#i feel like a horrible person and so ungrateful for saying that

[scarletcomet]

ngl besties but i am not doing so great right now. anyone else not able to function because of constant thoughts of hurting yourself and crushing depression?

[nomairuins]

wtvr. i ate some crepes

[hecksupremechips]

Ooooooghhhhhhhhh stressed 🥺

[ghostprinceiii]

As soon as I get home I am never leaving my house again.

[awomanswrath]

Vent lol

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 7

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlist

Breakfast is a quiet affair. You're still trying to get your head around your strange husband. He feels like a walking contradiction. Angry, but apologetic and seemingly caring. You weren't too hurt to notice how strong his arms are as he moved you to the sink. He looked so stern and serious that, combined with the unexpected touch, you were certain he was going to lose his temper at you. Instead, he apologized.

"This food is so good," Jake comments. You realize he's already eaten most of his plate! "You're such a good cook. Where'd you learn how?"

You flinch a little at the question. "You're going to think I'm a horrible person," you preface. "The kitchen was one of the few rooms in the house my family never went to so I asked some of the staff to teach me cooking so I'd have an excuse to stay in there." You stop eating, waiting for him to tell you how horribly ungrateful you are to your family.

"That's smart," Jake nods. You look up at him, but he seems sincere. "What? You needed to get away from time to time and, while you could have just said you were managing the kitchen, you instead take the opportunity to learn a skill. Plus, that way you never have to rely on someone else to cook for you. Very smart."

"Oh, um...thank you," you sputter as you get back to eating.

"I'm guessing that's why you went to college? Like me in the military it was a good reason to get away?"

You nod and gather your courage before answering, "I even specialized in shark conservation so I'd have an excuse to be out in the middle of the ocean. Away from anything and everything resembling wi-fi or phone networks."

He chuckles, "I had similar scenarios, but in the middle of jungles. All I'd have is a sat phone or something that would only occasionally work." He pauses to take a few more bites. "Honestly, I think one of the reasons I went into Coms and Tech is so I could learn to detect if my phone was bugged by my parents."

Both of you go quiet again for a bit, alternating between bites of food and sips of coffee.

"Um," you start, "would, can I ask..."

"Feel free to ask me anything," Jake assures.

"Do you have any food preferences I should know about? Things to avoid? Things you're allergic to?"

Jake smiles, "no allergies, as far as I know. And I am, by no means, a picky eater. You cook, I eat, simple as that."

"Okay, um, what's, what's your favorite food?"

He thinks for a minute. "Honestly, I'm a sucker for a good cheeseburger. I know, I'm pretty basic like that."

"It's a comfort food?"

He takes a breath, "maybe. Growing up, my parents had almost complete control over my diet. In high school, me and a couple friends would sneak out for lunch and hit up the burger place down the street. It was the closest I had to rebellion."

Your eyes go wide. "That's...I never could!"

"It was definitely stupid," Jake agrees. "I'm not sure what would've happened if we got caught, but we needed some way to act out. I didn't want to become a bully, I didn't have sports as an outlet, so I needed something else."

Silence falls over the two of you again for a bit.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," Jake starts. "Why sharks?"

"They have such a horribly undeserved reputation," you begin. "So much so that they're over-fished and almost no one cares. They get mutilated for a delicacy and they did nothing wrong! They're incredibly important to the ocean's ecosystem but because of some stupid movie series no one bats an eye when they get hunted to extinction. It's just...not fair!" Your emotions start catching up with you so you so talking for fear of being taunted and sneered at for being "too sensitive".

"You're really sweet," Jake says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Have you been able to do any conservation things since graduating? Like a fundraiser or something?"

You hang your head in embarrassment. "Mother and Father would never allow it. Said they didn't want the family name associated with cold blooded creatures for fear of the comparisons the press would make."

"That's bullshit," Jake softly exclaims. "You can't even make an anonymous donation or something?"

You bite your lip, trying to gauge how much you can trust him.

Jake sees your reaction, "have you already been? Going behind your parents' back?" You stay silent. "If so, I seriously congratulate you! That's dedication to your cause and a sign of how strong you really are."

You're glad you're keeping your head down so he can't see the shock on your face. You really do hope he's sincere. That he can be trusted.

After a bit more silence Jake starts grabbing up the plates. "Guess I should keep my end of the deal and get to work on the dishes. Thanks, again for the delicious breakfast."

"It's not a problem," you whisper, fighting the urge to clean up for yourself.

At that moment you hear the door to the penthouse open and Jake's father loudly proclaiming, "we're here!"

Part 6 -- Part 8

Series Masterlis

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn;

@icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[cranberrv]

when i was your man

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston wants you back

(warnings: mostly fem!reader but can be read otherwise, just a few remarks towards the reader being fem)

tulips were your favourite flower. dallas never remembered.

you had spent what seemed like forever trying to get dallas to be what you imagined to be a perfect boyfriend. get him to be the kind of guy you see in movies, the boy who isn’t afraid to be with you in public, the boy who takes you on fancy dates and the kind of boy who buys you flowers. but he never did, not once. love letters never showed up at your door, he never put his hand around your waist or took you out on a date.

you got over him quickly. he broke up with you because you got ‘too attached’, and he hates commitment. you were just one of the many girls who fell for his boyish grin and charm, who’s gaze went blurry and blind when any red flags seemed to uncover, ignoring every horrible attribute about him.

a new boy came into your life about a year after the breakup, a soc, someone who treated you with the respect you wanted and gave you the life you needed. he had the money to take you to fancy restaurants, and he always bought you roses, the most romantic flower there is.

when he got down on one knee, you had no doubt into your mind and said yes. his proposal was too good to be true, everything thing about him was. he proposed on a vacation in the tropics, by the beach. there were tears in his eyes. you had never had a man cry for you. not dallas, not anyone.

planning the wedding was easy. you were having red velvet cake, the venue was in your backyard, keeping it close to home, and you were going to wear the most beautiful and expensive outfit. your fiancé was in charge of deciding who to invite, and he invited everyone you wanted to be there for your special day.

simply put, you were in a pure state of bliss. what every little kid dreams of is a perfect lover who will give you everything you want and more, and now you have that.

there was one topic your fiancé did avoid, though, and that was dallas winston. your lover did not like him, not one bit, he became bitter towards dallas after you opened up about how he didn’t treat you like you mattered, which was all you wanted. you felt it was a bit excessive, if you even dared to utter his name, he’d interrupt and change the topic. and dallas certainly was not invited to the wedding.

at the end of the day, you shouldn’t care about that. you spend a lot of your time convincing yourself that it doesn’t matter that your lover is being rude to your ex boyfriend, it’s not like dal treated you right, anyway. it doesn’t matter, right? it’s better he’s not in your life.

on the day of the wedding, something felt off. you saw your reflection in the mirror as your friend did up your dress, and you didn’t see a girl who was tearing up with joy, ranting to your friends about how perfect your fiancé is. you should be, your lover was perfect and life was magical. you felt ungrateful for the gift life gave you. yet, in the mirror you saw a confused and unsure person looking back at you. someone who didn’t know what they were doing, someone who didn’t know the difference between love and lust, a scared kid who rushed into a decision purely out of the need to feel wanted after a past relationship.

as you’re standing, staring at you and your outfit in the mirror, your friend goes up to the vanity (which you’ve yet to sit at), and picks up a small bouquet of flowers.

“what’s this?” she says, holding it up and examining it. “did your boy give this to you?” she teases.

you look at it. “oh,” you hadn’t noticed that before. it’s not roses. he always gets you roses. this time, it’s tulips. tulips wrapped with light parchment paper and a lace bow. “yeah, i guess so.” she hands you the bouquet, and a small smile spreads across your face. so he did remember.

your friend talks to you for a bit longer, and eventually leaves the room to go grab the hair stylist from downstairs. you’re then stood in the room alone, staring at the bouquet of flowers with a smile and rosy cheeks.

a few minutes later, the door creaks open. you perk up. your face falls, eyebrows raising every so slightly with surprise. cold umber eyes and a smirk that never quite reaches his eyes, a sentence that perfectly describes dallas winston.

shock turns to frustration. how dare he just sneak in here on your special day? he’s probably just planning on ruining it, maybe he’s already got into a fistfight with the groom.

“jesus, dallas, what’re you doing here?-“ your voice is still quiet, not wanting to alert attention.

“you look cute.” he interrupts, eyes not leaving you for a second, drifting across your hair and your pretty outfit. they stop at the bouquet of tulips. “d’you like the flowers? they were expensive.”

your eyes fall onto the bouquet, and you look back up at him. you ignore both of the shocking statements, trying to get him out of here. “you’re not supposed to be here—“

“i was wrong.” he interrupts again. “i was wrong for everything. look, you know i’m not one to say this, and i’m sure as hell not one for these romantic gestures, but i messed up. i thought i could get over you, i mean, broads are easy enough to get over, but i just can’t. your name loops my mind all day and it’s fuckin’ stupid. now you’re with someone ten times better than me, and i know i’m probably too late, but please, don’t say yes. i can treat you how you should be, i promise. i know i don’t have a good history with girls, or with you, but i can try. i’m willing to give it my fuckin’ all for you, i’ll remember your middle name and i’ll take you to the movies, i don’t know. but you’re my gal, y/n, i can’t let my gal run off with someone else now, can i?”

there you’re stood, staring up at him with the bouquet in your grasp, hands shaking and tears silently streaming down your face. your mouth keeps opening and closing, at a loss for words. “why now?” you say after a few antagonizing long seconds. “i mean- i’m stood here on the day of my wedding, and- and you chose now to tell me this?” your voice is breaking a bit, but you’re doing a good job at keeping your cool.

