#i imagine this was an attempt by Soul to punish them for something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

samodivaa · 6 months

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Soul-debasing Interrogation

Winter Soldier x Agent!Reader

Both his mentality and body can withstand anything—to err is...human—you are the human in this situation.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking

Words - 2900

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His face is a reflection of the past, of what is left of his life before, but his humanity has long forgotten where it belongs. You are now looking at something resembling a semi-death state, you can’t even comprehend the present condition of his soul, the mental pain or unbearably oppressive suffering he has been put through—a living creature, somewhat both broken and whole at the same time.

His eyelids slowly open, dark orbs focusing on the floor as he lets out a loud groan. He has the violent urge to move, but behind his back, both hands are bound with rope designed to eat away at the skin when he moves, even slightly. His ankles are as well bound to the legs of the chair—he makes an internal scoff at his current state.

“Here we go” you are already standing in between of his wide spread legs, grabbing his chin in a painful hold, waiting to speak when his glossy eyes are fully focused on yours “Try not to let this room scare you.”

A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. You are on the borderline, caught between the tides of fear and fury—him looking at you without blinking dismembers you mentally, but at the same time convinces him of the necessity to fight your fear.

It’s been days and nothing works, he seems unbreakable.

“Talk”

his jaw between your fingertips, grip still painfully tight, fingers turning white.

You are so sweet with your business-like tone—just imagine ripping out the tongue, so you could never speak again.

You study his features for a moment longer before letting go of his chin to slap his face hard, frowning in a sign of dissatisfaction.

“I said talk!“

„Ты так красива, что я забыл что хотел сказать тебе“ (You are so beautiful that I forgot what I wanted to tell you)

He finally says after a dramatic pause, his voice carrying its mocking undertones.

„You sick son of a bitch!“

You slap him again, he doesn’t show any reaction.

„White clothes, белый как снег?” (white as snow)

You put your hands on his knees and bent down, to whisper in his ear.

„I will fucking kill you”

A thin line closes around his throat and goes through, slowly cutting into his skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. After this, his head flies back, manicured fingers whirling around his hair, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling. A groan escapes his dry lips, one that he doesn’t realize he’d been holding.

You drop the thin plastic line and place one nail under his chin, moving slowly, fascinated, nova-flare blue eyes blazing into your own.

„Will you talk now?“

he just sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

„Fuck…“

you whisper, a hint of exasperation and affront in your tone. You almost laugh, guilt twines with another failed attempt of getting any information out of him—you looks down at his trousers, then your eyes widen

„You are enjoying this”

In a full-fledged case of desire, Soldat is able to form both mental and physical representation of the thing he wants now and you don’t plan on initiating action to diminish his state.

Winter snorts at your words and looks at you with a smirk. He is obsessed with the situation, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. He hungers for your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin touching his. He is burning with desire, but keeps quiet about it—that’s his punishment he brings on himself, but there is no way he is begging his enemy—even in this state.

“Yes, I am” he says, with a venomous sneer “My eyes are up here, darling” he breathes.

That uncomfortable feeling is spreading over you as your eyes lift up to his lips, watching them part, taking deep breaths, the longing for him grows especially strong. You stand as though hesitating, suddenly the blood rushes to your head and sends a glow to your cheeks.

You are unable to endure his persistent stare, but you raise your downcast eyes and you finally smirk triumphantly at him as you struggle to breathe, suddenly straddling his thighs, loosening all of the ropes.

Winter watches with growing interest as you lean down, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

Soldat’s eyes are the interpreter of the animal lust beneath, there is an unhealthy sallowness in the color of his orbits, he doesn’t even blink—his body is tense, a steel trap just waiting to be sprung open, but you don’t know that.

Your greedy lips are on his skin, devouring everything you can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back your throaty moans. You drag your lips up his throat, along his jaw, back toward his mouth.

Eyes meet again.

The smirk on his face has disappeared and leaves an intensity behind in his eyes, narrowing into a glare. He is a silent fury who no torment could tame—but the finest fury is the most controlled, there is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

you cry, face white and distorted, with a wan smile.

