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#so my parents spent all that effort and money for nothing and i really just want to break down and cry and say sorry

gojorgeous · 5 months

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

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wosoamazing · 28 days

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Portugal Training Camp & Roommates

Part 4 - Fire on Fire Series

It was your first day in Portugal, meaning you were now also officially part of the team, having joined the first team training session of the year in the morning, spending the afternoon on the beach with the girls, as this wasn't an official team trip for competitions you had roommates. Leah was yours, you didn't quite know what to think of it but it couldn't be a bad thing. Right?

After dinner the team spent some time outside before all heading to their respective rooms for sleep. However you weren't asleep, and from the amount of rustling coming from Leah's bed she wasn't either. However unlike her you were still, as you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling, you couldn't get the 2 missed calls from both your parents each out of your head, they hadn't called you in years, let alone messaged, so why now? You couldn't understand, until you spoke to your Moster before dinner. She had informed you that they wanted to talk to you, apologise for what they had done, now realising that they did the wrong thing when you were younger. But you couldn't fathom the sudden change in beliefs. They had to have an ulterior motive. Leah must've realised you were awake at some stage, as you noticed her move onto her side, resting on her elbow as she brought your attention to you.

"What's wrong?" She questioned, the sudden words slightly scaring you.

"Nothing," you tried brushing her off, as if she would care about your problems.

"I can tell something is bothering you, you can just talk and I can listen if you want"

"My parents want to talk to me," you spat out, "oh," you turned to face her, mirroring her position.

"I've haven't seen or heard from them for years, the last time they contacted me was before, well, um, no it doesn't matter, but every time the have contacted me since I moved out they have thrown things at me, they even offered to buy me a penthouse apartment in New York if I quit football and did a PHD. They don't believe someone can be successful unless they like have a PHD basically. I moved out when I was almost 11. My Aunt says they are reaching out to say sorry but I find that hard to believe after all these years,"

"Why don't you just message them, ask them to come to one of our games."

"Yeah I suppose, I mean if they aren't really determined with whatever they are planning on doing they won't come, it would be time much time, effort and money otherwise," the fell into a silence before you blurted out, "They were the reason I wasn't getting played, they were paying the club money as a support under essentially a fake company, they figured if I wasn;t getting played I would fall out of love with the sport, but it clearly didn't work." "I'm sorry, that's unfair, you're a really great player, and your aunts must be good people, as you've turned out to be an amazing human," Leah started to ramble as she got anxious. You were glad there wasn't much light in the room as you felt yourself blush.

"Thank you, good night," "night," you rolled over and eventually fell asleep.

_____

The training staff decided that they were going to do fitness testing, the beep test included, you had been going for quite some time you, Lotte and Emily were the only ones currently still going, the rest of the team had either stopped or been pulled out by the medics or trainers so they didn't over do themselves.

"How?" Lotted huffed out as she doubled over trying to catch her breath, having given up, you on the other hand looked like you were still just doing a light jog.

"Okay Y/N, we're stopping you there, sit down and make sure to have plenty of water, we're also going to get you an electrolyte drink," you huffed in annoyance but complied and walked over to were Leah was sitting on the sidelines, taking a seat next to her, she lent towards you with her arms open ready for a hug.

"I don't think you want to do that, I'm like seriously sweaty," You warned her, "That performance deserves a hug, no matter how sweaty," you laughed as you lent in briefly hugging her, before moving to lie down, your legs still bent up, "you weren't wrong about being sweaty," she joked causing you to laugh "I did warn you,".

You and Leah were alone, as she watched the rest of the team do the other tests, you were recovering lying on the grass, with a towel over your eyes to protect them from the burning sun. "How did you do that though? Are you actually fine?" Leah asked, ever so slightly concerned, she didn't want you to be overworking yourself due to being new, "I could've kept going if it wasn't so hot, or the fact that I wasn't stopped," you said and she nodded, not that you could see though, you were informed you couldn't continue testing until you had cooled down the medics not wanting to risk you getting heat stroke, however there was no way that was going to happen anytime soon, due to the scorching sun, "Can we go inside for a bit? Speed up the cooling down process," you asked her as you pulled the towel off your eyes, lifting you head slightly to look at her, "Sure," you stood up quickly, and turned to Leah who had reached her hands out for you to grab and help her up, "you haven't done any testing today, you should be the one helping me up" you joked, and she pushed you playfully once she was standing, "that's no way to treat someone who just helped you up," "oh shut up," she said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulders pulling you into her side as you walked.

_____

"I don't even know why you like playing them, they're so boring," you said as you sat down next to Leah on one of the sun loungers, you had to admit they were really strange sun loungers, as they were double ones, for some reason meaning two people had to sit on one, but it didn't matter too much as the team was close.

"They use my brain, keep me smart," she teased "Don't want you falling behind the rest of us I suppose," you teased her back, "Oh shut up, just because you duxed," you stuck your tongue out at her before pulling out your phone to message some people, until Leah managed to rope you into helping her do sudokus, you both giggled away as you spoke, before you were interrupted by Beth, "Why wasn't I invited?" she whined "We're doing sudokus," you explained, "oh ew, what movie are we watching tonight?" she asked, not getting a response.

"Beth," you both whined as you looked over to her who just shrugged her shoulders, "what?" she knew what, she just sent a message to the team asking when everyone else would be out because she felt like a third wheel with you two. Before long the whole team was outside and the movie had started, they had decided on ABBA which you didn't really like and so you quickly found yourself succumbing to your exhaustion from the day. Your eyelids opened around half an hour later and you realised you had moved closer to Leah and snuggled into her side while you slept, she had her arm out around your shoulders, "Oh sorry," you groggily spoke as you lifted your head preparing to move, "Oh, it's fine don't worry, you don't have to move if you don't want to, it's more warm like this too," she said softly smiling as her eyes stayed on the screen, you let out a small hum before placing your head back on her shoulder and quickly drifting off again.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #wosoamazing fireonfire

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vanteguccir · 4 months

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destructive home | m. sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt helps Y/N get through an anxiety attack.

Requested?: Yes, on Wattpad.

Warning: Anxiety attack, panic attack, toxic home, toxic father, fighting between parents.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N closed her eyes tightly feeling her head spin from the loud voices coming from downstairs. Unfortunately, her parents fighting was nothing new, and even less so was her father starting the fight.

Y/N's father has always been the type of father who is physically present but emotionally absent, living in the same house as the girl since her birth, but never really playing the role of a kind and welcoming father.

Quite the contrary, her father has always been a very demanding and controlling man, Y/N having witnessed his first attack of stress when she was just a week old, when her mother cooked lunch for both of them, but couldn't bear to eat everything on her plate due to the exhaustion of being a first-time mother, and her father started a series of screams demanding that she eat all the food, after all "he pays the house bills and the food in the cupboard and refrigerator and didn't want to see anything being wasted", ignoring completely the scandalous crying of the little girl, who understood nothing at the time.

And it was exactly in an environment like this that Y/N grew up, learning that staying silent all the time at home prevented fights from reaching huge peaks, but suffering the consequences with the fights inside her head, which grew more and more. With all of this, the girl ended up developing panic attacks and severe anxiety, which she only discovered through a quick diagnosis from her school psychologist, as her father refused to pay for a consultation for her and her mother did not have enough money to do it.

Y/N grew up with constant fights outside and inside her head, experiencing the most bitter moments inside her own home, where she had to face her anxiety attacks alone on the floor of her room, muffling the loud sounds of her sobs with pillows.

But whoever was listening to her cry through all this time, listened to her prayers and sent an angel into her life. Y/N met Matt two years ago in a cafe in the city completely by accident, the barista at the cafe ended up getting confused with their orders and handed Matt's to Y/N and vice versa, the two only realizing it after the first sip.

And since then Y/N no longer had to face her fears alone, her refuge in difficult times stopped being her cold and lonely bed and became Matt, with whom she could lean on in all the sad and happy moments too, and the best thing being that she, having experience with herself, could help him with his own anxiety attacks, the two of them moving towards a better mental place together.

But despite the willpower to improve and all the effort, there were days when it became more difficult. Y/N had woken up that morning with a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy head, feeling like something was going to happen, and she wasn't wrong.

