SadisticRaven

I'm currently in my room, packing. " ____, what're you doing?" France said, walking in. You turned around and faced your father. " I'm sick of this place, I wanna go live with my boyfriend, but you keep getting in the way! I'm old enough to go on my own!" You yelled with tears in your eyes. France looked surprised. " Doux,(Sweet GOOGLE TRANSLATE, #YOLO SWAGLICIOUS XD) I was just--" " Enough with the doux! I want to leave! " You shouted as you slung your bag over your shoulders. You tried to walk pass him but he grabbed your shoulders. " ____, haven't you--" " LET ME GO!" " I was just--" " ENOUGH WITH THE STUPID CRAP PAPA, LET ME GO!!"

Jareth waited for (y/n) to fall into a deep sleep, which didn't take long. She must have been emotionally drained from all that happened at her parents' house. He carefully sat himself up--not wanting to wake her--scooped her into his arms and granted her wish. When he arrived, Jareth found that night had fallen. The castle was silent, save for the symphony of goblin snores. He carried (y/n) to the room next to his, letting the glamour fade now that he was home. The bedding magically moved on their own, allowing him to tuck her under the covers. Jareth brushed his lips on her cheek as he pulled the comforter to her shoulders. He rested his f

You were hidden; shrouded within the shadows whilst your sister shone like the stars, captivating all who saw, claiming the spotlight that she always craved. You, however, were quite the opposite to your dear sister, Christine. In your spare time you read whilst she danced, drew whilst she gossiped and sewed whilst she sang. Times were dull as one of the Populaire’s costume designers, the sheer effort to impress not only the directors, but also the participants and the audience left very little room for fault. Not to mention the aggravating critique from that of Carlotta; one of the many reasons you currently lack in costume staff. Tho

You gaze over the ivory keys in both curiosity and wonder at the instrument which the Master played and composed his heavenly pieces. It astonished you. How an instrument could produce such beautiful sounds at the touch of such a being. Your Master’s. Monsieur Destler. Though he did always prefer the title of Master from your lips. He was a famous composer, one of which could not be identified truthfully by anyone. He never attended gala’s, nor balls, meeting were letters which were delivered by your hand. He was a stranger in the eyes of the public. Even yourself. It had been three years since you had began working for him,

.Nicolas Brown x Reader. ✝     Lonely cooing cracked through the thin air, a purring from a pair of froth colored birds up above in a thin branch, their feathers ruffled from the warm breeze shinning in the golden light breaking through the shaking mint leafs, quiet clipping from their small beaks meeting in quick pecks of kisses shared between life-long lovers. Simple, sweet, a dream of the world for humanity that everyone - even if in secret - shared at night and during the day.     You loved these kind of days; a soft breeze licking and grazing across bare arms and legs, pliable sun glowing down from the sky and blanketing across

.Nicolas Brown x Mute!Reader. ♥ Nicolas Brown was never a man of many words or emotions(anyone could stand to agree with that), and you weren't either for the former, but he could honestly say that for someone who physically couldn't utter a single word, you talked a lot. He wouldn't lie if you asked him; it wasn't something he enjoyed, but he didn't hate it either. Casual conversation wasn't his strong point and it never had been and it never will be, his words usually reserved for his job, but that was okay and he figured it was for you too, holding enough to 'talk' for two. It also wasn't something he found regularly in his life, e

    Sorrow. Pain. Sadness. Loss of innocence. No one that age should ever have to feel these things. Its unfair. Its plain wrong, but there you sat feelings all these things. A whirlpool of dreadful emotions in your head, wondering why the world was so cruel. You were only 8, you should be playing outside, laughing, smiling, and enjoying every second of every day. You shouldn't even worry about life yet, it had barley even started, no child should be left alone in their room every night sobbing wanting the yelling to stop.    You lived in a small house 1 bathroom 2 bedrooms; the smallest one being given to you. The wallpaper was peeling and

Disclaimer: Consent (agreeing to do sexy activities) is important, even when you're just making out.  The Creepypasta Seven Minutes in Heaven series has elements of dubcon, also known as "dubious consent," where a character's consent to sexy activity is unknown or uncertain.  The story here does not represent healthy sexual encounters and should not be anyone's basis for how they go about sexy activity in real life.  Check description for links to learn more. You hesitantly dove your hand into the top hat, your fingers poking around curiously.  It wasn't long before they prodded something odd... something papery.  The tip of your thumb and f