He laughs spitefully “It's either kiss you or kill you, that's how I see it”

His soul is overflowing but with mingled feelings, no single sensation stands out distinctly, but there is a need in his heart and his body. He grabs you by the hips and gets up with an unexpected growl. Sexual perversions mix with lust and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity, dropping you slowly on the cold floor.

The moment your feet touch the ground, you want to scream, but you are cut off with a rough kiss on your lips. He grinds his pelvis into you, so you can feel his hard length against your lower belly, and grips your ass through the flimsy pants.

“I will fuck you” he croons his plans into your ear, and then places a cold palm around your neck “But you need to beg me”

Dominance. Control.

Winter has lost control over everything, even the places in his head… it's paralyzing…of course he has an obsession about female obedience—his human fingers start teasing the crotch of your panties.

You gasp into his mouth, and the opening of your lips let his tongue slide through.

Your arms come up around his neck and he pulls you against him, hands flatten against your back…and you are up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he is kissing you.

He pulls away from you briefly to say gruffly “Come on, I want to hear it” his soul, overflowing with rapture, yearns for your pleas, skin, touch “I know you want me” he whispers with implicit faith in his words.

A whirl of the most fantastic notions takes possession of his brain when your eyes meet again—he clings to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, wordlessy begging, hands sliding down to your waist.

He raises the metal hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before the slightly damp digits are sliding into your panties and teasing your aroused folds and you exhale sharply, turning into a whining mewl as he circles your clit with ease.

“Say it”

he chuckles ruthlessly as the other hand bruises the skin on your waist, while his thumb circles down under your clit, closer to your entrance, fluids start to leak out. Your eyes meet again and something dangerous sparks, you suddenly feel your legs growing weak under you.

“Please-” you whisper, trembling with need and delight.

Winter almost stops when he hears you, his own breathing hitches a bit. He is watching you with an icy expression, voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself

“Keep begging” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

“Please, don’t stop”

You shamelessly lift your leg up, placing it across his lower back and he swipes his thumb over your now throbbing clit before using two fingers to spread your lips apart. You never felt such stretching. It is cold and uncomfortable, but he forces his fingers inside as far as he can. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, your skin breaks out into a pale sweat as he eases into a slow rhythm, curling his fingers inside, fracking, until your body twitches and walls clench around his fingers.

“Need me more” He pistons in and out of you as you clench around his fingers “Beg me more”

Every synapse in your brain short out—the gut-wrenching terror you feel, with a balance of sweet pleasure slide into mindlessness—

“Please, I need more, I need you-” you are cut off with an involuntary moan of rapturous pleasure, you are so close.

Those who constantly hunger for control outside of self are undoubtedly starved for peace inside of self—it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?

You’re powerless, weightless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his gaze as he is staring at you, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, this is what makes you cum, he looks at you like he owns you.

The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, he rasps something in your ear as he mouths against the skin of your neck, but you are too lost to hear it.

You are pushed against the wall, he tilts his head back and lowers his lips to yours and they get bitten to the point of bleeding. Winter feels a metallic taste on his tongue as he pulls back to admire his work, licking his lips, smiling disgustingly.

The sharp taste of blood only whetting his appetite. Winter wraps long slender fingers, around your throat, squeezing slightly and the feeling is too cold for it to be a human hand. His mouth is so close to your ear it makes your hair stand on end as he presses his hips against you, licking along the shell of your ear.

It is arousing, but dangerous—very dangerous.

Your other hand trails down his abdomen to his belt, and a finger dips in before you retrieve it—teasing him, the other hand still rubbing small circles on the tip. He shifts closer so his hardness presses against your hand unwillingly to your plans.

His right hand digs fingers into the flesh of your waist, the grip turning bruising and hard as before—the metal one now resting on the wall close to your head—as a warning, a reminder of the power he holds.

„Don’t you dare stop“ he whispers, the bite of his threat lost somewhere in his need for you to touch.

You need moments to unbuckle his pants, and Winter continues to trail your skin with kisses and whines when a hand slides into his boxers, the other holding closely to take the large cock in your small hands, covering it as much as you can.

You look down at his slick cock and nearly gag at the idea of just having it in your mouth, you want to be on his knees for him.

Drops of pre-cum drop to the floor.