The day went by with a heavy air, the girl staying at home all day since it was a Sunday and Matt spent the day filming with his brothers the podcast that would be posted the next day, and all the weight that lived in the walls of her house seemed to have been transferred to Y/N's back, she couldn't remember the last time she felt that, and the fact that she wouldn't see Matt that day only made it worse.

At the end of the day Y/N understood why she woke up with the heavy feeling. Her mother was cooking something in the kitchen for dinner that would be served soon, which the girl was sure she would just grab a plate and go up to her room to eat alone, but during the process of making the food, her mother let some glass escape from her hands, making a thunderous noise.

Y/N was startled by the sound, getting up and running downstairs without thinking, just worried about her mother and wanting to understand what had happened, but while the girl calmed her mother who seemed in shock over the broken plate, her mind began to scream danger.

Seconds later the sounds of heavy footsteps became present and it didn't take long for the male screams to be heard, her father releasing several curses along with insults towards her mother and, consequently, towards herself as well.

Y/N felt numb, her father's voice becoming a background sound as a buzzing settled in her head. The girl wasted no time and ran upstairs, all she wanted was to get away from the fight.

It didn't take much more than a minute and she found herself closing the door with a bang, throwing herself on the floor next to her bed and curling up in a fetal position, her throat making horrible sounds as she tried to draw in air, which never seemed to come enough.

Her heart was beating fast and her hands were shaking tirelessly.

In a moment of sanity, the girl crawled to the end of her bed to get her phone, thinking about the only one who could help her at the moment. Her fingers raced to the emergency contacts, seeing only one in the listing, Matt.

She quickly clicked it, putting it on speaker and dropping the phone on the floor.

"Hello my love, we're almost done here. I was thinking about calling you next, what do you think about... Y/N?" The boy answered with a smile in his voice, stopping talking when he noticed a sound like a strangulation in the background. "Y/N? Baby, please, what's going on?" He asked desperately, standing up quickly from his seat in the recording room on the other side of the phone, fully gaining his brothers' attention.

The girl couldn't respond, barely able to hear him properly, her mind just processing that she needed air, her eyes closed tightly as she felt as if her room was shrinking in size around herself.

"Baby stay with me, I'm coming, I'm coming. Stay with me..."

The male voice seemed to come and go in Y/N's ears, and what took less than 10 minutes seemed to take hours in her fragile mind. The sound of her bedroom window opening echoed through the room as Matt entered the pink-walled room after climbing the roof of the two-story house, already used to the action.

The boy quickly ran towards his girlfriend, throwing himself on the ground, kneeling next to her and hugging her tightly, trying to bring her mind back.

"I'm here, baby. I'm with you." He whispered incessantly against Y/N's ear, feeling her smaller body tremble against his. "Baby, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Stretch, come on." He spoke, helping her straighten her spine and stretching her legs, leaving her sitting in an L-shaped position. "Can you breathe through your nose for me?" Matt asked, watching carefully his girlfriend's face, feeling his heart tighten at her state, her lips trembling, her cheeks hot and rosy, her face tense and her eyebrows furrowed.

Y/N tried to do as requested, finally being able to identify her boyfriend's voice, but the action seemed to lead nowhere.

"Come on, my love, I know you can do it." He asked in a whisper, feeling his eyes burn with tears. Upon seeing Y/N's difficulty in fulfilling the request, he quickly approached and sealed her lips tightly, briefly remembering when the girl did the same to himself during one of his worst crises.

Y/N stood still, her hands still shaking and her heart beating hard, but her mind seemed to contain itself and the loud noise inside her fell silent.

The girl felt tears roll down her face, opening her eyes, her vision slowly getting used to everything after being in the dark for several minutes. She calmly pulled away from Matt, drawing a breath of air into her lungs, feeling relief at being able to do so.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend's face, seeing him smile in relief as tears rolled down his own eyes.

"Don't cry." She asked weakly, pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing her cheek against his, their tears mixing together.

Matt let out a tearful laugh, sniffling as he brought one of his hands to Y/N's hair, stroking the spot.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thank you Matt." She thanked him, hearing him sigh happily. Y/N snuggled closer into Matt's arms, still not having the strength to get up from the floor and he didn't seem to want to do so yet either.

"I love you so much, my love." He whispered a few minutes later, kissing the top of her head. Matt slowly moved back after getting silence in response, looking at his girlfriend only to see her with her eyes closed and breathing lightly, sleep having taken over her weak body from the intense moment.

The sound of two knocks on the door made him look up, looking intently to the door and ready to protect his girl if necessary, but relief filled his heart when he saw that it was Y/N's mother.

The woman had her face between the door and the frame, ready to check if her daughter was okay after the mess in the kitchen, but her worried features were replaced by a soft smile when she saw her daughter and her boyfriend cradled together.

"Thank you." She whispered truthfully to Matt, earning a nod before carefully closing the door.

The mother walked towards her own room with a light heart, knowing that Matt would do anything to take care of and see her daughter well.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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AITA for not paying for my fiancee's trip?

(Sorry mod, sending this again as I forgot to add an important context detail)

This is going to be long, I'm so sorry!

Okay, so I (23M) am engaged to a very wonderful fiancee (27NB). She's fantastic, and I want to make it very clear that our relationship is great - we have good communication, we never argue, we're always on call without getting tired of each other, etc etc. There is just one issue we have - her financial habits.

For context, I am disabled and can't work due to both mental and physical health issues, so I'm on disability benefits. She can and does work.

We're long-distance (she's in America and I'm in the UK), and we've been dealing with it pretty well so far. At the beginning of our relationship, we agreed that before we got to the point of talking about moving in with each other etc. we would need to have her visit me here at least once to meet my family and get used to how things work here (as she wants to move here), and I would need to visit her at least once to do the same there re: meeting her parents etcetera.

The agreement was that I'd pay for her to come here, and then when it was my turn she'd pay for my visit there so it was fair.

She first visited me about a year and a half ago and came over here for two weeks. I paid for her plane tickets, our transport everywhere (we don't have cars), the AirBNB we stayed in, etc. This ran me about £2k, which was all I had at the time, and I didn't have enough left over to pay for her food on top of that, so I asked if she could cover her own food costs while she was here. This caused a bit of an issue at the time as she was very clearly frustrated at having to do it, and would make comments like "Ugh I wanted a new computer but now I have to save for this trip", "I'm having to sacrifice so much to pay for this" and it made me feel incredibly invalidated, like I was covering everything else and also sacrificing a lot to pay for everything else for us but the one thing I'd asked her to help with was too much. We had a conversation about it at the time and she apologised and said she'd work on it, so we moved on.

Plans changed a bit very early this year, as I was due to get surgery and the friend who was supposed to accompany me there dropped out last minute. I had no one else nearby to turn to and I couldn't go alone (it was the kind of surgery where I would need someone around for at least 1-2 weeks afterwards to help me move around and do daily tasks). As a last ditch effort I asked my fiancee to fly over again and help me out, and I paid for this again which I was completely fine with doing as the trip was a favour for me and it was unplanned from her end. This was another ~£2k.

So cut to summer this year. This was when I was supposed to have my visit over to America. She, at this point, was making pretty good money at a school job. However, when I asked her if we could finalise the plans and buy tickets, she told me that she had no money.

This is where I explain that she's really, REALLY bad with money. She impulse-buys clothes and things for her room etc., she plays gacha games like Genshin Impact and spends quite a lot of money on 'pulls' and the gambling mechanic, things like that. It turned out that through the whole time of having this job she'd been basically spending money as soon as she got it and she now had nothing for the trip. I was admittedly frustrated with her (especially as she initially lied to me and told me she hadn't spent money on games etc. and then later confessed that it IS where the money had gone), but we agreed we could push back the trip to winter/Christmas-time to give her more time to save, and honestly I didn't really mind because I've never spent Christmas/New Year with anyone before, so shifting the visit to over those days would be a nice experience.

However, soon after this she was fired from her job for too many call-outs/absences. For the next few months, she didn't get another job - she said she was doing all she could and was applying for, but I often got the impression that she wasn't and was sort of throwing out an application every few weeks and then writing it off as 'done', which I could be completely misinterpreting so take that with a grain of salt. I kept pushing her to get a job so we could get the trip sorted out and I know she got kind of frustrated with me a few times for it.

