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jinwoosbabyboo · 6 months ago

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In My Little Black Dress

The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter

‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️

Zayne ♡

Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.

"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.

Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"

"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.

He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.

Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.

"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"

"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.

He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"

His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.

You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.

Rafayel ♡

Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.

Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.

He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"

"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.

"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"

"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.

He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.

Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.

"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"

Xavier ♡

Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.

Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.

"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.

"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"

Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.

Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.

Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"

"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"

Sylus ♡

Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.

Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.

The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.

Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.

"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with your fist to keep from making noise.

"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"

He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.

Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"

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sunni-stuff · 3 months ago

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People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives.

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper.

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for.

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation.

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands.

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you.

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination. “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #we meet again

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averagewriter-inthedark · 6 months ago

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The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Imagine

Set during the events of Twilight (2008)

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 3.5k

requested 📥 yes/no

Premise: When Edward introduces Bella to his family after weeks of avoiding the inevitable, there was no telling how it was going to go down. Of course, what does one expect when they bring their girlfriend over for the first time…. except it's to a family of animal blood-sucking vampires who's lives each deserve a biography of their own. Bella felt the pressure of making a great impression, but the nerves seemed to heighten in regard to meeting the woman responsible for raising Edward throughout his undead life. The woman whose soul was bonded to none other than the Cullen patriarch.

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Over a hundred years walking the Earth and Edward still experienced the universal feeling of cringe and embarrassment. This time, at the hands of none other than his family as he introduced him to the girl who’d captured his undead heart and made it hard for Edward to stay away.

“Alright, um,” he swallowed, placing a gentle hand on Bella’s back to nudge her in the direction of the staircase. Away from the prying eyes of his siblings and Carlisle after Alice had to say, ‘Oh, you do smell good,’ and Jasper was literally fighting for his life to keep it together. “Where’s Y/n?”

“In her studio,” Carlisle replied with a smile, the mention of his wife bringing a warmth to his chest. “She’s working on a project and can definitely use a break. She’s been excited to meet Bella since you mentioned bringing her over.”

Bella blushed, the nerves resurfacing at meeting another member of the Cullen family. The matriarch at that. Edward’s adoptive mother and Carlisle’s wife.

“Thanks,” Edward turned on his heel, leading Bella in the opposite direction. Mumbling a short goodbye, she followed the vampire down the corridor, past the staircase and a living space before stopping in front of a wooden door.

Before he knocked, Edward put a comforting hand on Bella’s shoulder, “Calm down,” his teeth sparkled against the light, eyes teasing. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“Sorry,” she flushed again, cursing at herself. She didn’t understand why she was so nervous to meet Y/n. More so than the rest of his family. Maybe it was because Edward spoke so highly of her. Maybe it was because she saw the way Carlisle lit up at the mere mention of her name. Or how the townspeople praised Y/n, even if they only had one interaction.

Edward went to knock, but this time was interrupted by a voice calling out from the other side, “Come in!” Smiling, he pushed open the door, revealing a large room in what only could be described as an organized disarray.

Bella’s jaw slightly dropped, taking in the scene before her. Eyes first darting to the high ceilings with a drop-down chandelier. Though it wasn’t on, thanks to the natural light provided by the left side of the room with floor to ceiling windows where a wall should’ve been. A beautiful, perfect view of the forest surrounding the home.

The walls were painted a rusted burnt red, the kind you see in art museums. Floors made of the finest dark wood, with one area covered by plastic reserved for protecting it by the paint cans laying on top, beside an easel holding a large canvas. A very large, vintage clock took the center of the wall connected to the window, surrounded by pieces ranging from old signs to shelves holding books and plants.

On the main wall parallel to the windows, a map of the world hung, flanked by art pieces. Portraits, landscape. Various mediums of pencil, oils, and acrylic. A phone straight from the 1930s mounted above a small table covered by messy stacks of paper. Bella’s eyes drew to a woven basket that came probably to her waist, filled with pieces of rolled parchment. A few laid on the ground. A foot away from it was a cart holding art supplies.

Finally, Bella’s gaze landed on the figure in the center of the room. Y/n sat on a wooden stool, her posture perfect, hand scribbling across a large piece of parchment placed on the wooden desk facing the windows. The desk was the type that propped up, a lamp attached to the corner, and side table. Something an artist or engineer invested in.

“I thought I heard the raging pump of a heartbeat approaching.” Bella squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, letting out a small groan. Opening them when she heard the skid of the stool against the floor.

“Y/n,” Edward scolded, tone playful.