Winter clenches his metal fist, trying to resist the urge to moan loudly, closing his lips he inhales through his nose, face contorting with openly weeping pleasure. He groans in reply, unable to fight your gentle touch, trying to fuck himself against the grip of your hands, too small to cover his whole length, throbbing with delight of that thought, orgasm begins to creep up on him.

You can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to come, all he can do is tighten the grip against your waist—to urge you to please him.

He lets a choked moan escape his lips as you start to move your hands up and down, languidly stroking at his cock—his metal fingers whirling naturally around your neck, squeezing, not enough to break it, whines and whimpers escaping him as if he has no control over them any longer.

You observe every reaction and sound with wide lips and sultry eyes—heavy breathing from both of you as the pleasure hadn’t stopped yet—mesmerized yet almost confused as you’d never seen a killer be so needy for an orgasm, but you don’t dare comment.

“Don’t slow down”

He breaths out, eyebrows furrowing, his eyes shut, only grunts fill the cold air.

He opens his eyes, glossy and unfocused, and his face is deeply flushed—he is faced with your eyes stained with tears as you struggle to breathe—you nearly lose consciousness, how fragile your body is and how strong his is.

He chuckles at the sight—lust twisting his features, the grip around your neck finally loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by erratic breathing.

He uses the moment to prise his tongue into your open mouth, forcing himself into you. You try to push and trash, but he holds you firm against the wall, his tongue sweeping over your lips, against your teeth, claiming you—leaking your tears.

Tasting the life he can easily take away from you.

You wiggles slightly, when he rips off your pants off, those piercing blue eyes trying to get a glimpse of your nakedness as his cock is still out, his fist tightening around the base, stroking slowly as his eyes drift south—dragging his metal finger slowly through your slit, the other hand once again moves on the waist in the same place—it hurts, bruises already forming from his tight hold.

It is obvious that Winter is not human, his body, his dick is too big to be human. You shiver at the sight of his length, hard and needy. His eyes are completely blue, with no pupil or white, two seas full of desire—he will drown you in them.

Soldat lifts your leg to gain a better angle to your hole. Your lips are slick and swollen, but the opening is stretching tight around his cock, trying to enter you completely, you cry out, your back arching at the pain. You freeze, blood running cold as he slaps you hard across the face.

The dark-haired man stares back with ill-concealed suspicion.

He is big, wide and fills you deliciously—every time you assume that he's fully sheathed, he pushes in a bit more and makes you moan loudly.

You buckle your hips as best you can despite his rough movements, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate to feel him buried inside of you.

He is rough with you, not taking his time, not easing you into it.

“Please, slow down, it is too much-”

“Shut up and take it”

he trembles at the way you say beg, because of him, his mind was a blank canvas accosted by nothing—now, it is all about you, about pleasure.

And you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as if you are his prey. He thrust with force, you don’t even have time to adjust, he is too eager.

You moan both from pleasure and pain—It's so tight, squeezing the life out of his cock and he loves the idea of hurting you, it is too erotic not to think about it. He fucks you with lazy, slow thrusts, just enjoying the sensations of sex.

“You are taking me so good” he pants against your throat

he enjoys the suction feeling onto his cock, pummeling your cunt ruthlessly, hitting over the tender spot and you groan, loudly. Your throat feels raw from all the moans.

You exist there, whimpering, taking a fortifying breath, feeling the approach of your own orgasm, compressed by him as he ravages you, marks you.

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You immediately bite your lip, panting, stopping yourself from moaning more, but your spine bends back and your body stretches taut, insides clenching and spamming around his cock—the sound that escapes your lips is so unearthly that it drives him to the edge.

He slams into you as his cock explodes in an endless amount of cum, overflowing out of you, dripping on the floor. He groans as he continues to slam into you, even as you feel overly sensitive as your own orgasm reaches its peak.

He leans down, far enough that the dark ends of his hair brushes feather-light against your face, his metal hand is around your throat, squeezing tightly—you lose consciousness, thinking that he is killing you, but you just pass out.

Sex is another practiced art to him. Each move is calculated. His brain is programmed to perform, his body seducing his prey with ease, noting each response of his target.

Fear and seduction, repulsion and attraction—that's how corruption is spread, turning squalor and nastiness into thrill, seduces the target into his own web—and leaves with the corpse on his hands.