I ended up giving up the closer we got to the time and offered to just cover it again if she could pay me back when she did get a job, and she agreed.

Unfortunately, after this I was rendered homeless due to my abusive home situation. I was fortunate enough to be offered government housing and I now have an apartment in town, but it's completely unfurnished (literally all that's in it is a single bed and a cooker, there's no flooring or anything yet). I now have to put all the money I have saved (about £3k) towards getting flooring (which is a little over £1k by itself), furnishings, getting the walls painted, sorting out gas and electricity, etc. I'm also now paying the bills for this apartment. As a result, there's no possible way I could afford to cover the trip anymore myself.

It looked like things were getting sorted because my fiancee got another job recently. It's pretty well-paying, she seems to enjoy it so she's not calling out, and she kept prompting me to talk details of the trip with her so it felt like it was all getting figured out and she was ready to finalise it.

Then today I asked her how much money she had ready for it and she said... $15. I'm genuinely lost on how she still hasn't saved any money, she claims she used it all on "bills" but she doesn't pay rent or cover any housing costs as she still lives with her parents, so I don't understand at all where it's all going. We have less than a month before the trip is supposed to happen, nothing is sorted, we still have no clue where we'd be staying, no plane tickets have been purchased, and now it's looking a lot like it's going to have to be pushed back AGAIN to next year.

I thought about trying to pay for it again, because I DO really want that Christmas and New Year with her. Delaying it again would also mess up our future plans, as the plan was to get this trip to America and meeting her family done this year, then spending the first half of next year on the Visa process and then the latter half getting her actually moved over. It also means I would have to delay my college education, as I was going to start my course early next year, which I wouldn't be able to do if the trip is next year instead as it would require me to take weeks off.

If I tried, I probably could cover it - I need to spend the ~£1k on flooring as that's already arranged, but I could technically use the remaining £2k to fund the trip. However, this would mean my house would remain unfurnished and barely habitable for months longer. It's not so bad if I know she'd be able to pay me back quickly, but the reality is that I don't know how long it would take for me to see the money back.

Part of me also feels like she's kind of expecting me to give in and pay for it last minute in order to not delay it, because I offered before and I was willing to pay for the last two trips. But it's just so depressing and frustrating, because it feels like I keep giving things up and putting things into these trips and getting her over here, and trying to get it back from her is just like running into a wall.

We've talked about it before, but she insists there's nothing more she can do, she's trying as hard as she can, and that she's upset about it too. I just don't know what to do about it anymore.

So I guess my question is, AITA for complaining about the trip, missing Christmas/New Year and pushing her on money and nagging her about what she does with hers instead of just taking the L and covering the trip again until she can pay me back?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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that-ineffable-devil · 4 months

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I...need some input, guys (gn). Some outside perspective.

My mother's husband is in liver failure. Like "added to the transplant list as an emergency" failure. Considering his track record, I don't know how he's making it on the list, but regardless there are rising medical bills.

Now for some VERY simplified backstory:

The Husband: my mother married this man after I was a full grown adult with a kid of my own and I've spent very little time with him. What time I HAVE spent with him has alternated between genial/amusing to "I blocked his prejudiced ass so he'd leave me alone." I haven't spoken to him in over 5 years and generally can't stand him. But I don't want him to die.

The Mother: I only spent the first 7 or 8 years of my life with my mother, and most of those memories are repressed under a thick haze of trauma. We're talking "even the memories I do have aren't in any chronological order and I can't remember how old I was when they happened" kind of repression. My most vivid memories of my mother that don't include physical trauma are when she'd call me (when I was a kid) in the middle of the night, drunk, to either apologize/explain that she wasn't that bad of a mom or yell at me for being spoiled and abandoning her. She claims not to remember these events.

We've tried a few times in my adult life to reconnect, but it always goes sour quite quickly. When I came out to her as trans, she immediately rejected the idea and started sending me "transition regret" videos from YouTube and calling my grandmother to yell at her for supporting me.

I told her off and she stopped that. Ever since, she's pretended like nothing happened and started sending me funny videos as if to bridge the gap she created decades ago, while I've been pushing further away because, at this point, I don't want her in my life at all. I don't want to put in the effort when I know I'll only end up hurt in the end.

But then her husband got sick. And just like when I was a little kid, I feel obligated to be there for her. To hold her hand and support her because, I guess, I don't hate her. I don't like her. I don't even know if I really love her. But I don't hate her, and I DO hate when people are hurting.

Then yesterday, she messages me out of the blue asking me to create a GoFundMe for her husband's medical bills. I haven't read the whole message because I don't know how I'm going to respond yet, but I'm feeling really gross about it. She makes very little money, I know, and I don't think he's worked the entire time they've been married, and I know he doesn't have insurance. Maybe it's a moot point, because I feel like if my grandmother finds out, she'll pressure me into doing it, too, and I have an even harder time telling her no.

So, I guess, tl;dr: My transphobic and emotionally manipulative parent wants me to create a GoFundMe for her dying husband's medical bills for reasons, and I'm not sure I want to since I'm trying to go no contact, but I feel obligated to help her because the man is dying and she's suffering. What do I do here? Am I a horrible person for even hesitating?

#I hate to air my own dirty laundry out here #But I feel like I really need an outsider's perspective here #Because I feel like a really shit person for even hesitating on this #Because she DID once create a GoFundMe for me to help me cover moving costs for a new job when I had nothing #She's honestly not the worst person in the world and has been thru a lot #But I don't feel like that justifies the way she's treated me either #And it kinda feels like she's using that one act of kindness as leverage to push me into this #This is just another reason I'm trying to move out of state #I need to get as far away from these people as I possibly can #Also want to add that I am NOT her only kid but I AM the only one she bailed on and treated like a pariah #cw: abuse mention #cw: alcohol mention #cw: death mention #cw: transphobia mention

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sarcasticallyinclined · 3 months

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it is always funny when my dad is like "you always have a place with me and im sure your mom would say the same" and it's like...

1. thanks but i will not be living with you again if i can help it because you cannot keep your goddamn mouth shut about what i eat even when i don't live with you and

2. said mom literally went ok so i know you're deeply depressed with a useless degree and no transportation and we're a few months into a global pandemic and nowhere is safe and everything is uncertain BUT if you don't magically get a job in a month you are not allowed to live here anymore because i just don't think you're really making an effort to take advantage of the non-existent job market and I do not give one shit if you have multiple disorders working against you and I will NOT make any effort to understand

and then kicked me out at the end of the month with zero remorse to go live with my dad as a punishment (which would have genuinely been fine if it weren't explicitly "you are a failure and i don't want you in my house anymore")

and then in the face of my dad (supposedly) imminently moving hundreds of miles away, when I worked with my therapist and spent hours writing a letter asking to move back in and suggesting how we could maybe try to fix our fucked up broken relationship and how I was doing better with medication changes and I even had a remote part time job but it made nowhere enough to live on,

she ignored the entire part about "I am emailing this to you because our in person conversations have been stressful and unproductive and i can't get to everything i want to say because i start crying so can you email me back" and said no let's discuss this in person

and then once we had a stressful unproductive conversation yet again she handed me a letter she had for some reason typed up and printed out

about how no i was not allowed to move back in even if i at the time had no other options lined up and not enough money for anything because she said when I lived there my vibes were too bad from me being idk suicidally depressed and unable to envision a future for myself while millions of people were dying from something with no cure and that was bumming her out to be around

and quoted some shit that was clearly lifted from shitty facebook articles about cutting out toxic friends in your life which were certainly not meant for parents to apply to their own fucking children

and I could fucking frame that letter as the Worst Shit She Has Ever Fucking Said To Me

so no dad, i actually don't think my mom would or will ever say i always have a place with her again

but it sure is convenient how you both like to forget this ever happened and we're all a happy loving supportive family and nothing bad has ever happened

i sure am glad my mom is now the only family member within hundreds of miles and the only adult I have to rely on so that we can pretend every two weeks that we're a happy mother daughter duo and there isn't minimum thirteen years of bullshit she's happy to leave buried and never ever address

and i just have to personally live with all this shit and know that she will die before i ever get closure because any conversation about it would be exactly as unproductive as when the shit originally happened

because it's not like her feelings on anything have CHANGED, she just thinks im magically not depressed anymore and never will be again and it's not a chronic thing that i just know better than to ever ever mention or show because she's so fucking annoying about it and i don't trust her at all

life is great i love life and every adult who ever existed in my life during formative years definitely did not fail me

#anyway.#jess pretends to have a life #jots this down as things to have even more therapy about bc the hours i've already spent on it clearly weren't enough #in conclusion i don't think people should have kids. they're all bad at it. stop having children.