“Apologies, I couldn’t help myself,” Y/n chuckled, approaching the two with a wide smile. Bella held her breath, admiring the woman before her. Alice may have been the fashion girlie of the family, but there was no denying who she must’ve gotten it from.

Y/n made even the simplest of clothing look ethereal. White blouse tucked into beige trousers, brown belt with hints of gold, paired with stunning white heeled boots. The necklaces she wore were layered, the longest of which had several charms making them clink together, bracelets covering her wrists, three rings on each hand, and gold hoops. A multicolor scarf consisting of warm tones like red, orange, and yellow tied around her hair. Then of course, her eyes were melting gold.

She was the picture of an artist.

Upon closer inspection, Bella had to hold back a whistle at the ring reserved for her left ring finger. Carlisle sure had taste and made sure his lady got what she deserved. That was no ring. That was a rock.

“You must be the famous Bella,” Y/n’s hand shot out, Bella hesitating a moment before taking it. Y/n’s handshake was soft yet firm at the same time. Bringing a chill to Bella as their skin met. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you,” letting go of her hand, Y/n brought both of hers up to make a gesture. “I have been begging Edward to bring you around for weeks. I don’t know why it’s taken him so long,” a playful glare was directed at him.

Edward rolled his eyes, then put an arm around Bella. “Bella, this is Y/n. My mother for all intents and purposes. Artist, architect, and occasional therapist to all of us emotionally stunted immortal teenagers.”

“You said it, not me,” Y/n smirked, hands raised again.

Bella laughed, comforted by Edwards touch as she regarded Y/n. “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/n. Edward talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, correct?”

“Of course,” Bella assured, nudging Edward who had scoffed. “He mentioned you designed this house--it’s absolutely beautiful. And this--,” motioning to the space, Bella was again in awe of Y/n’s studio. It’s like she was walking through an exhibit in the Louvre. “Wow.”

“When I made the blueprints for this house, I wanted everyone to have a place--plus everyone was vocal about what they wanted,” she teases with a grin. “Carlisle has his study, Alice her closets, Rosalie wished for a garage, Jasper desired a library, Emmett a game room, Edward got his music room. And me,” a hand waves to the room with pride. “My studio.”

Bella raised an intrigued brow, aimed at Edward, “you have a music room?”

Had he been human, Edward would have blushed. He brushed it off with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s just where I keep a few instruments. I’ll show you as we go through the house.”

“A few,” Y/n lightly scoffed, earning a small glare from the boy.

“Carlisle said you’re working on a project,” he changed the subject, nudging his head toward the desk. Catching sight of the blueprints that were in the early draft stages.

“The high school plans to renovate the library, so they’ve asked me to go over some plans and designs. They were pleased with my work for the gym last year.”

Edward turns to Bella, “Y/n has the magic touch for designing and constructing. And because we’ve had the time to redo college over and over again….” They share a laugh, “she’s got degrees in art, engineering, design, and business on top of her architecture education.”

The woman simply shrugs, “I like to keep busy. Who wouldn't want to take advantage of obtaining all the world’s knowledge when you have eternity.” If she saw the pointed look Edward was giving her, Y/n ignored it.

“Anyway,” He sighed, returning his attention to Bella, “The town comes to her for consultations. And, in most cases than often, she designs and oversees the build.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Bella awed, past Edward’s shoulder she spotted the white construction worker's hat. Propped beside a coat hanger possessing a pair of overalls, scarves, and painters' boots. “Did you-,” her finger pointed to the display of artwork, “paint all those?”

“Several, yes,” Y/n motioned them to follow her, moving closer to the wall. “This one you might have guessed is the view of the forest from this room. The first one I did when we moved here. But not all are recent, some I did in the 90s--,” she pointed to a canvas framed with gold trimming near the top. Depicting an image of inside a medical tent, “That one is from when I volunteered for the Army Nurses Corps.”

Bella’s eyes bulged, glancing between Y/n and Edward. “You--you served during the War?”

Y/n nodded, expression now solemn, “First World War. We were living in Virginia at the time and therefore injured soldiers coming back from Europe docked at the bases there first. Carlisle was the trauma surgeon, and I was a nurse.” Her boots echoed against the wood as they strolled down. “We stayed there the duration of the war before settling in Chicago….”

“How long before he wakes up?”

“Not long,” Carlisle kept his eyes on the unconscious boy while his wife paced behind him. Had they been able to sweat they would’ve been drenched. “The venom transferred from his neck. The closest I could get to his heart--it should take less than a day.”