What a devilish creature, master of the art of Death and Seduction, all its nuance, all its depth and complexity—but he spared your life?

#okay but hear me out #winter soldier smut #winter soldier fic #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier fanfiction

485 notes · View notes

senseichaos · 3 months

Note

Howdy howdy! I ADORED "You Can't Run. Hell. You Can't Even Hide" The balance between absolute fear, dizzy hypnotic confusion, and wide eyed admiration that the reader character holds for Vox is immaculate! Also them calling him Mister Vox is just Chef's kiss (it is WAY too hard to find xReader fics or even just fics in general where the honorific is Mister (C/N) and I love every one I find). The clothing change moment was probably my favorite, I'll always be a sucker for the representation of being broken and rebuilt in someone's image combined with the gift of pretty clothes. I keep going back to reread the whole story.

I know it's a oneshot, but since your requests are open, I figured I'd shoot my shot and ask if you would make a part two where Mister Vox just wrecks us, preferably sexually. We did leave off on him finding us trying to run away, do we not deserve to be punished for such an offense after all he's done for us? I also would love to see if/how much Vox has to push us to slowly become happy to be his, if that's something he wants (I could imagine having a rowdy unwilling runaway as his possession would get frustrating after awhile and be terrible for his image). There's honestly so much potential for what could happen next, and even though I could stew in my imagination, I would very much love to be at the mercy of your interpretation of the funky TV man a little longer.

That said, take your time, I know you've gotten a huge influx of Hazbin requests, hell I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already requested something similar to what I requested. I also understand if you can't/don't want to fulfill this request for any reason, that's what makes it a request. No matter what, you're an amazing writer and I hope you have a wonderful day!

💙✨

AAAAAAH!! I love you sm! When I saw this request I knew I had to do it at some point! I'm giving you the name 💙 anon from now on so if you request again I know it's you!

_______

Forever and always

(part 2 to: You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either)

Summary: After that day you attempted to escape from Vox, you had become somewhat accustomed to this new life you are forced to be living. Or you were until Vox gives you your first day off, causing you to find something out that would change how you live forever.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Horror (?)

Warnings: Non-Con, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Masochism, Electric shocks, Mind control, Drugging, Love potion, Vox is an asshole, Hurtful language, forced, gilded cage, soul contracts, unprotected sex (DONT), Vox owns reader, dacryphilia, let me know if I missed any!!

(not proof read)

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That day you attempted to escape from your gilded cage you wished to escape again, though vox had managed to continue his control. Even when he tugged you back by your electric leash you felt that horrid sinking feeling. This was it. For the rest of eternity as you know it Vox has you. He owns you, your soul, your body, your life; or well, lack thereof. You couldn't run from him no matter what you did, he practically controls the pride ring, keeping you tethered there like a puppy on a leash is simple to him. He has eyes everywhere. You cannot hide anywhere.

Recently Mister Vox has become a lot more... Touchy. Those fleeting touches of his fingers against your back, poking against your chin, pressing into your neck, swiping against your bottom, touching against your bosom. There is an odd burning feeling to it, you don't want to enjoy Mister Vox touching you in such ways, you don't want to enjoy it when he sucks his teeth at you or licks his tongue against his gums. But you do. You can't quench that desire. Especially when he'd moved you into his room from your apartment building. He hadn't made you share a bed with him, thank Lucifer, but he had made you sleep near enough to him that you can tell when he's.. pleasuring himself. Almost as if he wants you to hear him.

You and Mister Vox have never been better, besides from such hurdles. You stay obedient no matter how badly you wish to escape his arms. To cut all of his tight bounds on your body and run away. You'd figure out how, one day, you would.

"Good morning my dear! Did you have a gratifying sleep?" This is how most mornings go, Mister Vox will wake you with a poke if your side and a coffee in hand, already fully dressed and done up. You've always considered yourself a light sleeper, so you never know how he manages to make you a coffee every morning without so much as stirring you awake. You smile, nodding softly as you pry your eyes from his two dimensional face.