“i’m telling you this cause i know you’ll make the wrong decision otherwise.” he answers.

“well what am i supposed to do now? god, you can’t just do that, dal, i don’t wanna walk down the aisle with another boy on my mind,” you sit down on the chair by the vanity, feeling lightheaded and trying to gather yourself.

“i want you to walk down the aisle and know there’s another boy who loves—“

sometimes you wonder what he was gonna say, but you decided to interrupt him. “we’re not sayin’ that word again, dal.”

maybe you’re just in denial. the word ‘love’ associated with dallas seems so right, and you’d rather die than admit that.

he goes over and kneels beside you. this kneel feels more important than your fiancés was the day of the proposal. “y/n, i’m just being honest. you think you’d be cryin’ if it was some other guy? you wouldn’t. i may not know the little things but i sure as hell know what you’re feeling right now.”

his words hit you like bricks. you don’t want it to be real that you’re crying because you still love him, crying because you love another boy more than your very near future husband. “i’m an awful person, dal,” all your emotions come out at once, small sobs that you try so hard to contain so people don’t notice. “please just go, dal, i can’t do this.”

“and then you go off and make some stupid decision with some guy that ain’t me? don’t think so, y/n.”

“he doesn’t deserve this,” you start speaking about your ex. “he doesn’t deserve me loving another guy.”

you’re speechless after that, crying in your vanity chair. his hand grabs yours as you break down, sitting there in this hurt. you hold his hand so tightly, never wanting to let go.

he’s there for you. he’s always been there for you. lurking in the background, spending his time loving you and watching how quickly you got over him. you knew it was too good to be true. you knew the decision was too rushed, that there was a reason why you instantly moved on. now you knew exactly why.

“i think i’m still in love with you, dal,” you say softly after you recollect yourself enough to speak.

he chuckles. “you think?” he says sarcastically. you did just spend the time you should’ve been getting ready for your wedding crying over him.

you furrow your eyebrows, not in the mood for jokes. “lay off, dal, i mean it.”

he releases a small breath. “you wanna get out of here, then?”

you hesitate, thinking back to your now heartbroken fiancé and your loved ones that will be extremely disappointed in you for leaving without a word, but you nod. dal always had a way of making you do reckless things.

maybe the guilt will always haunt you after you leave, and you’ll find yourself always thinking back to the day when you were just a young and dumb kid who hurt so many people by wanting just one, or maybe you’ll find yourself with a version of dallas who is trying, who is more open to commitment and to spending time with you, a version of dallas who remembers tulips are your favourite flower.

[gravehags]

my love mine all mine

Pairing: Cumulus x f!reader (ghoul bicycle reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, self worth issues, crying, vibrators, dildos, lovey dovey emotions, praise

Words: 3,674

Summary: You never wanted any of them to see you like this but if they had to, you're glad it's Cumulus.

a/n: hello yes this is definitely a normal smut fic that i did NOT project my personal issues into thank you very much

You’ve been quiet recently. In one of your moods.

You have no reason to be - by all accounts you should be overjoyed with your current situation. As of yesterday, the last of your things have been moved into your new room and your lovers (all ten of them) have been wonderful and affectionate. Which leads you to where you are now - standing alone, naked, in front of your full length mirror eyeing yourself with disdain. Despite your move into the ghoul den now being complete, you still don’t feel as if you belong here. It’s not your lovers that have made you feel that way - quite the contrary - but your own mind. Wondering what they see in someone like you. You’re an unremarkable sibling and, you think as you squeeze at your generous belly and hips, there are far more attractive people at the abbey who deserve to be in your position. Why did they like you so much? Tears well in your eyes as you scoff and sniffle, angry at your own ungratefulness. When there’s a knock at your door, your brain wildly jumps to the conclusion that it’s the ghouls - ready to tell you they changed their mind and they don’t want you anymore. A harsh sob escapes you and you double over.

“Honey? Are you okay? I’m coming in.”

Through blurred vision you see the figure of Cumulus in her white silk nightgown open the door and step in, quickly shutting it behind her when she sees the state you’re in. She rushes over to you, wrapping her arms around you as your weight falls heavy onto her. Your sobs are fierce and wet and you move to collapse onto the rug below you but the ghoulette catches you and steers you over to your bed. Her gentleness as she sets you down and grabs your calves to swing your feet onto the duvet only makes you cry harder. She abandons your side only for a moment to round the bed and climb in. She pulls you close, pushing your hair away from your face until the two of you are a breath apart. 

“Babylove, what’s going on, huh? You’ve been so quiet we’ve all been worried about you.”

When you open your mouth to speak, a horrible wail comes out instead and she pulls away momentarily to reach behind her and grab the box of tissues off the nightstand. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright honey,” she reaches down to pull the soft blue blanket up over the both of you, “You cry as much as you need to. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

So you do just that.

You’re not sure how long it takes for you to run dry of tears, but true to her word, Cumulus stays by your side catching all of them with a soggy tissue. When she holds a fresh one up to your nose and commands you to “blow” you bark out a hoarse laugh which makes her smile. Your head is pounding.

“Alright, so what’s going on, love? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because what I just witnessed was not nothing.”

You let out a ragged sigh.

“I hate myself,” you begin, figuring bluntness is the only way this is going to feel better, “I hate my body. Hate what I see in the mirror. I don’t see why you and the others care about me, want me…find me attractive. There are other siblings who deserve–”

“Stop.”

The hardness in Cumulus’ voice is something you’ve never heard before and it shocks you so much you hiccup. She looks at you with deadly seriousness but when your eyes begin to well with tears once again her gaze softens and she reaches her hand up to stroke your cheek.

“My love, despite the horrible lies your brain has convinced you of, you are special. Beautiful. We’ve always told you that, right?”

You nuzzle into your pillow.

“I know you have and…” you sigh again, rubbing your eyes, “like you said it’s my stupid brain. I know what you guys tell me but that little fucking gremlin inside me doesn’t. It just tells me you guys are being kind or taking pity on me.”

Cumulus hums in her throat and her eyes look sad.

“Let me tell you something about ghouls,” she begins, scooting closer to you, “We don’t establish a pack until we’re summoned but many ghouls find their mates prior to that point, in the pit. None of us did and as much as we all care for one another we always knew there was a piece missing. Did you know I saw you first? You were front row for a ritual and even from my spot at the keyboard I noticed you. You just had a…a vibe. Gave me butterflies. I told the others after the show. Then when Bug and Rora were summoned we waited to see if they would latch onto you like we did - it was almost instantaneous. When you were asked to assist us with moving boxes in the rehearsal room that day where we first asked if you wanted to hang out? No accident. We requested you, specifically. Sathanas, we were all so scared of…well scaring you away.”

“Dew was the first one to talk to me,” you murmur, with a smile. Cumulus huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, we were all hoping he wouldn’t say anything too uh…caustic.”

You giggle.

“He complimented my rosary,” you say softly, “you know, my garnet and gold one? Told me it was sick because the beads look like blood drops. I never forgot the way he smiled at me when I laughed.”

“He’s charming, when he wants to be,” Cumulus chuckles.

“He’s a sweetheart,” you counter, “He’s all bark.”

The ghoulette gives you a doubtful look.

“You didn’t see him with that sister who insulted y–”

Your jaw drops a little as she cuts herself off and shakes her head.

“Anyway,” she continues gently, carefully sidestepping the murderous nature of her pack, “right from the get-go we all knew you were the one. After Swiss got to you well…we hoped the pieces would fall into place. And we fucked it up…Satan knows we fucked it up a few times but now that you’re here? With us? Darling, it’s everything. You are everything. Our missing piece.”

You smile at her and when you get teary eyed again she swiftly leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whisper. She pecks you on the lips before pulling back.

“Now about this other part,” she says with faux-sternness, “what do you mean you hate your body?”

“Ugh,” you begin, rolling onto your back to stare at the canopy above you. You know saying this is going to be easier without Cumulus’ soft gaze looking into yours. “You know it’s the usual…internalized fatphobia bullshit. I don’t like what I see in the mirror, never have. Especially when I compare myself to the other sisters…I envy you, you know?”

She cocks her head at you and you face her once more.

“You’re so confident and beautiful and you know you’re beautiful and that makes you even more beautiful,” you gush, making her lips twitch, “I just…augh. Want that for me too, you know?”

Cumulus shakes her head.