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universeofmuses · 7 months

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Its my birthday today...

//so today is my birthday... I am 35 today, I am fat, I am single, and I am a bit of a loser... I know these are harsh things to say about myself but they are true.. Most people my age are already married and looking to have kids, hell a girl I liked when I worked my first job just got married this past weekend..

I just thought I'd be married at this point, that I'd be looking to have a family. How is it that someone who looks to do the right thing, go to school, get an education, be a good son, not get into any trouble, wind up here. Broke and alone and a fat? Honestly as I look back on everything I just see that I do not matter in the livest of anyone except maybe 2 people and those are my parents. I mean I could be factored out of everyone's lives and it wouldnt have made even the slightest impact, usually I think of myself as the hero of my own story but honestly lately and by that I mean the past few months, I just see myself as the useless side character that no one even knew was there.

I guess I just dont know where i went wrong in life, I dont know where I could have made a change so that I wouldnt end up alone... so that I wouldnt be where I am now. Alone and essentially crying myself to sleep, wishing life was different than the way it was. Is this a reflection on me or the world as a whole?

i guess it is true what they say, the nice guys really do finish last, and boy am I feeling that. I just feel like this last years especially that life has done everything it can to beat me down. I wasted my money on dating sites which I have next to nothing to show for the $400 I spent so I can even be able to talk to someone if theyre there at all, speed dating has just shown me that i am not an interesting enough person to continue on for another date not to mention they are not even being done anymore..., and lets not forget the fact that even being set up with a friend of a friend was a total bust and has left me feeling cold and empty inside. Then lets talk about kink, while its been great going to the events, I just so happen to be into something that no one either cares about or is willing to entertain... not to mention I lost a friend because I dared to ask for the possibility of my kink. life has just beaten me down...

Tonight I just feel so defeated, so hopeless, the only thing I really want to do is just drink and cry myself to sleep... like i do every night. Today is my birthday I am 35 and I am fat and alone, and honestly I dont know what I can do to make things better. I dont know how I can get someone to see that I have worth, to see that I am a gentleman and will worship the ground you walk on as long as you put in a reasonable amount of effort, that I am a hard worker and deserve to have that acknowledged.

Honestly hearing that I am such a nice guy used to bring me pride, now I just feel like its a badge of shame, because it just seems like no one wants a nice guy at work, or in a relationship, being a nice guy has really bought me nothing in life, just lots of regrets and missed opportunities. God I hate the way my life has turned out... I really do... Happy birthday to me, Happy 35th birthday to me.

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theoldaeroplane · 8 months

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Rambling

Had a semi-major health scare Monday (I'm okay) and have been recovering from that for the last week. In an hour I go in and get onboarded for a company that places people in factory jobs---I'm literally so worn down from the last two years that I don't want to let myself hope, but if I could get placed somewhere that pays a living wage and just do repetitive tasks to my music all day that would be incredible.

Monday's scare knocked the wind out of me creatively which is actually painful with how inspired I was for the last few months. I seem to be able to get over myself and write with very specific circumstances so that's better than nothing. I cut up some paper for artist trading cards and I'd like to try to make some of those soon too as a low effort, low stakes creative thing.

As ever, I struggle to keep myself from perceiving myself as a burden to people around me. On a logical level I believe them when they say I'm not, because they're my friends and they've proven that over and over, but the wicked goblin that lives in my brain loves to point out that's what my parents would have said too. And look how that turned out. I have a dedicated playlist for grieving the fact that my parents' love was conditional.

It's started to become clear to me that I think I am more damaged than I previously thought, and I guess I would rather know that than otherwise. Ive spent a lot of time thinking about a line from a song: "for once I want to be the car crash, not always just the traffic jam." I've always identified with that line, with the idea of "if I'm going to get hurt, at least do it in a way loud enough to get help." To not feel like a chronic nuisance, because I think I've always had that sense of being A Nuisance. A Bother. An Inconvenience. And I'm sure that I was that to my parents much of the time (I recall the time my mother informed me I was an unplanned child), and that's surely why I have such trouble with it now. I spend so much energy and time trying to do things to convince people (read: myself) that I'm worth the effort to put up with. I'm certain it's why I get so afraid and anxious when something I do is met with silence or a lackluster response, because oh no, this is it, they're finally sick of me, they're going to tell me I'm annoying and needy and troublesome just like my former best friend once did. (That's another thing I should really bring to therapy. It's been ten years since that happened and I still haven't really talked about it.)

If I can just get work that doesn't drain me. If I can just get work that pays enough to let me afford the things I need to support myself without burning out. (I live in fucking Iowa. It's a low bar here, the cost of living.) If I can just stabilize, if I can just start to get enough money to feel secure again, if I can start to look for a new car that doesn't feel like it's going to fall apart at any moment. If I can meter my energy out in the right way to let me be a person after work. If I can just, if I can just. I'm so tired. I'm so so tired.

#corgijournals!

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kimikayla · 1 year

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It is hard for me to reconcile the scattered and eclectic parts of my personality that I see from my previous online activity from years ago. The employment opportunities that did not lead me to the promised land of happiness. The effort was never valued or appreciated. I spent so many years, almost half my life I have spent chasing something that I was told was right. All the signs from teachers, parents, friends and society telling me to chase something larger. All the years I spent hiding parts of myself and denying those parts sunlight. These parts never went away, they festered and became bitter anger fighting to be free. I self-sabotaged and fumbled my way through employment, raw-dogging my neurodiverse awkward self through horrendous situations where my mental health was belittled, experiences of racism were dismissed by women of colour, yelled at by employers for daring to leave and supervised by white men who I can’t help feel would have treated me better if I was thinner and more attractive.

It just figures when I stopped prioritising upskilling myself and choose myself, I find a renewed passion for work. I feel I had my so called “selfish” era during the pandemic where I was focused on keeping myself safe. Funny I equate with protecting my single self alone in a city without family in constant lockdown for two years as “selfish” because I was finally looking out for myself. I had little other choice, no one else was going to do it. Since moving cities again after yet another awfully triggering experience where I experienced complete burnout, I have found some peace in living quietly by giving up. Giving up was the most liberating thing I ever did for myself. It was revolutionary for me to realise that I don’t have to stay in a situation that does not serve me. I have always had to just put up with abusive situations since childhood and I never learnt that I could walk away. I gave up on that dream and path in life. I’m not sure whether it was a dream I actually wanted or rather just a vision of a life I could have in fear of having nothing at all.

I like my spinster self - at home on weekends with my dog. I love the comfort of my bed and quietness of my home. I became self-sufficient as I always wanted and make the food I bought with my own money on the stove in my home.

If I can dream it I can achieve it - though it may not be what I really want. Right now, I want to be happy and I am learning what that could be.

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violentivy · 1 year

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Survivors guilt

My family had a bit of a rough year as far as the holidays. I mean, my family of origin.

See, my brother caught Covid and tested positive on Dec 23rd. My Mom tested positive yesterday, (Merry Christmas I guess.)

My brother was all over his socials talking about how he felt bad for anyone who couldn't spend time with their families this holiday, and that he understood how hard it was.

The gesture felt empty. I hated that he suddenly had ALL THE SUPPORT IN THE WORLD for people separated from their families the moment he can't see his kids for ONE holiday.

I get that he's autistic and empathy might be a bit of a stretch for him, but I TOO am autistic, and I have spent my life being overly empathetic to make up for my siblings complete and utter disregard for anyone but themselves. It's kinda funny, I mean, funny isn't really the world but I lack the right one. I've been unable to spend Christmas with all of my children for 9 fucking years. If you think about that in time lost, the memories I will never be able to make with my kids, how I am grateful to get to kind of be there through a twitter thread now.