Y/n ran a hand through her neatly styled hair in distress. They’d only been in Chicago a few months. Arriving when the War ended and immediately joining the effort to combat the Spanish Influenza spreading through the population. With their current predicament, there was no way they could stay.

Ripping the nurses cap off, she asked, “What’s our next move then? We can’t stay here. This city is an endless potluck of people, and we don’t know how strong his urges will be,” she stopped pacing, coming beside her husband with a pleading gaze. “I know you said his parents are dead, but that doesn't mean he may not have family who’ll come looking for him. What kind of people are we to rip him from the ones who love him?” Upon the look she received, Y/n dropped her head, “Unless you mean to fake his death.”

Carlisle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The boy had the influenza. They saw his condition--it was deteriorating. They’ll believe it took him in the night and his body was sent to the incinerators. Just like the others.”

Y/n sniffed, eyes welling with unshed tears. “I know, but…” she trailed off, “He’s a kid, Carlisle. We agreed that when it came time for us to save someone from death, it would not mean robbing them of their life--.”

“He was dying, Y/n,” his tone was firm, yet gentle. “I promised his mother we’d look after him.” Eyes flicker to Edward, then back to Y/n. While Carlisle hated himself for what he’d done, there was no going back now. “He’s our responsibility now. We’ve to teach him the ways of this life and make sure he copes with it. Not succumb to the darkness like we did.”

Another sound left her, Y/n taking a moment to process before nodding. “Okay,” she whispered, keeping her voice steady. “We take this day-by-day.”

“Day-by-day.”

“That’s when Edward….” Bella trailed, biting her lip when she realized it wasn’t the best idea to bring it up. Yet, she was surprised both the vampires nodded, understanding her implication. Instead, she said, “He mentioned you’ve been with Carlisle the longest….”

Like earlier with the doctor, Y/n visibly brightened at each time his name was said. “Will be two hundred years this fall.”

“Two--two hundred??” The human spluttered. Edward had failed to tell her that information. Only saying the two had been together long before Carlisle saved him.

Chuckling at Bella’s reaction, Y/n tucked a piece of stray hair back in its place. “The vampire who bit me didn’t stick around. Abandoning me. A few days later of endless wonder and unable to control my newfound appetite, Carlisle found me.” Her smile was so wide, bright white teeth bouncing off light. “It’s been quite a life ever since.”

They spent the next few minutes learning about the history of each painting. From the oil masterpiece of the New York Skyline to the charcoal portrait of Joan of Arc. Bella took time to admire the watercolor image of Carlisle. Donned in his white coat, hair and posture perfect.

“Ah yes,” Y/n hummed, beaming up at the canvas. “My personal favorite. Though I’m a little biased given the muse of this piece happens to be the muse of my soul.”

“Stay still.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not,” Y/n berated, dipping the brush back into the golden color before continuing to paint Carlisle’s hair. “I know this is time consuming, darling, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

“In my defense,” his hand raised, quickly putting it back in his lap when she groaned, “I’ve never technically sat for a portrait. The ones from Volterra were done while I wasn’t aware they were being painted.” A grimace took his features, remembering his time with the Volturi. “Aro preferred moments to be captured as they were happening in real time.”

Y/n threw him a look, shaking her head in the process. “Yeah, he seems like the type.”

“First and last time he got to play model,” she laughed at the memory. “Thanks to the creation of the camera I could develop a photograph and wallah!” her hands made a gesture, “A still image to use as reference. And now with cell phones….I don’t even have to put in the work to develop the photo. It’s right there!”

Initially Bella found her reaction to a camera phone a little odd. But then remembered Y/n was a 200+ year old vampire and literally witnessed the development and advancement of technology.

“But I don’t always create,” Y/n winked, stopping in front of a stunning work of a lily pond. “Sometimes I collect.”

Stepping closer, Bella inspected the art, finger on her lip as her brows furrowed in concentration. She’d seen it before. The familiarity of it was driving her brain into overdrive. Then it hit her, breath hitching, “Is that…A Monet?” Her confirmation nod made Bella nearly choke on her saliva. “How--?”

“Being alive 226 years and getting the privilege of traveling anywhere means I’ve had the pleasure of meeting interesting people,” her smirk was the type a movie villain showed that made the audience fall in love with them and brush away the fact they were a villain. A captivating sight. “One of those people happened to be Claude Monet during our time in France. Our shared love for art and nature brought a great friendship. I was actually with him when he painted this,” she casually said, aware of Bella’s astonished reaction despite her eyes trained on the canvas. “Unfortunately, Carlisle and I left before I got to see him finish. After he died several of his paintings went to museums or auctioned off. I made sure to acquire this one--took me about three years to find.”