“Humans are so weird about their bodies,” she sighs, “as if the vessels that hold all your complexities and your knowledge and your love and the things that make you…you…are anything but incidental. There’s no one right way to be beautiful. Not to be cheesy or anything but beauty can’t be universally gauged by any one person’s opinion. Or society’s opinion for that matter. And like you said - you think I’m beautiful and we have similar shapes, would you ever speak as unkindly to me as you do yourself?”

“No!” you blurt out, hand reaching out to grab hers, “‘Lus I would never.”

“So what makes you any different?” she asks patiently.

“I…well…”

“Exactly,” she nods, triumphant. “You are physically beautiful whether you believe it or not but more importantly your heart is what drew all of us. None of us had ever made friends with siblings before you and you welcomed us into your life with open arms, no judgment. You treated us with kindness and grace from the moment we first spoke. We adore all of you - whether that’s your body, your mind, or your soul. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you and I guarantee if you ask the others they’ll say the same.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is small and you dodge her gaze.

Cumulus makes a thoughtful noise and grabs the edge of the blanket, yanking it off the two of you, causing you to squawk at your nakedness. Cumulus’ gaze is hungry, traveling up your body from feet to face.

“I’m not trying to change the subject or anything,” she purrs, reaching a hand out to knead your hip, “but how about I show you just how beautiful you really are, huh?”

Your throat is dry as you look over her like she did you before nodding.

“I’ll go gentle,” Cumulus murmurs, claws dancing along your skin, “you uh…you got that gift I gave you?”

Oh, do you. Not that you’ve had much use for it with your ghoul harem on call.

“Bedside drawer,” you rasp out as her fingers cheekily pinch at your nipple, “there’s uh…others in there too.”

Cumulus rises from the bed and stands, waggling her eyebrows at you. When she opens the drawer she gasps in delight.

“Who…?”

“Aurora,” you laugh softly, “she told me my stash was ‘severely lacking’ and you know how Papa Copia gave you guys that credit card?”

Cumulus laughs and the sound is so bright and joyous it makes your heart clench.

“Let’s see,” she begins, bending over. “Found the one I got you. And hmm…perhaps this?”

You look to see what she’s put on the bed. The little pocket vibe with devil horns she got you, which you are extremely fond of, and…oh. Interesting. The iridescent glass dildo you hadn’t tried yet with its bulbous head and smooth shaft. Your mouth falls open, considering the implications of the items you see before you and when Cumulus clears her throat, your eyes shoot up to hers.

“Easy, girl,” she breathes, scooching her nightgown up her body and over her head. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen her do it, your mouth still waters. She grabs the toys and crawls over to you, grinning sharply. Once she’s by your side you roll onto your back, tongue darting out to wet your lips. You can already feel the heat and slick accumulating between your thighs. She props her head up and with her free hand, she drags her cool fingertips down your arm, leaving goosebumps in her wake. 

“Love how sensitive you are,” she purrs, her breath stirring your hair. She reaches between you and picks up the little vibe, turning it on. With a grin she drags it across your lips and jaw, along your clavicle, down your sternum, and brushes the underside of your breast. Between her cool touch and your arousal you feel your nipples growing taut and judging from the delighted noise Cumulus just made, she sees it too.

“Pretty,” she breathes, taking the toy and circling the bud, playing connect the dots with the little bumps on your areola. “You like these pretty titties?”

She patiently waits for you to answer, content to just tease you until she hears you say it - and mean it. You look down and behold the swell of your breasts.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter out, “yeah I do.”

She makes a noise of affirmation in her throat before mercifully dragging the vibe over your nipple. The sensation makes your cunt clench and your legs spread wider.

“How about this one, you like this one?” she asks, sliding the vibe over to your other breast.

“Yes,” you breathe, more confident this time. She rewards you by leaning in and slipping your taut nipple into her mouth, sucking insistently. When your hips flex and a moan escapes you, she returns the vibe to your other nipple. The hungry little noises she makes as her tongue slides over you has your hand flying to her curls. When she pulls off, you let out an embarrassing whine.

“‘Lus, please,” you whimper.

“Don’t worry, angel, I’m not done with you yet. Got all night, huh?”

All night. The implication of her having her way with you until the sun rises makes another gush of slick come out of you. You surely must be dripping on the duvet at this point. She tucks her body along yours, her leg hooking around your calf to spread you open and she inhales sharply.

“Mmmm,” she moans, knowing full well she’s caught the scent of you. The notion makes your head fall back against your pillow and your back arch. “Filthy girl,” she pants as she drags the little vibe over your belly, “filthy, beautiful girl. Isn’t that right?”

She stops her hand at your mound, teasing along the curls. You know she won’t descend further until you say what she wants to hear.

“Beautiful girl,” you say, breathing heavily through your nose. She moves the vibe closer to your slit.

“Say it again,” she tells you and you exhale sharply.

“Beautiful girl.”

She drags along the slit.

“Again,” she prompts.

“Beautiful gir–ah!”

When she slips the little devil between your folds and rests it on your clit, you want to cry with relief. Her fingers press down on it as your hips buck upwards and you moan.

“‘Lus, so good. Fuck, yes, right there.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss your throat, her tongue tracing over your carotid. You’re squirming but she holds the little devil steady against you, teeth dragging over your skin as your hips buck up against her. 

“Gonna cum quick for me tonight, huh baby?”

You let out a whine and bite your lip, nodding vigorously.

“Yes, yes, yes, Cumulus, fuck, don’t stop, don’t–ah!”

Now you know you’re dripping on the duvet as your cunt clenches around nothing and Cumulus urges you through your first orgasm of the night. You feel almost dizzy as you fist the covers and look over at her with adoring eyes.

“L-love you.”

She grins, all teeth.

“You’re easy, aren’t you? Besides I know you love me - let’s work on you, hmm?”

Gently she eases the vibe away from you so you can catch your breath. When she picks up the dildo and raises it to rest the head on your lower lip you groan.

“Didn’t forget about this beauty, did you?” she coos and lazily you flick your tongue out to brush against the tip. The action makes her gasp and her gaze darken.

“That’s right,” she breathes, “I remember how much you liked my cock in your mouth. First one you ever had. Can you be a good, pretty little slut and take this one for me too?”

You nod and extend the flat of your tongue for her to put the head on. When she eases it into your mouth you hollow your cheeks and suck hard on the glass, eyes on hers. Cumulus has maintained immaculate control of herself all evening until this point and you feel her sharp exhales on your shoulder as she slowly slides the dildo out of your mouth and pushes it back in. The glass is cool in your mouth as you greedily take more.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Cumulus murmurs, “Nice and deep. Like to watch you with one of the guys sometime. Maybe Mountain or Aether. Watch that pretty little mouth stretch and stretch while you take their fat cocks. Maybe we’ll make a contest of it. See who you can take the most of. Would you like that?”

She wetly slides the dildo out of your mouth and lets you pant for a moment.

“Y-yeah. I’d like that ‘Lus.”

“Good girl,” she purrs, dragging it down your chest to your hardened nipple. She giggles before sharply slapping it, making you jolt and your hips twitch.

“Cumulus, please,” you breathe as she continues to make a wet path down your body. When she drags the bulbous head through your folds, you whimper. Obligingly she spreads you open and nudges your entrance with the head.

“Only beautiful girls get fucked,” she hums, ever-so-slightly pushing you open, “So if you really want it that would make you…?”

Your head falls backwards against the pillow as a soft laugh comes out of your open mouth.

“A beautiful girl,” you obediently state.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes I mean I–I can’t see myself so how would I know?”

Cumulus scoffs.

“You wanna know how you look, baby? The way you flush so prettily from your cheeks all the way down? The way those sweet little nipples look all hard and begging to be sucked? The way your hair falls on the pillow? The wet curls in between your legs and this dripping cunt all ready for me? Darling, what would you call that if not beautiful?”

Your chest heaves and you look her in the eyes.

“I’m a beautiful girl.”

The conviction in your voice makes her cheeks crinkle in a grin and gently she pushes the head of the toy inside you. Your jaw falls open as she continues to ease it inside.

“That’s it, honey,” she murmurs, scooting her body down for greater access and to nuzzle at your breast. “Take it all. Doing so well.”

Your breathing is coming out in short pants, a moan hanging on your lips. When the toy bottoms out she leans down and presses a kiss to your chest. The curved shaft and the fat head of the toy is pressing against a spot inside you that makes white stars bloom behind your closed eyelids.

“Cumulus, please.”

That’s all she needs before she eases the dildo out and pushes it back in. Her pace starts off slow but before long her wrist snaps in controlled thrusts. You can’t speak, can barely keep up with breathing as she fucks you at a steady pace.

“So good for me,” she pants, eyes cast down at the iridescent glass and how it disappears inside you, “so fucking good, baby. Always so sweet. So giving. ‘S what we love about you. How eager you are.”

The slick noises coming out of your body are lewd as your hips buck up to meet each thrust. Your moans are loud and finally you seem to have regained the ability to speak.