When I was their full time parent, I made sure that all of them knew I would never abandon them. From the moment I first held them in my arms. Then to have them ripped away because "You can't read social queues." feels awful. I too, am autistic, and I just wish I had a chance to have a "normal", real family.

I never saw one meme, one expression of care or concern, nothing before yesterday.

As a matter of fact, the first holiday after the kids were taken, I went to my Mother's house she called my terrible mood her fault in an effort to try to guilt me into feeling better. Maybe that worked when I was a kid IDK. It doesn't work now.

I stopped going to her house for Easter after that. I usually spend the day home by myself.

I understand in a very real way that I am on my own. My family is just some people I'm related to and I've never belonged with them. I keep them, just as I keep all acquaintances, at an arm's length. I do not even permit my sister to message me. I do this for my survival.

Just as I spent yesterday. I sat at home for 18 hours just playing video games all day and it was glorious. I didn't have to share the controller, I didn't have to get off of my computer to help someone, or make a huge meal. I didn't cry too much.

My upbringing was pretty terrible. I understand my parents were doing the best they could, but their best was fucking awful. I've found since I've started reparenting myself, and encouraging myself to take off my mask more and more, I feel better.

When my boss "corrects" my behaviors, he says he wishes someone had done the same for him. I just want to shout at him "wait, because you're neurodivergent and lack the social queues?"

See, I lack the social queues, too, but believe it or not, I feel pretty ok in my being terrible at it.

Nothing in my life currently follows convention.

My husband and I had had our holiday on the 21st with his kids, and I expect to visit my daughter and granddaughter on the 28th. He worked a 12 hour shift yesterday during which he made more money in a day than I make in a pay period. That's all true. However, my husband also does a lot of the household work as well. I'm glad because I lack the spoons to do so, as well as just the ability, but he can't see mess.

So, I point out things and he deals with them. It's hard to call oneself interdependent when your partner does so much. It feels like leaning but then I have to remind myself that I am the one who sees the things and points them out, so that he can do whatever needs to be done.

And I'm not like, completely helpless either. I'm disabled. That's ok. 40 hour work week takes all the spoons I have and then some.

I am able to cook sometimes. I can sometimes remember to do a whole load of laundry. Sometimes, I even remember I could be folding the laundry while I have a streamer on the television to essentially body double with me. I try not to get annoyed at how many times a day I trip over shit and fall.

On the 21st I was running down the hallway, caught a shoe, tripped and fell hard enough that I slid when I fell. I still have carpet burn on my knees.

I brushed it off, but I just wanted to sit, cry and feel sorry for myself. But my mother taught me that you can't do that in front of your kids. They need to see you as untouchable and unphasable.

That ISN'T correct, but since also poorly regulate, it's been necessary for my survival. I try not to wail. I feel a wail in my throat often.

Because that's GRIEF that is trapped inside, and I feel like I always carry it. It also feels as though no one really gets it. Like I am some delusional woman who believes she used to have children, but doesn't in reality.

Except the one that does constantly stay in contact, who pretty much gets a hold of me daily asking for some money, or some form of heavy emotional labor. An emotional labor I HAVE to do because I parented her poorly, because I too was a child when I had her.

But I have to do it before her brain fully solidifies. She needs to understand she isn't a bad kid. She's always been so good, but she also has always been under her father's thumb, and that nothing was ever going to be good enough for him.

Me? I'm pretty easy to please. Just let me to my own devices and reach out when you need advice. I'm just, automatically proud. You all were little wobbly pieces of sentient meat who turned into less wobbly pieces of sentient meat. And those meatsuits you currently wear are capable of amazing things like making music, or creating art.

In my head, I laugh and say "I made that meatsuit.". The fact is, I did. But ya'll gave it life.

And THAT is why I'm proud of you. You gave yourselves lives and dared to dream bigger than I could muster as a heavily emotionally abused little girl.

I'm still that girl, yes, still the same meat mech I've always had, but through your lofty dreams, I'm able to see beyond the faulty programing, and the crappy connective tissues that just don't stay in place the way they should.

However, it is also terrifying because as you dream big, I realize I have to help create a steady foundation for you to jump off of into your adult lives. And as a kid when I asked for that kind of foundation my parents told me I was being resource intensive. They told me I asked for too much and being self made was better than being just... Made.

It's called GENERATIONAL wealth for a reason. You're supposed to spread it. You're supposed to share it.

As if by some miracle my other 2 sons find this blog post, I'm sorry. I know you think I'm evil. You can think that if you'd like. You'll make your own conclusions someday. I love and accept you no matter what. My littlest one, I want you to know that you associate food with me. That's why you over eat. I was trying this new method with you were I fed you every meal so that you'd have a healthy association with food. The thing is, we didn't get through that entire program.

And my middlest one, you have my heart. As much as you all look, think and act like me, you may be the one who does that the most. Keep being your weird self. Keep asking those macabre questions and keep making it uncomfortable for everyone. Someday, someone is going to try to stop you from asking uncomfortable questions and revealing uncomfortable truths.

Don't. Don't stop ever. You're right to question. This world ain't gonna fix itself and in order to make it better for everyone, we gotta ask those questions.

I stopped because someone beat me repeatedly for it.

And for my other 2, who likely won't see this post. I am so, incredibly proud of you. You are living your dreams and even if it makes me nervous, understand that I am still proud. I am just fighting a lot of internal programming.

We'll all be together someday. Until then, I'll keep playing video games on holidays by myself and dream of spring, where you all would run around your grandparents back yard and hunt for eggs while the rest of the family enjoyed the warm of the springtime sun.

#christmas feels #holiday #sad holidays #actually neurodivergent #actually autistic #actually dyspraxic

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speakingagain · 3 months

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TW: Abuse, domestic abuse, S ideation and plans, cheating, sexual assault mentioned......Read at your own risk. I don't go into detail on it, just brief mentions.

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Today I have had, what feels like, a lot more reminders of my ex. And not the kind that makes me want to drink and then text him at 3 am saying "I miss you."

No.

The kind of thoughts that swing between pissing me off and just reminding me how much I need therapy.

The kind that makes me want to heal and move on.

Nothing pisses me off quite as much as realizing how much, despite not seeing him in almost a year, and being broken up with him for almost two years, he still impacts my life every damn day.

And you would think that it might be in at least SOME positive way, right? Maybe?

I had some happy memories with him. I had good days with him. He made me feel loved sometimes. He was my safe place sometimes. He was my confidant, he was my best friend, he was the center of my universe.

I should have something positive that results from me thinking of him.

So why the fuck, is it so damn hard to feel any sort of happy emotion towards him?

Every single memory of him, is now tainted. Nothing about him is happy, safe, loving, or reassuring. Nothing about him makes me miss him. Not even a little bit bit.

And the most fucked up thing is I am not even sure I'm mad at him anymore. Not for the lies, the cheating, the domestic abuse, the emotional or financial abuse, the manipulation, or gaslighting. No, I hold nothing in my heart for him except disappointment.

All the anger and frustration is now aimed towards myself.

"But Mae, why are you mad at yourself?" Good question, imaginary person reading this.

I stayed for five years. I still haven't divorced him, and I've made no such effort to. I knew he was abusive. I knew he lied. I knew he was cheating. I knew he spent all my money. I knew he was ruining my credit. I knew he was manipulative. I knew about the anger problems. I knew about his fucked up family. I knew about how he would weaponize his incompence. I knew that he was an idiot.

And I stayed for five fucking years.

I spent all of those years coming up with different bullshit excuses to stay.

"He's not always like this."

"He's just having a bad day."

"He would never actually hurt me."

"His parents did this, it's all he knows."

"He said he wouldn't do it again."

"He said he would get therapy."

"He said he would change."

"He loves me."

"I still love him."

"I have nowhere else to go."

"No one else wants me."

"It's not real domestic abuse unless he hits me. He just throws things around me. He just breaks my things. He just-"

"I don't want to fight him anymore."

"He won't let me leave."

"He will fight me on taking Sable."

All of these were lies. Not a single one was true. And they all gradually just become more bullshitty and held less hope. And I know, I have no control of his actions. I have no way of stopping him. I couldn't control him. I couldn't fix him.

