just don’t feel comfy writing smut. also this felt like 10 years writing this haha 😭. should i make a taglist or something??

divider credits to the lovely @dollywons 🤍.

#maisieyaps ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nessa barrett #sturniolo smut #fluff #meeting #christopher sturniolo #fanfiction recommendation #𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓼𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓼˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚#★𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓼𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮★

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