“Fuck, ‘Lus,” you whine, “L-love you. Love you so–ah–m-much. Don’t stop. P-please don’t–”

“Oh angel, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she coos, changing the angle of her wrist and making you choke out a gasp, “Watching you come apart is better than anything.”

The pleasure is so intense - feels so good - tears begin to leak out of the corners of your eyes and you know you’re close. You’re babbling nonsense as you sob and she increases her pace, eyes on your cunt.

“Gonna cum for me, honey?” she pants, her own hips flexing against you unconsciously. You try to answer but all that comes out of you is a long, low moan. “Come on my beautiful girl, give it to me.”

Your hips jerk upwards as your back bows off the bed and you cum with a scream. Cumulus is speaking to you but all you can hear is static as she continues to fuck you through your orgasm. You struggle to catch your breath as the corners of your vision go dark and you grab at her.

“C-can’t Cumulus, I can’t.”

Gently she slows her pace and you finally manage to inhale deep when she comes to a stop. She’s panting almost as much as you are, her eyes dancing over your face. You’re overwhelmed - the whole night just too fucking much - and you let out a pathetic little sob. She eases the toy out of you and sets it aside, immediately scooting up to see you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she breathes, leaning in to press her lips against your forehead. “You did so well, my love. So well. I’m so proud. Beautiful, wonderful girl.”

You expect tears to accompany your sobbing but it would seem you’ve already cried yourself dry tonight. You concentrate on Cumulus’ breath to even out your own as she strokes your sweat-damp hair away from your face.

“That was a lot,” your voice is hoarse and she nods.

“Yeah, it was. And you were perfect. I love you. So, so much, baby.”

You nod and the two of you pull apart, content to calm yourselves in each other’s presence. Cumulus rolls onto her back and stares at the canopy.

“You know…” she begins thoughtfully after a few minutes, raising a hand to point, “we could definitely put a mirror up there.”

The giggle that comes out of you quickly escalates to a guffaw and shaking, you press a kiss to Cumulus’ shoulder.

“Like some kind of depraved sex den?” you ask with a grin.

“Uh-huh,” she confirms, smiling equally wide. You roll your eyes and yawn so wide you hear your jaw pop.

“Bed?” she asks, sitting up.

“Mmm mmhmm,” you say, sitting up, swinging your legs over and standing up. You’re going to be deliciously sore in the morning. 

“Hey,” Cumulus says behind you and you turn around as she peels the covers back, “Proud of you.”

You nod and uncover your side before climbing back in. She does the same.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you murmur, eyelids heavy. Cumulus leans in to kiss you once on the forehead, once on the cheek, and once on the lips.

“It’s my honor. Sleep well, angel.”

You’re not sure if you respond, already drifting off. The rumble of purrs fills your head and sets you at ease. You’re warm. You’re safe. And you are loved.

[httpskuzuu]

Softer Pt.2

I like October, it's my birthday month, and I finally finished the second part of Softer :p

Anyway, I think you can tell that I like the word need, necesitar, in Spanish or English sounds good :D and this is my favorite part, I think, I really like how they both turned out

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (but the part 2 >:p) Pt.1

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, explicit self-harms, blood, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, self-blame, suicidal thoughts, mention of death (no one dies), blood loss, manipulation, trauma, mention of god, Fyodor is a fucking tw

It was three phases from your confession and your punishment.

Everything was perfect and nice for the first two weeks, until your cuts became scars. He seemed to go out of his way to make you feel good and loved by him, and you were very grateful. Now, you feel ungrateful to be complaining about his change.

After six weeks, your ribs healed and he began to distance you. When you noticed that, you panicked, you cried whole nights and days in your room because of this fact, how was it possible that something like this had affected you so much? You don't even know yourself, you just know that you wanted to pull out every hair on your body to forget about the emotional pain you were carrying.

And now, well, you can't be so horrible and say that Fyodor is back to his usual self, it's more like a strange mix, that comforts you. That this Fyodor is a mix of the previous ones makes you think he's trying to be gentle, but he's having a difficult time. You like to opine that that's the right reason for not sinking you further.

You wish you could say you hate normal Fyodor, but you can't hate any part of Fyodor and that worries you. What's been happening to you? Why are you behaving this way? Always looking for the terrorist's cold touch like an abandoned dog. Always waiting for him like a dog, loving him like one, messy, intense and ready to die for your owner.

Your mind was broken, atrophied and without any hope of repair. That scares you. You don't want this! You want your mind back! You miss being able to think about something else that isn't related to Fyodor. It's like being an intruder in your own mind, you no longer belong in that place full of happy memories, now blurred.

Sometimes you love your useless mind, you love believing in him the way you do, and you love how that seems to satisfy him. Maybe that's all your mind is looking for: to satisfy him.

Speaking of satisfying: he no longer seems to enjoy punishing you, which completely disorients you. All your life you were assuming that the only way to satisfy Fyodor was to let him mistreat you, but now? Now he was only touching you to give you light caresses. You don't want to be an idiot, you love that now your body doesn't suffer, but that doesn't take away from the fact that a small part of your skin is missing the pain. It's as if you were created to be hurt.

You convince yourself that you are ungrateful. Fyodor has changed for you, and you play the victim, saying that everything is so weird, poor you. You can't think about anything else besides yourself because you are a bad person, because you don't deserve the change Fyodor made for you.

It's not like before, everything is so much more comfortable in his presence, even if afterward he disappears for hours and makes your mind a prison of horrible thoughts, thoughts of firmly believing that it's your fault he's gone.

Physical contact has also changed, it is somewhat more common than with normal Fyodor, but it is nothing compared to gentle Fyodor. It really hurts you inside every time he is in front of you, and he isn't touching you or talking to you. Something is broken, and you don't quite know why. How needy of attention have you become in this time?

What did Fyodor do with your mind? You don't know. The horror of what he did to you is still in you, lurking like a shadow. It won't go away.

Sometimes there's a little voice deep in the back of your head, the only sane part left in you. It shows up on dark nights, when you're alone, makes you realize all the shit Fyodor put you through and how much he fucked up your mental health. You like having that little voice, it feels like getting over Fyodor somehow, it's a shame it disappears the next morning along with the first bite of breakfast.

Even though you listen to it, you never mind it, and that can be noticed by the need to not be able to bear it anymore, you need Fyodor so badly. You miss him every time he's gone. You miss the person who hurt you.

Maybe you really are going crazy.

You think about the fact that Fyodor took care of you after the punishment, when you were moribund and almost unable to move from the pain, and that his kind behavior ended after all your damages were healed.

You were about to do something crazy, you were aware of it, but you would give anything to feel that angelic temperature change again.

You have a sharp knife in your hand, you squeeze it so hard that your fist turns white. Fyodor never hides sharp objects, only pills, he knows you wouldn't be able to kill yourself with them out of fear.

Something tells you to kill yourself, to teach Fyodor a lesson.

Again your ungrateful thoughts come back, he already told you, you are just a brat. A fucking brat, and what you were doing now proves it.

But can you really blame yourself for this? You just need his attention, you need that love in his hands, you need him to care so much about you that he locks every drawer in the house.

That's why you're here now, in the bathroom, with your elbows resting on the sink and the knife almost brushing against your clean arm. About to kill a part of you to keep his gentleness alive.

You think about whether it's possible that he might be angry with you for this, for staining your skin with wounds without his permission. You think if he gets angry and punishes you it will also be worth it because there is a chance he will take care of you after that like the first time.

Maybe all you need to do is talk it over with him, maybe you need his naked body against yours to keep control, or maybe a simple kiss would be better. Maybe you should relax, maybe you should ask him for a hug, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe….

A cut and the blood starts to spread. You feel an immense urge to vomit, and you regret everything that led you to this moment.

You drop the knife limply and cover the wound with your now free hand. You watch the scene you've made for yourself with wide, shocked eyes. Why did you do all this? Just for Fyodor's attention? How pathetic of you.

You're like a child, crying and screaming, having a tantrum to get what you want.

You don't even heed your thoughts, and your gaze returns to the knife lying in the sink. The fright has dissipated and only silence remains. You need to cut more, how will you make Fyodor care about you with just one cut? You need more, you need to tear your arm if you have to, take your skin off, anything.

It's just a cut.

You move your hand away from the wound, blood is still coming out, but you don't care. You grab the knife, careful not to let it slip through the red fluid, and keep cutting.

It's just a cut, a few cuts, many cuts.

You stop when you get dizzy and lose your balance, drop the knife on the floor and miraculously you don't fall with it. You lean against the wall behind you and watch as the floor fills with your dripping blood. It's too much, too much, oh God, now you're going to die, aren't you? Is that what's going to happen?

You deserve to die, or at least you convince yourself of it, you're just a useless entity in Fyodor's house, what other function do you do here besides pursuing him? It would be like a punishment for being so selfish, for loving Fyodor so much.

Sometimes it surprises you how much you hate yourself just because you are you. Would you hate Fyodor the same way if he were like you? You don't even need to think about it, you already know the answer.

You hear footsteps outside the bathroom. Of course, you made some noise when you dropped the knife and almost fell yourself in the process. Fyodor had to notice, wait, that meant that Fyodor was paying attention to you and the noises you were making. He could just stay absorbed in his work, but no, he's here now.