But I could have left.

I could have protected my dog Sable from so much abuse. I could have kept her safe. I could have kept myself safe. I could have left so much sooner.

I knew the signs of abuse and of a narcissist. I grew up with my POS of a father. I had seen every aspect of abuse. I had seen the hatred and gaslighting. I had seen the lies and manipulation. I had seen it all. I knew what it looked like.

But I wanted desperately to prove to myself and my family that I knew what I was doing, that I could have the happy-ever-after, and that I was lovable. Unfortunately, that made me a target for someone who's really good at manipulating situations. (Well that and I had recently been sexually assaulted but that's a whole other story.)

I was traumatized for many reasons, 18 years old, and thought I had the world figured out. I had just been kicked out of my parents house, dropped out of high school, finished up Job Corp, and had no where else to go. I felt completely abandoned.

Granted, this was all the natural consequences of my own actions, and I now can take full accountability on that part. But I had never felt more alone in my entire life, and he took full advantage of that.

My family drifted away, because he had become my knight in shining armor and he told me they didn't want to be happy for me. My friends tried warning me, but I lashed out because even my best friends didn't support me in finding happiness.

I had suddenly, and very effectively, been secluded from my support system.

And it only got worse from there.

My health took a dive, and I was in and out of the hospital for 3 months due to severe GERD, and I was unable to eat anything for a solid 3 months without it coming back up. Doctors thought I had stomach cancer and I was on multiple medications to try and manage my symptoms while trying to find a diagnosis. I was unable to work for those three months, and he spent the whole time working and taking care of me. During this time, I ended up getting a kidney infection that got me hospitalized over night. I was given morphine for the pain and apparently kept telling the overnight nurse she was very pretty.

My ex proposed to me that night about 20 minutes after I was given meds. I actually laughed at him. We had only been dating for 6 months. He couldn't be serious.

I noticed he wasn't laughing and realized he was serious. He said that he was so scared I was going to die that he didn't want to live another day without me.

Sober me knows that crazy. Morphine me thought it was crazy but I was getting my Disney happy-ever-after and nothing was more romantic.

Sober me wants to hit 19 year old me with a cricket bat.

He didn't even have a ring. Didn't get down on one knee. Didn't even hold my hand. Didn't even kiss me. He sat on the couch across the room and played on his phone.

That was the least romantic thing he could have done.

He never got more romantic either.

I once begged him to hold my hand because he wouldn't do it around his friend/our roommates.

I once deep cleaned our entire room and made a slide show, complete with music, videos and animation to show him how much he meant to me for our one year anniversary. He yelled at me for bothering him after he got home from work. Two nights later he got into a screaming match with me saying I never do anything for him.

That night was the first time I stood up for myself against him. I told him if that's the case, he can get out of the apartment I was renting under my name, and that I, solely, was paying for it. He back tracked real quick and said, "That's not what I meant."

At the next place we rented together, he got fired because he hit a deer with a company car (among other things). I worked 70+ hours every week for months on end because he was too sad to work. I gave it to him, because he gave me the 3 months while I was sick. And he actually used it against me.

Then he began drinking. This was around October/November of 2020, so beginning of the pandemic. I was supposed to go home for Thanksgiving to see my family but Covid is a bitch. So we all canceled a few days before we were supposed to go down. I was devastated, I was seriously home sick, and severely burned out. I cried the whole 4 days I had off because I missed my family deeply. His response was to tell me to knock it off and play call of duty while cussing out 12 year olds because he was a sore loser.

A month later for Christmas, his dad, him and I were supposed to have Christmas dinner together. Our roommates were gone for the holiday, so I planned on making a whole Christmas dinner. But I had just worked a 16 hour shift over night and I asked to get a few hours of sleep before I started cooking. I felt that was a reasonable request.

While I was asleep, he and his dad left me to go have dinner together without me. I woke up and noticed he was gone and had sent a text explaining where he was.

Me being the petty bitch I was, responded back passive aggressively. "Gee thanks for leaving me alone on Christmas."

This, of course, turned into an argument and he came back home and we had it out. He eventually screamed, "what do you want from me?"

I told him I wanted him to love me and make me a priority for once. I told him that he knew how much Christmas meant to me, and how I didn't even get to see my family. I told him that he abandoned me because he was hungry when he could have waited an hour and he would have a hot meal on the table for both him and his dad.

His response was to fall over and have a stress induced seizure (they were very common for him) and then when he came to, he went and drank half a bottle of vodka in the laundry room by himself.

I originally ignored him having a seizure because I figured he was doing it for sympathy and to get out of trouble, as he had done in the past. Of course, he began to aspirate his own vomit and it is a little hard to fake that. I did get him into the recovery pose and made sure his didn't hurt himself but then I ignored him after his seizure, and went and made myself dinner.

I made my some chili with a family recipe in a crockpot. Not even intending to share with his asshole of a father or him.

While I was cooking, he demanded we take pictures in the shirts my mom had made us for Christmas to send to my family to show how happy we were. Mind you, I had just stopped crying at this point, and it was obvious in the pictures.

My family didn't respond to them at all.

And he demanded we feed his Dad who had shown up again because I "ruined his Christmas". His dad ate a whole bowl, and my ex ate about three bites before saying he wasn't hungry and then left it on a shelf till it molded. I got barely any of it due to only cooking enough for myself and a bit of left overs.

He did this with every meal I made him, so I stopped cooking for him entirely and only ever made myself food.

For our third year anniversary, we took the weekend off, got a babysitter for our dog, and rented a hotel room nearby just to escape and try to rekindle the romance. All planned for and paid by me of course. It went well, until after dinner. I asked him to rub my back due to the bed being very uncomfortable and you know....trying to get some. It was my anniversary, sue me.

He, sitting on the second queen bed, said "Maybe later, I'm watching TV." And honestly, normally I don't care if he says no. He had every right to say no. I was upset at the fact that he had been refusing to touch me (even just like hand holding) for months. I was upset that he was more interested in watching TV than doing something even remotely romantic with me.

It was cold as shit outside and snowing, and I had only warn a cute dress and some comfy pajamas for over night. I wasn't going on a walk to clear my head. So I did the only other thing I could think of. I went into the bathroom and cried in the bathtub. He only came looking for me because he also needed to use the bathroom and I had been in there a while. I had full intentions on sleeping in that bathtub too. I didn't want to share a room with him at all.

He eventually did get me out of the bathroom, and we cuddled for a bit before he went back to the TV, sitting on the other bed and I fell asleep, giving up hope.

These multiple examples are what I would consider the good years of our marriage. And only three years in.

Turns out, 6 months before this, he had actually gotten himself a sugar mommy and had started his long line of cheating. And I had no idea.

Not until he would disappear for hours and say he was out delivering food for Uber Eats. Mind you, I had his account on my phone and can track the amount of time online doing deliveries, all of which said 0 time spent delivering. Not to mention he made NO money whatsoever.

Then he got super possessive of his phone and would turn it away from me. And then would always go through my phone and accuse me of hiding mine.

Then he would accuse me of having a thing for my one friend I had managed to make in Utah despite living there for 3 years at this point.

And then he started asking weird questions like, "What would you do if I cheated on you?" "Have you ever wanted to cheat on me?" "Have you ever cheated on me?"

It took a long time for me to actually decide to go through his phone.

I knew deep down he was cheating. There were too many signs and he was being too weird about everything. After talking to one of my coworkers, she convinced me that there was something definitely wrong. That I needed to look.

I was right. Of course, I was right.

I didn't want to be. I didn't want to believe it. He was my person. My best friend. My safe place. The one I could always trust.

*ERRRRRR* WRONG ANSWER BITCH

Around this time, I had a whole ass melt down. I shaved the sides of my head, eventually giving myself a pixie cut. I went to my brother's wedding and almost didn't come home. I became severely depressed and had written out a note to everyone I loved and had made a plan to end it. But I was too sad to get out of bed to do it. I quit my job, but that was a long time coming.

I barely left my apartment for two months.

Eventually I got a job working in a treatment center for teens. Lots of therapy related work. I quickly realized that everything I was preaching to the kids about how they deserve to be loved, respected and have boundaries will only mean so much if I'm not living it myself too.

