Requested by @kayleedeangaga: “I just wanna say that you are an amazing writer and when you get your wifi back, I would like to request a James Patrick March Smut”
A/N: Credit for the “plot” idea goes to @ahswitchy – This will sound really dumb, and I’m sorry ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)…What about John bringing daddy March a very odd gift, in a big box and wrapped up nicely. So when daddy opens it, it’s the reader/OC sorta terrified and tied up, so he shows her that he can be nice? 👀; I apologize if this isn’t well written or if you aren’t a fan of the third person perspective.
Title credit: “Gods & Monsters” by Lana Del Rey
No one ever wished for a life of mediocrity. That was never someone’s aspiration. Unfortunately, it was what a lot of people received despite their hardest efforts to make something of and for themselves. It was just a turn that happened for some, no matter what their aspirations had been and how earnestly they had worked to achieve them.
When Judith had dreamed of coming to Los Angeles, she’d dreamed of making something of herself. She’d dreamed of becoming an actress or a model. Her name was going to be plastered across television screens and magazines. People were going to know her.
But, as with most of those “shoot for the stars" aspirations, that dream had shattered around her like delicate crystal. Now she was forced to channel that effort into the life of servitude she’d been forced to fulfill, changing strangers’ bed sheets and cleaning their toilets.
My Type is Homicidal 