Three soft knocks on the door are enough to make you tremble.

"Everything okay?"

You cry the instant you hear his voice, yes, there's the soft Fyodor. You recognize hints of tenderness and concern in his voice., you can recognize it.

You shouldn't have cut yourself off, now you change your mind and you don't want Fyodor to see you this way, weak and unbearable. If he realizes that you can't live without him by your side, you're sure he'll leave you, that you'll be too annoying for him and he'll go back to being his old self, this time forever, or until he gets rid of you, until he finds someone better than you. That would be easy.

If there is a God up there, you beg him to let you die. There is no answer. You're left to face your actions alone.

"I've done a stupid thing…"

You still have time to think better of it, you can still barricade yourself in the bathroom and die there. But these are your actions, your consequences.

You shakily open the door.

The look on Fyodor's face is one you've never seen, that keeps you from lowering your head with shame. You've never seen so many emotions in him, all at once, like a whirlpool.

Have you been able to generate that? You don't know whether to consider it a good or bad thing, but a flow of pride runs through your veins.

Fyodor whispers your name, breathless, his accent thickening even more. A part of you actually believed that what you did to yourself would not affect him in any way, how foolish, of course it would affect him. He is human, you are human, but still something tells you that Fyodor is anything but human. His eyes now show you otherwise.

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot! I didn't mean to bother you."

Fyodor takes only a few seconds to drag you back into the bathroom. He turns on the sink faucet and guides your arm down the stream of water. It hurts like hell, but complaining doesn't even cross your mind, after all, Fyodor probably stopped doing something important just to cure your mess, you can't give him any more trouble.

Your mind would like to escape your body, but you don't let it because without it you wouldn't be able to feel Fyodor behind you, pressing his chest against your scarred back.

As he runs a soaked towel against your cuts, you decide to lean against him, he doesn't push you away, and you take it as a small victory.

Your brain won't let you enjoy of the moment, giving you reminders of everything the Russian had done to you: the scars on your back, all over your body, the agonizing nightmares, the silent and devastating nights. All a fucking reminder, and yet here you are, against his body.

Your thoughts linger in that confined space until your arm is tight between messy bandages. His hand reaches for yours and your fingers intertwine.

You fear his potential annoyance, his potential punishment. He provokes unique feelings in you, and you love him, but he is terrible, he is just terrible.

Fyodor lets out a sigh, and you know instantly that you are selfish. He is tired, he has better things to do besides taking care of a brat, but still he is still with you. Fyodor is such a merciful being when it came to you, he wouldn't be this way with anyone else, only you. You feel your chest tighten with warmth.

"Fyodor…" You don't want to speak too loudly or break the silence in the room. You try to keep your thoughts in the same rhythm as your voice, quiet and low. You need to be okay, for Fyodor's sake.

"Why?" He squeezes your hand. There is no emotion in his voice, and you feel guilty of your disappointment at that. "Why did you do it?"

"I-" The words decided not to come out of your mouth and closed your throat in a knot, a very painful knot.

What were you supposed to say? Wouldn't admitting your need for attention make you sound like a spoiled child? A brat?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." You say hastily, trying to find words to make Fyodor happy, so he won't hate you for your reckless actions.

"You don't bother me." Bullshit, Fyodor is an almost pathological liar, you should know that, it should be burned into your memory. You'd like to believe him. "Is this why you did all this? Because you think you're bothering me?"

You wish the answer was as easy as that. You shake your head.

"Then why?"

"I needed you." It's not a good explanation, there are a lot of loose questions left, but how else can you tell him? Every time you speak, it's like scratching your throat.

"Needed me? You mean my attention?" You nod, feeling a humiliation run down your throat. "I was with you all these days, what more attention do you want from me?"

It's like a stabbing, like the cuts he gave you on your back. It showed, from afar, you were just a pet that can't be away from its owner or it would break into pieces. You shouldn't be crying either, you have no good reason to.

"Hey, no, stop." He turns your body without effort. All you do is keep your head down, full of shame, though it doesn't last long, as his free hand lifts it up and lands against your cheek. You don't deserve it, you can't even stop crying. "What did I say? Why are you crying this time?"

"I'm a spoiled brat." You lean against his cold hand, you needed his touch so badly.

"You're not, you just wanted me to give you attention, that's not a bad thing."

"It is! I'm being selfish." The sobs interrupt you, and you close your eyes, you don't want to look at Fyodor. How can you ask for love and attention from Fyodor when you yourself don't know how to love properly?

"Selfish? Why?" Your reason that the only reason for his question is to make you humiliate yourself, to make you admit that you are a nuisance.

"B-Because you were probably busy, I'm just bothering you trying to get your attention…"

"I want you to pay close attention to me right now, can you do that?" Even if you couldn't do it, you would anyway. You're not lying when you nod in response. He's all you can think about and fixate on, everything else is ephemeral and useless, nothing else is needed for you.

"Good... You don't bother me, I understand you want more attention from me, I made your mind that way anyway. Stop feeling bad about doing things you're programmed to do." Hearing him admit that, is like a war in your head, you should care that Fyodor played with your mind like a stuffed animal, but what you should is not the same as what you do. It feels like a relief to know that it is Fyodor is causing it all, and it's nicer than you ever imagined.

Your mind will never go back to normal after this. You will never be the same after this. That's okay, you can live with it as long as you have Fyodor by your side.

You collapse against him, hugging him with no intention of letting go. He accepts you in his arms. Now everything is warm again like it was that time, you needed it so badly after everything that had happened.

"It's just that you've been acting more distant and I thought-" Do you really want to keep talking and sobbing nonsense? You have no intended trajectory with your words.

You just hope Fyodor understands you, it's the only thing that will give you calm.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, no need to cry anymore, моя крошка." His hands on your back undeniably comfort you. His touch feels like fire, but it doesn't burn, it just leaves a trail of warmth and desire everywhere it passes.

You are a sensitive, desperate mess, and no one knows how to love you but Fyodor. He is the God you have always pleaded to, now you understand why he never granted your wish to die.

"This is strange for me. I've never cared for anyone before, and I really don't want to hurt you unintentionally." And there's your long-awaited why. It's warmer than you could have ever thought, your heart is silently grateful. He's trying, that's good enough for you.

Maybe you can't go back to that first day of care after punishment, maybe you can't go back to that new and gentle Fyodor, but those are things that happen and that's okay.

You nod, oblivious to your own reality, everything feels correct. "I get it, it's okay, yeah. You don't have to worry, I'm fine now."

But you keep crying.

You don't know or need to know how long you stood there, holding each other as if both of your lives depended on it. In total silence until Fyodor's voice broke it. No doubt that's your favorite tune.

"моя любовь, I never responded properly to your confession, did I?" He never did, but he never denied it. There was always a glimmer of hope that you took as the word yes, as total acceptance of your feelings.

You look at him with enlightened eyes, you wished that what your mind was imagining was real.

"I love you too."

Fyodor's love is paralyzing. You notice it now.

my favorite part is the dog part, idk, I like how it turned out

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE ELI JANG HEADCANONS

There are two instances where you could have met Eli, you'd either be a member of the Hostel along with Warren, Sally, Olly, Heather, Max and Derek, or you'd meet Eli at Jaewon High. Let's delve into the scenarios and possibilities of how you could have met this angst filled guy and the Big Daddy of Hostel(Lol, I'm sorry but I cackled like a maniac when I read that)

Scenario 1: To say that your parents were horrible was saying the least. Your parents were obsessed with you trying to be perfect and trying to be the golden child even though you were the only child of the family, they always wanted you to be the best at everything. Your grades were more important to them than your own comfort and happiness. For a recent test in math, you received a horrible score in it and your parents were less than pleased about it. They refused to give you dinner and after your mother ended up slapping you across the face and your father screaming at you of how much of an ungrateful brat you were despite them providing a roof over your head, you couldn't take it anymore. You felt trapped, you felt caged, like a bird with it's wings clipped. You wanted to fly...and forge your own path. You snuck out of your house in the middle of the night as you found comfort and solace in the cold night with the wind gently blowing by you and you headed to the local park as you sat down on a bench. You sniffled to yourself quietly and tears silently streamed down your face as you wondered how much longer were you supposed to live like this for

A guy ended up sitting next to you and he had raven black hair with an H tattoo on his head as he stared at you for a few seconds silently, You felt slightly embarrassed for crying and pouring your emotions out in front of a stranger as you quickly wiped your eyes and you were about to leave. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked you softly as he looked at you, his eyes shining with concern for you. Despite the fact that your mind screamed at you not to talk to a stranger, he exuded no threat to you and had a comforting soothing personality and you felt drawn to him, in a comforting manner. No one's ever asked you about your feelings and you felt touched that someone was ready to listen. Despite your hesitance, he gently prodded on and you told him about how your life was at home and you felt trapped. "Well don't worry, anytime you ever need someone to hear you out, you can always count on me'' he said with a comforting smile as he took you to the Hostel building and introduced you to the others. Sally and Heather could empathize with the pain you were going through and they all ensured that you were always welcome at theirs no matter what. You can expect Eli to have a few 'words' with your parents and don't question where the blood on his fists came from. It's for your protection after all and it makes him seethe that the very people who were supposed to love you and protect you hurt you so much, he can't stand someone he loves being hurt and abused like this 