So I got a therapist, got my meds fixed so I wasn't so depressed, and began holding up boundaries.

He didn't like that, and he only became more angry. We fought more. He broke more shit.

We had attempted to work on things together, but he kept cheating and eventually "fell in love" with his boss/friend and planned on telling her. I found a love note for her on the coffee table. I was actually talking to a suicide hotline person before I found it. I had made a plan to stay safe with her and was given resources if I couldn't. I was just having a really bad night and couldn't sleep. And that's always a bad combination.

But I found the note and I started laughing. I woke his lazy ass up at 3 am and handed it to him. He immediately started groveling. I told him, "I don't give a fuck anymore. I'm done." And I had a huge fucking smile on my face.

I was free.

I was finally fucking free.

I guess he came clean to his boss and she messaged me a few days later, apologizing and saying she would stay away from him. I told her, it's cool, I don't even care. I was gay anyways.

I am bi, but not totally gay. But it was the best way I could think of to avoid any further unnecessary complications and emotional annoyances coming from him or her. And how I rationalized me not being attracted to him for the last year (womp womp).

I did not give a shit anymore.

That was probably the most liberating moment of my life.

I didn't give a fuck.

I was done.

The only thing I regret about that moment, is that it didn't come sooner.

And the fact that, I had spent the last few years of my life raising an adult despite knowing exactly what he was doing.

And you know what?

It is okay.

You had to learn, one way or another. And you learned a lot from him. Many hard and difficult lessons.

You learned and you grew. And you're still learning. And you're still growing.

And I'm so proud of you for finding your worth. I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself and taking the steps to love yourself and to make your life better. I am so proud of who you're becoming. I am so proud of you.

And I forgive you for staying. I forgive you for lying to yourself. I forgive you for keeping Sable and yourself in an abusive home. I forgive you for not standing up for yourself. I forgive you for valuing yourself as less than. I forgive you for making yourself small. I forgive you for thinking you're broken, and that no one else will want you.

You are good. You are strong. You are beautiful. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be safe. You deserve forgiveness. You deserve strength and growth. You deserve better.

And I am so proud of you.

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thoughtsofchamomile · 6 months

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Understanding Love

First of all, this is not about KathNiel’s breakup, although I am really affected by it too.

Even when I was younger, I often hear the statement, “love is not enough”. I believed it too, but I didn’t understand it back then.

I always believed how strong and powerful love is. Because it pushes you to do things you never imagined yourself doing. Love is a noun and a verb. It is also an adjective because God is love. Love is a glue that binds everyone together, and at the same time a fire that destroys everything in a small amount of time.

Love is so powerful that it could even kill you.

But love could change you. It could bring either the best or the worst out of you.

They say love is blind. Because when you are in love all you see is the good things in the person, in or out. We tend to disregard the toxic behaviors of the person we love. Sometimes, their physical appearance as well.

I craved for a love that is a complete opposite of what I see in my parents.

I used to think that the most visible expression of love is the act of kindness and goodness. I also believe, until now, that the most important thing in a person is the heart. It’s being good (well, next to love because I do not believe there is goodness in the absence of love. When we love, everything follows).

Nothing is better than being good to people.

So I always taught myself that in looking for a partner, I should never look for wealth, but for heart alone. Because money can be earned anytime. I was not sent to a good school to be a housewife one day. I am proud I am not a gold digger, and was sure that I can earn my own money.

So it happened.

Reuben and I were together for more than four years. We were together in my entire college years.He is a good man, and I’m proud he is. He loves me very much. He is faithful. Most importantly, he is a Christian… But only in religion. He is jobless, and he just got back to school last three years. He is not rich.

At first, I thought it’s fine.

I understand he has no money and I appreciate his small gifts every occasion, although not consistently, but I appreciate. If he can make an effort to give me gifts even he has nothing, what more could he give when he has something? Ever since when we go out, I spent all the time, and it’s fine. During the pandemic, I didn’t really need the money, though I have a little. And I did appreciate how he stayed by my side even at the lowest point of my life when I struggled with depression and anxiety, and always wanted to die.

He was with me. When I thought nobody was, he is. Even we don’t see each other all the time, he is there. And I appreciated.

But then eventually, a lot of things happened, a lot had changed. My needs have changed. I need his presence more than everything else. I even offered to spend for everything, just so he can suffice my needs. It worked, but not very well. He started to treat me differently. He started making excuses all the time. He could not prioritize me anymore. He always got reasons. He is often irritated, then be sorry later on. At some point, he is not him anymore, he is not the person I used to love before. He’ll be sorry but manipulate things, gives lame reasons and often reprimands me. He started invalidating my feelings.

We broke up and get back again all the time. Because he could not keep his promises. He is not a man of his word. Nor a provider or a leader or a man I used to know.

I was not blinded by his red flags, I know I didn’t deserve it. And in return, even I remained as sweet as candy, my heart turned cold. I always find fault in him. I count his wrongs, unintentionally, because I tried not to make a big deal about it, but a small move creates a huge impact when piled up.

This is how I understand why love is not enough.

A relationship built with love is a good seed, but with not enough water and sunlight, it could not grow.

A relationship is like a plant, it has its own needs (good soil, water, and sunlight) to be sustained constantly. A relationship does not circle in love alone. It should always have trust, respect, and everything each person needs. People have desires other than love. The persons who belong to a relationship should acknowledge and honor these needs. And most importantly, a relationship needs God to fix each other’s fault. He will cut your withered leaves and watch over you. A God-centered relationship is something I used to dream. And I thought having a born again boyfriend is the answer, but no. A religion of person does not define true Christianity.

So I realize now, with all that been said, that love can really be enough to sustain a relationship because God is love. And we should surrender it all to Him. On the other hand, his graciousness and perfect will was enough indeed for this world, but the world did not accept Him. He is enough, but people chose something else.

In other words, I could say that love is enough. But it should be accompanied by actions.

Being good is also enough. But we can argue that people don’t stop being good while giving into temptations at the same time, because you are not defined but your mistakes. It is true. But this world is completely different from the ways of God. You see, being a good Christian means to be firm to not fall for sin. But all Christians sin every single day. It’s not fine, but God understands that humans are weak, that’s why His grace is sufficient for us, because His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12).

It is impossible to live a life without God. Because God created life. He is life.

Therefore, when we feel that love is not enough, we should start assessing ourselves: “did I ever seek God’s will over mine?” If not, then we should pray harder! Repent and seek His will. Just think about every single move you make. It might go against the will of God without you realizing it.

We also have to understand that no relationship is perfect for us humans, we always have to seek God.

No person could ever comprehend the goodness of God, and His peace despite of imperfections.

Well, not all relationships are for a lifetime. Sometimes, it is also God’s will for us to love somebody but don’t end up with them. It is part of God’s plan for our progress and growth. And it is not a waste of time. And it definitely does not mean that love is not enough.

Be dependent on God.

#female writers #love #understanding #understandinglove #women writers #thinking #god #goodness

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mango-study · 10 months

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Welcome to my blog!✨

Since it's the middle of summer, I've been on vacation the last couple of weeks. At the end of September, exams are coming up. Exams that I'm kinda nervous about. Originally, there should have been five of them, but now it's down to three. Why the change? I figured out that setting realistic goals will bring me further than chasing some idea of being a perfect student.

Reality Check: My past and presence

I believe in positive affirmations and the effect of negative self-talk, but let's be real: For the last years I've been lazy, I've been procrastinating and I've been wasting vulnerable time. Time that could have been invested in myself and my future, but was instead spent on scrolling trough memes on Instagram, laying in bed and sleeping through school.

Starting university a year ago was supposed to be a fresh start for me. But you know what? I haven't really taken full advantage of it. Somehow, I ended up sticking to the same old habits from my school days. And somehow, I still managed to pass most of my exams with the bare minimum effort. If I keep doing that, I'm probably setting myself up for failure down the line. It's a shame that my whole circle of friends and family are working so hard and supporting me wherever they can, while I do.. nothing. Don't get me wrong, I don't think of myself as a total failure, but I'm not exactly doing a victory dance either.