After a moment of gawking, Bella gathered herself and moved onto the next piece. It really felt like they were in an art museum. Soon they came to the end of the gallery.

“You’re incredibly talented,” Bella praised, unable to take her attention off the marble sculpture enclosed in a glass case by the small bookshelf.

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally have someone to show this all too. Instead of just me admiring it daily.” Y/n put her hands in pockets, “Now I hate to kick you out, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline to beat,” Y/n led them to the door, “and I’ll let you get back to your tour of the house. It was lovely to meet you, Bella, and please don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you.”

“I really appreciate it,” Bella smiled, standing beside Edward in the doorway, “It was great meeting you too.” A wave of a goodbye and promise to visit again, Y/n watched Edward escort his girlfriend up the staircase to the second floor. Leaning against the side, Y/n touched a finger to her lips, not bothering to hide the giant grin surfacing.

“I know that look.”

Despite speaking after Bella and Edward disappeared, Y/n felt Carlisle’s presence the second he breached the corridor. Not to mention the tingling sensation at the base of her spine.

Slowly turning to face him, her smile widened, and Carlisle saw the way her golden hues sparkled when he approached. “And what exactly is that look?”

“The one where you’re overcome with happiness unable to be measured with how much it consumes you.”

Hands took hold of her shoulders, gently brushing down until they reached her own, Y/n leaning into his touch, voice teasing, “What mother would I be to not be overjoyed for her son and the wonderful girlfriend he’s brought home?”

Carlisle chuckled, tilting his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. The floral aroma of her Marc Jacobs perfume amplified her already sweet scent. Oh, how addicted he was to her scent. It was like walking through a garden of the most beautiful flowers on Earth.

“You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, tapping his chest to scold him, “Not much more than you lot. He was practically dragging Bella out of the kitchen.” Carlisle raised his hands in defense, making her raise a brow.

“That was all the kids. I’m innocent, my dear, you must believe me.”

She tsked, “Well, at least you didn’t scare the poor girl like Rosalie and Jasper. And as much as I love Alice’s excitement, you might want to tell her to take it down a notch,” Y/n made a face, “I thought we all agreed last night not to bring up Bella’s scent.”

She was met with a sigh, her sculptured-God of a husband dropping his head onto her shoulder in defeat. “What was I supposed to do? You left me to fend for myself.”

Laughing, Y/n reached her arms around his shoulders, encasing him in an embrace to which he greatly accepted. “I’m sorry, my love. Will you forgive me? I promise to find you the finest stag in all of Washington for you to feast upon.” Instantly his head shot up, moving it so their noses brushed against each other.

“That’ll do.” Their lips met, igniting fireworks throughout their bodies as it always had for 200 years. Never once losing the feeling.

They’d seen everything in the course of their century's long life. Several wars. Epidemics. The fall of countries and rise of new ones. Medicine advancing, technology overtaking man. The race to space and the rebirth of the Olympic Games.

Met people who’d changed the world. Witnessed humanity evolve--and sometimes wondered how the hell it could be so stupid. But overall, they were the stagnant figures in their plane of existence. Time moving, they remained still.

And yet, somehow, they were able to find a family after all.

When they pulled apart, their expressions of love remained. “God,” she hummed, “That never gets old.”

“Just like the first time?” He chafed, gold eyes glimmering.

Y/n pretending to think, lips pouting, “Less nervous,” a squeal escaped her at the feeling of his fingers tickling her ribcage. Shoving him away, the woman chided, “Get back to the hospital old man. There are patients to be seen, and I have a deadline to finish.” The gasp that left him made her grin.

“Old?! I’ll have you know that if I’m old then that means you are---.”

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” her finger pointed at his chest, “otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch.” Carlisle smirked, entering her personal space once again.

“I can’t sleep. Neither can you.”

“Damn,” she exhaled, feigning defeat when really, she was becoming more invested with their little game. “You’re right.” Then her eyes turned dark, sinister. Face consorting to a look that made Carlisle shudder.

A look he’d seen hundreds of times, and not once did not bring a chill to his already cold body. Enough to bring his heart back to life. Enough to send the frozen blood down to his spine.

“Guess we’ll have to find another way to pass the time.”

#carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen fanfiction #carlisle cullen fluff #twilight fluff #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #edward cullen x reader #bella swan imagine #Spotify

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lockpickingliar · 2 days ago

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THIS ON GOD.

It makes me so mad that some people are out here lauding the ending of V3 as genuinely good rhetoric, or otherwise writing off people who were dissatisfied with it as missing the point or just hating to hate. Like I don't think V3 was a bad game! It was a very good game! I'm Kokichi Ouma for god's sake.

BUT IT WAS ALSO A BAD GAME.

V3's Chapter 6 spits in the face of literally all the previous series' themes of punitive and restorative justice to reduce it to a flanderized mockery of Despairpilled cash-grabbing. As a result, it feels like a lot of the fandom falls into this pit of refusing the engage with the wider nuances of what the work is trying to say as a piece of art. It takes on this reductive view that Danganronpa is edgy and cringe and people for some reason seem embarrassed to like it? And because of this, a lot of the actual thought-provoking discussion that could be had about the moral grayness of action versus intention? The concept of examining people as people first and what that means when people do bad things? The grisly aspects of humanity and the slippery slope one can fall down when society fails to uphold their own humanity? Dead in the water.

Doyalistically, V3 was a very tragic victim of executive meddling, in my opinion. They dropped the ball on so many things, and Lock's partner Komaeda-chan (@irlkomaedanagito) hypothesizes this was mostly because Spike Chunsoft was pushing undue focus on overdeveloping UTDP as a soft release for Danganronpa S, leaving less time for the team to properly dig into the themes of the main game's story. I personally agree with this notion. Not to mention I feel like it would have made a much better take to have turned the scrutiny on Team Danganronpa as the corporation profiting off of the Tragedy and Despair craze in the first place and subjecting these people to such horrors. I doubt Spike Chunsoft would have really liked the implications of that, though, so they turned it onto the fandom instead.

The concept of corporate greed and the romanticizing of very real Tragedy and Despair for views from the lens of Team Danganronpa profiting off the history of the Tragedy and historic killing games would have been INFINITELY more compelling to me as a player, and why a lot of my AUs center around a post-Tragedy world with a corporate interest in appealing to the morbid curiosity of a world who traumabonded over the broadcasted deaths of the once-shining youth. It keeps those themes of the past games alive and examines the commodification of Talent and Hope and Despair without vilifying you for the audacity of wanting to examine the deeper themes of the art.

It's ART. Kodaka HAD SOMETHING TO SAY with these games. Every single facet of them. And I'm just so tired of the dismissal of that to avoid scrutinizing the uncomfortable aspects of the series. An "it's not that deep" in favor of silly goofs and gaffs and memes.

You can have the memes and still engage with the deeper nuances of the text! I PROMISE you that you can have both! PLEASE!!!

I think people misunderstand what some of us dislike about the ending of Danganronpa V3.

At least for me, there are two key points that I dislike:

1. The way that, intentional or not, the game villainizes YOU for enjoying the franchise.

The way the game portrays it does not, to me, come across like it is just villainizing the folks in the “real world” of V3. It really does act like YOU are the villain for enjoying this fictional killing game. It feels like a middle finger from the writers to the people who really love the series they created.

2. The way it retcons the other two games into being in-universe games.

“V3 is an alternate universe” aside, I don’t like that it decided to make THH, GD, UDG- everything- fictional games. That also feels like a slap in the face, at least to me. I think something similar could be accomplished just by having this take place years and years and years after those games.

This is coming from someone who does very much enjoy Danganronpa V3, trials and all. I am very critical of it, but I genuinely think that so much of it is genuinely fantastic. Which is why chapter six as a whole bums me out so much :(

#Personally I headcanon drv3 was like 10 years after thh and dangan sort of rode high on the popularity and impact of it #<- prev we are sharing a mind thank you #this is PARTICULARLY egregious with the rivals/antagonists #Komaeda and Ouma in particular #also I'm gonna say it but the thing I hate most about V3's ending is that it is straight up anti rhetoric #and so it became and excuse to antify the fandom as it is today #I am just so tired #so so tired #it genuinely upsets me so much because it feels like I don't have the space in the fandom to actually dig into things like I want to #touch all the uncomfortable things that I know a majority of the greater more popular circles of the fandom with hate #because it's squicky as hell to reconcile the actual reality and gravity of these themes #when you acknowledge that they are very real things that happen #and not your safe romanticized pink blooded popcorn gore #let me engage with the art #let me pry open the wound and stick a flashlight inside the guts of society #if it's not that deep I will MAKE it that deep #ultimate ennuist

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