Scenario 2: You could be a student of whatever department you wanted to major in and while you were heading back home one fine day, you spotted a pudgy baby with brown hair and a little stuffed teddy bear in her little arms as she was about to head out on the road by herself when a speeding car was approaching her. Your mind immediately screamed at you to save the baby as you grabbed her and cradled her in your arms and you heaved a sigh of relief. She started cooing at you and giggling as you sighed at her and looked at her and pinched her cheeks. "I bet you give your parents a hard time huh little one?" you asked with a soft smile. You decided to stick around to wait for her parental figure to arrive as you sat down on the park bench and handed her a lollipop. A while later you spotted someone familiar rushing over to the park, yelling out "YENNA" desperately as his blonde hair fell on his face and looked stressed out. You looked surprised to see him as he looked relieved to see his daughter in your arms. "That's Yenna, she's my daughter. Thank you so much for looking after her'' he said with a relieved smile. Eli and you weren't too close before this incident but after this, you guys closer to each other. He couldn't have been more grateful that his daughter was in the hands of someone responsible and caring 

Out of all the people, he might be the one to become possessive and obsessive of you quite fast in a short period of time and rightfully so with all the nonsense he's had to endure so far in his life. He's already lost important people in his life, he can't afford to lose you as well. His paranoia for your safety keeps growing because of all the increased violence and gang stuff happening around the city and his ultimate agenda is to keep you safe. He'll start stalking the HELL out of you, acting like your guardian angel in the dark. He does get increasingly concerned and worried when he realizes how naive you are about you are about your surroundings, he's dragged people by their heads and beat them senseless because those lousy scumbags dared to try following you. He realized that he needs to step up and be your protector and take care of you since you obviously can't do it yourself

He's like a fussing mother hen, he'll never let it go if you skip out on your meals or if you forget to hydrate yourself. He'll keep pestering you and lecturing you in a stern authoritative dad like commanding tone to obey him and not neglect your health like this. Look, he might love you and care for you but he will NOT compromise on your safety and health, he does want a family with you after all. He'll end up kidnapping you quicker than expected and it's not like you can snitch on him to his friends from the Hostel either, they're all a FAMILY, Sally would just be in her own little world gushing about how lucky you are for Eli loving you so much and Warren would narrow his eyes slightly warning you silently not to try escaping from him and would end up telling you Eli's sob story and his past so you'll stay with him. Max and Derek would have the same approach as them as well, delusional and agreeing with Eli for everything 

Eli will know everything about you, he'd have memorized your habits and he'll also being a really clingy yandere too, he can't bear to be away from you. He NEEDS you like a dying man needing air and if he loses you, he'll go insane. I want to say I pity the poor fool who dares to try taking you away from him but they'll just be asking for a literal death wish at this point when it comes to him. He'll grow enraged at the thought of someone trying to steal you away from him, it makes him LIVID, HOW DARE THEY?! His mind will be reeling with thoughts of rage and anger as he uses his baton or his own fists and fights them till the other person is on the verge of actually dying. He was trained by a psychotic fighting obsessed maniac Tom Lee after all, he'll use his brutality against his opponent and go for the eyes, pressure points, everything. He doesn't care if it's not a fair fight either, just the mere thought of someone taking who he loves sends him into a frenzy of anger 

You'll be kidnapped by him really soon and he'll understand if you scream or cry, he's not some kind of monster who can't relate to how you feel but please don't be sad, you're making him sad with your sadness too and he feels his heart breaking when he sees you crying. He'll just hold you and pull you close to his strong muscular chest and gently shush you and soothe you to calm you down. He might slip in a few sedatives to make you drowsy but he believes a good and nice nap would make you less cranky. He'll kiss your head softly and caress your cheek lovingly as he'll hold you in his arms while you sleep

He has his eyes and ears everywhere, he's the Big Daddy of Hostel after all, ALL the runaway kids in the area know about him. The second you manage to slip out of his house, you better PRAY someone doesn't recognize you else they'll immediately inform him about your little escape attempt. Eli will be really mad at you for escaping from him and he'll just carry you in his arms with a cold stern look in his eyes which is far different from the usual lovesick loving look he'll have for you. Your internet privileges will be gone for a whole month and he'll start lecturing you on how you're supposed to set an example for Yenna and how could you just abandon him like this when he loved you so much. For your sake, don't answer back to him, he's already mad enough, at this point it would just be like you adding more fuel to the fire. He wont' hesitate to discipline you and spank you like you're some bratty naughty kid that needs to be put in place. Don't worry, he'll cuddle with you after that and make you your favorite thing to eat while saying things like how he'll make sure you never leave him again. 

He might be a stern authoritative disciplinarian at times but he does have his soft moments with you, he loves holding you in his arms and kissing your neck, cheeks, lips and running his fingers through your hair. He's more than happy to be your hair dresser if you want and his skills will improve as he'll give you a stylish hairstyle. He'll love to cook for you as well and his heart feels like it'll melt when he sees you cooking with your cute little apron. He'll immediately hug you from the back and nuzzle his cheek to yours as he tells you how much he loves you and kisses you while being held in his strong arms.You really should have kept a better eye on your surroundings...

[angellurgy2]

Wormom

new story time ^-^ trying out some weirder shit this time

content: worms and abusive mothering. thats all you need to know

_____________________________

doll’s mother is not a good person. she never was. since the day of her birth, her mother looked down at her with disgust. her father used to “joke” all the time about how she begged him to go into the nursery and switch doll with another baby. that was before he left too. not that he helped, his presence meant mom just had to dodge his gaze. go behind closed doors with her evil. though he wasn’t good in his paternal behaviour either, one of doll’s few comforts is knowing her father hated her mother too. it’s been just them for an infinitely long amount of time now, closely quarted, virile disgust insulated inside and left to stew. it swiftly became prey locked in with predator, like leaving a cat alone with a fish bowl, or letting a child wander into the tiger cage.

the marble kitchen island quakes as two boney white hands slam down in front of doll’s sunken face. mother screaches like a harpy. decades of cigarette smoke and opiate usage slowly abrading her insides have left her with an ever-present coalegenic grate to her voice that has haunted doll’s ears her entire life.

PAY ATTENTION

doll’s needed for something today, so says mother. her calloused and torched hands grasp fiendishly at the black sleeves of doll’s hoodie and pull her off of her seat, sending her crashing into the filthy linoleum floor. pathetic, vertigous doll. waste of a skeletal structure. her mom forces her back up onto her mushy patellas by her ragged hair.

HURRY UP

dirt is picked up along doll’s skin, musky carpet scraping into her. stains and dust and filth writhe up her body horribly.

* * *

a shiny porcelain bowl sits atop a black coffee table directly in front of doll’s eyes. she remembers picking that up from that weird swedish store with her, shortly after dad left taking all the good furniture with him. it was floor cereal for months before they had it. though table cereal wasn’t much better the way she made it.

doll’s face is hidden behind her shivering sleeves. mother forces them away. she grabs the bowl and places it on the floor by doll’s feet. her talons dig into doll’s tremoring shoulders. doll's on her knees, clenching her eyes.

no no no. no no no no no.

I MADE YOU MY FAVOURITE.

scaly fingers pry open her eyelids. the inside of the bowl isn’t clean like the outside, dirt ladens it’s walls. dozens of pink digits wriggle around each other inside. a thick living pasta, crawling for the bits of ground remnants. it’s almost hypnotic. doll can feel herself shaking uncontrollably. her vision spirals and blurs with scolecic tears.

EAT YOUR BREAKFAST.

doll won’t. a river flows down her face torching her eyes. she shakes her head finally managing to force the hydraulics controlling her will to do their job.

DIDN’T YOU WANT ME TO BE NICE? HOW ARE YOU ALWAYS SO UNGRATEFUL.

it’s voice burns with hot breath, searing and rotten like her teeth.

the doll pulls back, but extremities tangled through her long ungroomed hair keep her stuck, lest she rip it out. the voice gets closer. the sound of heavy haggard breathing flooding her senses. she would flail, if she had any fuel left inside of her.

please.

the hand pushes her in.

EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT EAT IT NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW

tubular pink slime glides across every inch of her soft face, coating her in greasy red worm juice. her lips remain closed until the food begins to search for other orifices. shut eyelids begin to feel probing tips, desperately trying to dig under the grass of her eyelashes and into the supple earth beneath. like rats in a bucket. then mother’s other hand reaches into view from the void behind. hands gripping the rubbery flesh inbetween her lips tight, pushing and pushing and pushing her sharp black nails stained yellow into her poor skin. doll can’t take it, her mother’s going to force her jaw open any second. she can’t take it she can’t take it she opens her mouth to scream STO P STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP PLEASE MOM (she almost bursts out into even more tears just calling her mom) NONO-

and her screams are stifled with a wave of annelid suffocation.

and they don’t stop wriggling inside her until the last one is left worming at the bottom of the bowl. she can feel every inch of their slothful slime dripped crawls down her pipes, hear their shrill dying screams as they melt in her acidic antechamber.

the brown worms atop doll’s head are pulled taught, back up into the air. juice and saliva drool down her quivering chin. mother picks the last surviving soldier out of the trough, dangling him above doll’s mouth, tantalizing her, her baby bird, unwanted but fed. all you are is a baby cuckoo, a brood parasite, locked in the nest with a ‘mother’ who knows exactly what you are. it only makes sense that she has treated you so.

mother slowly lowers the worm into doll’s tear pit of a mouth. its head or tail flails with reckless abandon, excited to be let loose into this dark, wet tunnel. back inside the dirtwomb.

it falls, and doll can tell it does enjoy it. almost as much as her mother.

[notmorbid]

the trouble with happiness.

dialogue prompts from the trouble with happiness: and other stories by tove ditlevsen.

you always ruin things for us.

i've never owned an umbrella.

why were you staring out the window?

you always have been ungrateful.

i'm going to tell my mother.

it wasn't true. i was just drunk.

what are you thinking about?

i want you back the way you were before.

if you feel betrayed, you are betrayed.

hate is just as senseless as love.

it's not really accurate to call you a lady.

do you look like your mother or your father?

is it too late to go to the woods?

people are going to make fun of you.

when you're asleep, you can't be afraid.

what do you want to be when you grow up?

you always have to tell a child the truth.

fathers always forget their children when they haven't seen them for a long time.

no one could say you're impolite.

don't demand much, and you'll get more.

love and marriage rarely have anything to do with one another.

loving someone can't be helped. it comes and goes, like whooping cough.

you're so healthy and well-adjusted.

it's a shame it affects other people, when you feel a certain way.

i've never seen you cry before.

either you use people or they use you.

half our lives is habit.

i'm not going to be controlled by chance.

you don't have to make up silly stories.

don't you think i see what's happening?

has something horrible happened? you look like it.

don't you think it would be nice to have a little cat?

you could try to look a little friendlier.

you don't even know the person you're married to.

what's true for one person isn't necessarily true for other people.

it's a good thing you can think for both of us.

you always were the pride of the family.

you aren't sick, are you?

you can come down off your high horse.

the past never seems real.

can you ever really know your children?

you can't control your circumstances. you can't control your fate.

how? where? when? do you have any hickeys?

it's not like you to be so quiet. aren't you feeling well?

no one really knows the impression they make.

we only bring out in others what we need ourselves.

no love lasts forever.

it's always later than we think.

you should have lived a very different life.

get the doctor, quick.

fight for all you hold dear.

it doesn't matter who you marry.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Harriet Vane: Peter, have you ever considered this?

Lord Peter Wimsey: What?

Harriet Vane: Harriet Vane, murder suspect.

Lord Peter Wimsey: oh, really!

Harriet Vane: No, listen. Personal characteristics: once tried for the murder of her lover, and acquitted by the skin of her teeth. Says she found Alexis death at 2.10 but can bring no evidence to prove that she did not see him alive. Took three hours to walk 4 and a half miles to inform the police. Is the sole witness to the finding of the razor, the time of the death, and the conditions of the flat iron. Was immediately suspected by Perkins and is probably still suspected by the police.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Nonsense, Harriet. I really...

Harriet Vane: who have been searching her room.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Have them, by Jove!

Harriet Vane: yes. Don't look like that. They couldn't very well do anything else, could they.

Lord peter Wimsey: I have something to say to Umplety.

Harriet Vane: No, you can spare me that.

Lord Peter Wimsey: But it is absurd!

Harriet Vane: It is not! Do you think I'm witless? Do you think I don't know why you came galloping down here at a five minutes notice? It was very nice of you and I should be grateful, but do you think I like it? You thought I was pretty brazen, I expect, when you found me getting publicity out of the thing. So I was. There's no choice for a person like me to be anything but brazen. I can't hide my name, it's what I live by. If I did hide it it would only be another suspicious circumstance, wouldn't it? But do you think it makes matters any more agreeable to know that it is only the patronage of Lord Peter Wimsey that prevent men like Umplety from being openly hostile?

Lord Peter Wimsey: I've been afraid of that.

Harriet Vane: Then why did you come?

Lord Peter Wimsey: So that you might not have to send for me.

Harriet Vane: Oh. Now, of course, everybody will say "look what he's doing for that woman, isn't it marvelous of him? I suppose every man thinks he's only to go on being superior, and any woman will come tumbling into his arms. It's disgusting.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Thank you. I may be everything you say, patronizing, interfering, conceited, intolerable and all the rest of it, but do give me credit for a little intelligence. Do you think I don't know all that? Do you think it is pleasant for any man who feels about a woman as I do about you to fight his way along under this detestable burden of gratitude? Damn it! Do you think I don't know perfectly well that I'd have a better chance if I was deaf, blind, maimed, starving, drunk or dissolute, so that you could have the fun of being magnanimous? Why do you think I treat my own sincerest feelings like something out of a comic opera if it isn't to save myself the bitter humiliation of seeing you try not to be utterly nauseated by them?

Harriet Vane: No, don't talk like that.

Lord Peter Wimsey: I wouldn't if you didn't force me to. And you might have the justice of remembering you can hurt me a damn side more than I can possibly hurt you.

Harriet Vane: I know I'm being horribly ungrateful.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Grateful! Good God am I never to get away from the bleat of that filthy adjective? I don't want gratitude! I don't want kindness! I don't want sentimentality! I don't even want love -I could make you give me that, of a sort-; I want common honesty.

Harriet Vane: Do you? But that's what I've always wanted. I don't think it is to be got.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Alright. I can respect that. Only you have got to play the game. Don't force an emotional situation and then blame me for it.

Harriet Vane: But I don't want any situation. I want to be left in peace.

Lord Peter Wimsey: But you are not a peaceful person.

Harriet Vane: Perhaps not, but all this is so dreary and exhausting.

Lord Peter Wimsey: Call me anything you like, but not dreary! Great Scott that I have been boring you interminably for 18 months on end! I know you once said that if anybody ever married me it would be for the sake of hearing me piffle on, but I expect that kind of thing pulls after a bit.

Harriet Vane: *laughs*

Lord Peter Wimsey: I'm babbling, I know I'm babbling, what on Earth am I to do about it?

Harriet Vane: oh, it's not fair, you always make me laugh. I can't fight, I'm so tired. You don't seem to know what being tired is. Stop. Let go. I won't be bullied, Peter, I won't be bullied! And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make myself ready for an appointment.

Excuse me, I'll be right here stuffing my face into a pillow.

[compassionatereminders]

hi this is just a vent because i cant stop feeling bad about certain things its pretty disjointed. feel free to ignore. thank you for the space for this and the patience and kindness you consistently show. it feels isolating in disabled communities sometimes as someone who was medically neglected and falls into the margins of certain diagnoses and is still undiagnosed for autism and never received any official help, it was all off the books type stuff or i simply suffered/failed in silence. i feel like im not "anything" enough to be real or deserve help or community. that my existence is disrespectful or appropriative of the people who have more "real" experiences that should be listened to and lifted up more than me. that i got the "disability lite" experience somehow and would be misleading others if i claimed to be similar to them. "who needs more of some probably low support needs person ranting about their hurt little feelings, dont we have enough?" < evil thing my brain likes to tell me. i dont actually know what my support needs are its all very confusing and apparently only something a doctor can tell you. but i see people say that LSN level 1 autistics are always speaking over people and taking up too much space, and i get paranoid, am i doing that?! is that me? of course feeling this way just makes me more guilty. nobody has it easy, and you cant compare experiences. i know this. but i still feel like im not allowed. im taking something away from people who need it more. its not rational but im consumed by it at times. i had the difficulties of others used to guilt me into doing things as a child and to explain why i should be able to do something. have been dismissed by caregivers and doctors when i finally got brave enough and learned the right language to bring something up. so i just gave up. if i really needed it that badly, if it really was that disabling, someone would have noticed right? people like that dont just fall through the cracks do they? it's prevented me from seeking out local resources like day programs because they have waitlists, though they dont require diagnosis. all i can think is that im some ungrateful low support person whose taking something from someone who needs it more. and thats a horrible thought to have about myself or anyone and not a real thing that even happens. even a word to describe my experience feels like its asking for too much. i haven't even sought out SSI. even though ive never finished school or went to college, had a job, cant drive cant work, and only get by because i have very nice people in my life supporting me financially. i know how long it takes (im usa) to get on SSI. and how likely it is to get denied even with all the qualifiers above. how invasive and invalidating it is. dont know if i can take that process. but i also need more independence and help than im getting right now, because my issues are worsening as i age and i just cant do things or really live life. but it all feels like its not enough, even though i know theres nothing that WOULD ever be enough. thanks for listening.