I feel like all I ever achieved was not because of hard work (because let's be honest, I never put in hard work) but because of luck and privilege. I know all of that sounds terribly like I hate myself, but it's actually not that way (anymore). I just think that there is unused potential in me. And I'm on a mission to unlock it. Acknowledging my mistakes and changing things around? That's my way of showing myself some love. Putting in the effort to build the future I want? That's self-love right there. Creating habits that actually make a difference in life? Yep, you guessed it - that's self-love too.

Gosh, I sound like an influencer who wants to sell you their magic face cream or pyramid scheme that is definitely going to make you rich (for the record, it wont). My bad. If I knew how to do that, I still wouldn't.

Chasing self improvement: My future

While I grief about the time that is lost, I also recognize that I am currently in the perfect position to turn things around. I don't have a lot of bills to pay, because I'm living with my boyfriend and he supports me financially, just as my parents. No kids, no major responsibilities - just taking care of this house. I'm working on weekends to save up some money (traveling did not help with that). But let's face it, there will come a day when I can't keep relying on others and will have to learn independence. It's just fair for those around me to do my best to reach that point as soon as possible.

Up until now I didn't really follow a routine - but I came up with the idea of a masterplan. A girlboss, that-girl, changing my life plan. This blog is part of it - part of me getting back on track (or honestly just getting on track the first time of my life lol). I know this won't reach a big audience, but that's not my goal anyway. I just want to use this as a journal, firstly because I want to document everything (imagine if I actually make it big someday and this blog still exists - talk about a throwback), secondly because I've read somewhere that journaling helps with time management and thirdly because maybe there's someone out there who can relate to my story and learn a thing or two along with me.

In my next post you will read more about that masterplan I mentioned earlier. You're invited to be part of the brainstorming! Thanks for hanging out and reading.

Embrace the journey, embrace yourself. Until next time!💗

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pageofheartdj · 11 months

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Aa if you dont want this ignore but this is like some insight from a gen z kid about that post you reblogged about limited freedom and stuff about our generation? Idk if you remember ejfbje

But like for me because of covid the last year of high school pretty much was online. We didn't do any graduation or prom and never got any send off into college/university. And because lockdown was taken more seriously where I live my college ended up being online for both years (I graduated a year early).

That means college was spent online in my room doing all my classes and lessons never really getting to know anyone and never meeting my teachers or classmates. To this day I've never met anyone I went to college with.

We also didnt do any graduation. Just got the stuff in the mail and told I'm done. Theres no sense of community, no clubs or outside of class activities. Theres no hanging out, no social interactions, the closest thing to talking to anyone is someone asking if there was homework, despite group effort to interact with each other through discord.

I now have my first job in my field, and it is online. I've never been to our office building, never met any of my coworkers. I'm working at home in my room and it's been practically the same since grade 12.

Obviously not everyone is experiencing that, but for perspective everyone that graduated in my year and in some other programs too experience very similar stuff. We never had any of that teen into adulthood development. Just thrown in without any chance to experiment or make friends or develop more social skills or life skills. Since the pandemic lots has closed down, malls are empty, and good luck finding anywhere to make friends that isnt online, or anywhere to hang out that isnt lonely loitering, expensive, or a bar (where, at least for me, it is hard to get there, hard to justify the prices, and overall unpleasant because people arent too interested in becoming friends).

Theres also barely any social community events unless you are religious or dont have a 9-5, which I do. The isolation is something a few friends I had since elementary school have talked about, and it's getting painfully obvious.

But yeah, theres all these things talking about freedom of school and college and all that, but what do you do when all that time is spent in your room because it is all online and everything is closed? My job is online and I can barely afford to rent a single room and I'm making decent enough money. It's hard to relate to older generations when they talk about being this age because theres basically nothing the same other than doing homework. Plus parents because of covid get far far more time and reasons to pressure you into staying and monitoring you.

Idk, that's just like some extra stuff to say, because how that some things have been online online is now an option in some colleges. And that means some patents can pressure their kids into doing that instead of getting to leave because how else will they get the money to survive and do school? It sucks having so little freedom, and it feels like theres nothing to do about it because there is no sense of community. Everyone is isolated and where I am at least, talking to someone you dont know is considered highly rude and possibly threatening, regardless of the context (unless it's to people at their jobs about things they do).

Idk, makes me wish I was born a decade or two earlier sometimes. Anyways sorry for the rant

Yeah I knew covid fucked up so many people. Social interactions are SO important for development and so many kids and teenagers were deprived of it. And internet is NOT a good substitute. It's just bonus.

It can't teach boundaries or stuff like that, in fact it messes with people's perceptions. They treat users as things and not living people. They constantly form parasocial relationships, because there is no one else to properly connect with and they don't know how to even make normal friends.

Not to mention the world in general became more paranoid.

Where I live it wasn't this bad for the longest time. A decade ago I could have easily just. Walk into my school for nostalgia trip and there was NO resistance whatsoever. I walked around hallways, chatted with teachers I used to learn from.

Also in the context of the families, it's pretty individual since many countries treat families as big communities where it's fairly normal for kids to keep living with parents.

I don't even know how to help this generation, they desperately need some actual human interaction. They need to make mistakes and learn from it and internet is the worst place for it because it remembers everything and so many people can see it and abuse it.

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user13131313-13 · 1 year

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It’s still the same day as my previous entry I’ve got a lot on my mind.

I’m frustrated. None of my 4 parents bothered to tell me I was diagnosed with autism as a child and just turned a blind eye and pretended I was neurotypical??

I could’ve spent twenty years learning coping skills and shit but instead whether it was out of fear of alienation by my peers if I knew or had access to resources all this time, instead of skimming my childhood medical records for fun one day after getting them for continued care. And low and behold. My legal name right next to a diagnosis of autism in my assessment notes from a doctor visit I don’t even remember attending honestly.

I wish I weren’t so naive. Like, I’ve struggled to make and maintain friendships and relationships my whole life. And when I realize I’ve been betrayed, I’m quick to burn that bridge. I have four estranged siblings I haven’t spoken to in over ten years each for their own reasons I won’t get into. It makes me sad the people I grew up being closest to are and have been strangers for so long now. It’s weird. I’ve allowed too many friendships to wear me down, hold me back, or kept me around for whatever use they had for me and then I’d be disposed again. Same with relationships.

The only exes I’m on good terms with, were teenage relationships that ended because one had realized she was a woman and wasn’t attracted to me and was so apologetic and sweet when she broke up with me, we’re still good friends. It’s because it was never some big toxic dumpster fire like most of the relationship or friendship endings I’ve had. I’ve fallen into toxic friendships, relationships, unhealthy codependency’s with people who can’t even show up for themselves.

I used to be such a ride or die for my friends but I realized not one of the ones I cut off recently ever initiated anything first. Never texted first, unless it was to vent and then go back to ignoring me. Never made plans, or followed through, or flaked if they agreed to the plans.

I understand it’s hard to be social, it’s hard for me to leave my house. I get that.

But. I feel like I’m not irrational for being upset that the same people who stress me out with their problems, and constantly and continuously avoid me at all costs for over a year each of them. They never checked on me either. I stopped texting first 4ish months ago and guess who I haven’t heard from?

They don’t even know I’d been hospitalized a few times they ignore when I explain I’m struggling with leaving my house and asking them to visit me. I’ve offered gas money when that was a issue, shot down. I eventually even offered to come over to either of their houses despite my absolute dread-level anxiety I feel the moment I leave my front door- I wanted to see them and they would never. Yet they constantly post themselves partying and hanging out together and with other mutual friends and such

So when the excuse they’ve been avoiding me for a year is ‘mental illness’ it’s hard to believe when they’re consistently clubbing every weekend, hanging out with other friends as well as mutuals and even people who LIVE CLOSE AS HELL TO ME. I’m upset I didn’t see it sooner I’m upset I let these people who honestly probably never cared about my well-being stress me out so much for so long.

Since I cut them off, the only thing that’s changed is I have 2 less contacts on my phone and socials. Nothing else has changed really.

I’d rather die alone in a lush field than be surrounded by fake plants.

(I always thought fake plants were tacky. The texture is nice sometimes, but I just don’t get it really. Why get a hunk of plastic that resembles something else that costs about the same? There’s so many beautiful low-effort plants for forgetful plant parents… I don’t know)

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