This is internalized ableism in action. 1. All kinds of people fall through the cracks of the system. All kinds of people, with all kinds of disabilities, of all kinds of severities. 2. The idea that only the most impaired people deserve support and accommodations is far more harmful to ALL disabled people than the alternative. Disability is not a competition, and turning it into one hurts everyone. 2. Having low support needs doesn't equal having no support needs. And you clearly do have support needs that you deserve to have accommodated.

[thetownwecallhome]

Worst Nightmare Before Christmas criticisms I've ever heard:

(( OOC. paraphrazed and not linking to exact sources but:

>"Why is everyone singing?" >"Why does this music sound like something out of maralyn manson?" >"Sally's such a dunce; she's too stupid to get herself out of those ropes at the end." >"Halloween and Jack don't do anything for their holiday why should they ever have to complain about work?" >"Sally's such a [derogatory wymen word]!" >"The Christmas Town elves are disturbing to look at they're so creepy and unsettling." >"Jack is an incel." >"Sally's useless and all she ever does is swoon over Jack. She cares about nothing else and just has to be saved by him all the time. Ick." >"Sally is completely reliant on Jack she's completely codependent on him, actually." >"Jack Skellington's an expression-less stick man of a character. He's a nothing burger." >"This movie's message amounts to "stay in your place/don't stray from the norm'' when you really think about it. Pretty messed up there, Didney." >"Sally's so ungrateful and cruel to Jack and not supportive of his Christmas thing." >"Santa's so mean and angry and bitter and Jack would make a better Santa." >"Sally's such an ungrateful daughter to Dr. Finkelstein. How dare she want to escape; Fink's just protective, I swear." >"Jack's Christmas was actually better and Jack should have been allowed to do what he wanted cuz Jack actually really didn't do anything wrong."

PSA time kids: If someone you know says they don't really get/like/are annoyed by Nightmare Before Christmas because of x, x, and x reasons, the correct response is to let them keep that opinion. They're not arguing about out? Don't argue about it. Be adults, kids. Hatedom =/= criticism. People can appreciate something and just not personally like it that much (like me and Invader Zim or Rocky Horror) or even like it but also be able to point out the flaws in it (like me and Monster High). What's important is that this someone accepts that YOU love this thing, while YOU respect THEIR boundaries and not try to make them "see your way". --Not to get off track, but nothing makes someone ACTUALLY resent your special interest than you being really aggressive and demanding about it to them--

Within fandom, especially your own, I think you should be able to spot actual "hatedom" when you see it -and/or, ascertain what makes a bad take actually bad vs a take you just have to disagree with.

For me a bad take is: actively misreading the text/refusing to engage with text on it's own terms; inserting yourself where the text is asking you NOT to; being a jerk about your opinion like you have the one take to rule them all; and finally; coming in with a toxic badfaith/badtake cocktail and not even caring that you're doing so. This is what so many of the worst takes surrounding TNBC amount.

The "Jack is an emotion-less nothingburger of a character" is the one that perplexes me the most. I only ever saw that one once on a "cult movies that are actually not good"-site article. Feel whatever way you want about Jack as a character but I have no idea how you look at that guy and think "no personality" or even no EXPRESSION.

Ya killing me, smalls. ))

What a genuinely horrible rant there!

[ahundredtimesover]

can i be honest? i don’t like oc at all.

she always complains about how her new boss (jk) is so rude and doesn’t know how to appreciate someone’s work when in reality he isn’t rude and actually cares far more about his employees work than her or hobi ever did in this story. this is his family‘s company and i would be strict and disciplined too if you asked me bc i won’t ever play around about MY work and the time and effort i would‘ve to put into it just for some people to come and break it down. no she needs to stop being ungrateful and stop having this ridiculous view of how a CEO has to be friends with their assistant when that’s actually very unprofessional and stupid bc imagine you are being the CEO‘s (hobi)‘s friend (in which she was before jk became the new boss) and he gives you extra credit for stuff you didn’t even deserve but he does it anyway bc he’s friends with you and you don’t question it or you as the boss have to be strict and tell them what they did is wrong but you can’t because you know that it’s your friend and you don’t want to hurt them. i wouldn’t ever want my friends to work for me it just makes stuff too complicated bc if i have to be extra nice to my friends then i have to be extra nice for my other employees too and that’s not how a company works. i mean the fact that jungkook choose to adjust his work environment for her only bc she felt she wasn’t good enough and needed support from hobi, jk’s father, her family, friends and coworkers when this isn’t a playground but a whole company we’re talking about is ridiculous. she also wants him to spent his own money on his employees and her for having a meal even though everybody can go and eat for themselves at the company canteen? why should he do all of this (something hobi did) just to show them that he appreciates their work when he can just say thank you and have a dinner arranged whenever their projects have been successful?why does she feel the need to always compare him to hobi just bc shit doesn’t go her way but then acts surprised when he answers her that he isn’t hobi? what kind of mindest is this she has lol?

also she still counties to talk bad behind his back even though he told her to stop but then she wants HIM to be respectful towards her? oh but this isn’t everything i also don’t understand how HER hookups interfere whenever she’s at work but he has to suck it up as a CEO for putting his work in danger bc what? she’s unlucky? like do you understand why i don’t like her as his assistant and as a human being? it’s always okay for her to make mistakes but when jungkook does it it’s bc he’s such a rude human being? like what 😂 also the fact that nobody cares enough about him to sit down and listen about why he’s so cold and focused only on work but he has to be more mindful and understanding when it comes to her is hypocritical especially hobi he’s at the top of the list bc one she’s an assistant not the ceo which means he has far more to loose than her and two where was this energy whenever he needed help with his father or why didn’t anyone reach out to him when he needed an actually friend? see this is why i won’t ever have sympathy for her or anyone else in this story they all question his character but never why nobody was there for him when all of this horrible stuff with his father happened or made him become this cold person. she just makes no sense at all and i also don’t care about her personal life when everybody has problems at work or outside of it bc even jungkook for example makes sure to wake up everyday to go through his notes something hobi never did with her before. im on jungkooks side in this fic, bc dude‘s wild side only appears OFF WORK and not WHILE AT WORK so he has every right to hookup with whom he wants. he still isn’t unprofessional like her.

im sorry for writing so much but before i go i wanted to say that you’re an incredible writer and i hope you never stop (🥺)! i appreciate the fact that you always share your amazing work with us and i really really love your story’s so im already patiently waiting for the new chapter! have a great day. ☺️🤍

Hi, I appreciate this passion towards my story! Although, I'll point out a few things (and this might be a spoiler for some).

First thing, the company CEO is JK's father. Hoseok is the President and is part of the family bc his mother is the CEO's sister. JK is the Vice President, and both men are being primed to co-lead the company. So ALL of them demand excellence from their employees, not just JK. And all staff give that; no one from the team, especially OC who's proved how well she works, is breaking any of that down.

OC doesn't demand for the executives to be friendly towards them. The CEO and Hoseok want that culture. I'm not sure where you got the claims that someone is giving extra credit bc they're friends with the employees? It's a cordial environment. There's so much talk about the hecticness of everything but that everyone's pulling their weight and delivering exceptionally, so who's being ungrateful? Hoseok was friendly with everyone, but especially OC because she's his EA, so they're definitely a lot closer.

JK didn't adjust his work environment bc OC felt she wasn't good enough. He did that on his own bc he felt guilty with the way he treated her after learning how hard she works but that she doesn't make excuses for her shortcomings, even if shit was happening in her personal life. (And also bc he’s attracted to her like, that was established in ch1).

OC doesn't "want" JK to spend for their food. Again, team culture. The comparisons are natural, and something OC admitted was wrong. Characters are allowed to develop in a story, the same way with JK who doesn't show his gratitude to his team but eventually learns to do that.

Nobody cares enough about JK to sit down and listen about why he’s so cold and focused only on work -- this is the whole point of the story, which has been mentioned so many times. OC is literally the one person who's being understanding about it.

I get that you don't care about her personal life but this is a JK x OC story, of course the focus would be on their personal lives.

Also, yes, JK has every right to hook up with whoever he wants, nobody questions that?? And OC's exes showing up isn't her fault?? And it’s a boss x assistant fic so things are obviously going to be unprofessional 😭😭

All this to say that this is fanfiction but I tried to make the company culture and work approach and characters as real as possible (aka flawed). I'm also pretty overwhelmed by this amount of hatred for a character like, disliking her as an assistant and a human being?? This actually makes me sad (definitely not a great day haha 😅) but then again, I never write perfect characters, and I shouldn't expect that they'd be loved or appreciated all the time. I'm always very protective of them though so I hope you understand that I'm being a bit defensive bc this is alot to say for a story that isn't finished yet and where the characters are still on a journey. This isn’t to say you aren’t allowed to criticize them but this is just… a lot. You did say you love the story so is it ok if you share what you love about it?

But also, it makes me wonder if you still want to continue reading? Bc there's gonna be more of the people you dislike in this story, there's gonna be more about OC's personal life, there's gonna be more mistakes and miscommunication, and JK and OC are gonna end up together... 😬😬