"Thank you Mister Vox, uhm.. did you have a good sleep as well?" You ask, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Vox smiles, nodding as he takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"Of course, my dear. So, I know you have been working very hard recently... So I've decided to give you the day off!" Mister Vox declares, outstretching his hands as he gives you a manic smile. A day off? Why? This has to be a test. he's just going to leave you.. alone? For a whole day? This has to be fake, a joke, a flook.

"Oh my dear don't look so surprised! You've been a very good girl recently so I thought you deserved a day off," Mister Vox pauses, looking up at the roof for a second before peering back at you. "Now don't think this means we don't have rules, you are to stay in here for the day. If you want to go shopping I have to accompany you, alright? But I do have an appointment in an hour so it won't be for long,"

"Remember, I have eyes everywhere.."

You laugh awkwardly, shrinking into your own figure.

"I know Mister Vox.. I wouldn't forget," You can't stop that sorrow from entering your voice, but quickly you put on that mask of a smile once again. Mister Vox clasps his hands together, that red dripping from his maw again. "Great! Now I'll see you soon, be a good girl for me, hm?" He says, ruffling your hair atop your head with a condescending gaze.

"Yes Mister Vox," you reply simply, watching as he disappears in Into a blue line of electricity, shooting into the camera.

Fuck. Now what?

You can't remember the last time you were given this type of freedom, even if it wasn't a lot of freedom. Often you were tethered to Vox's side. Everyone in the building knows that you belong to Vox. Everyone outside of the building probably knows this, too.

There's this odd feeling in your stomach, this odd feeling as if you were floating. It happened every time you drank your morning coffee, but you'd always assumed it was just that feeling of awakening from slumber. But today, oh today it is stronger than ever before. It's as if you can feel every nerve in your body be rewired, every single hair on your body stand on end. Every sensation is doubled.

What the fuck was in this coffee? What is this euphoria? What is this yearning.. this yearning for Vox? You suddenly wish he was here, with you, holding you, calling you his good girl.. m

Shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you stand from your bed, fixing the large blue shirt you wear (that vox often asks you to wear when you sleep) as you walk to the kitchen.

The kitchen in Mister Vox's room is a large area just off to the side of his desk space, lined with many kitchen appliances and red cabinets. You are determined to figure out what he's putting in your coffee, what's making you feel so emotional. Needy. Awful. You scan the room, finding the coffee machine in the corner of the room with a couple bags next to it. Coffee, sugar, creamer... Nothing suspicious yet, it seems. Crouching down, you look open the cabinets beneath the coffee machine. Looking through the half full area.

Then you saw it, a small vial hidden behind a spare bag of creamer labeled 'Valentino and Velvette: Love potion'.

Terror shoots through you, causing you to drop the vial to the floor. It shatters everywhere, leaving the pink liquid to seep into the tiles below. He's drugging you. All this time, you feeling this want for him, burning at his touch, listening to him as he jerks himself off late at night. You wanting him to do things to you. It's all part of his plan to make you his, completely. To make you want to be his.

Burning tears fall down your cheeks, humoring you as you stand on shaky legs from the tile. What do you do? Now more than ever you want an out, a loophole, a way to take your soul back from his greedy claws. Anxiety, terror, hurt, worry, pain.

You want to prevent yourself from doing anything drastic, you really do. But all you can feel is this pain, this pain as you run on your feet to the balcony door. Trying your hardest to pry open the doors as they rattle loudly, shaking them, pulling them, pushing them. This evil man can't keep you here for any longer. You'd do anything to leave, ruin yourself for him, do something awful, make yourself less attractive to him.

Nausea. Headache. Your knees buckle as an electric blue overtakes your vision. What is this? You can't breathe, Vox. Vox. Help. Your head clouds, words fill your brain and you feel yourself being wrapped up by sharp claws. You can't scream. Help me. Please.

"You really think it's that easy?" Mister Vox.

"I can't believe I trusted you alone, even for a minute. After all I've done for you, as well. After I gave you a life some would dream for. Stupid girl." He sounds mad, horridly mad. Regretful. Throbbing takes over your body as sound waves film your ears. You can feel him lift you into his arms, placing you down onto a soft surface harshly.

"How am I supposed to make you understand this? You're mine,"

Your vision slowly comes back, until all you can see is him as he stares at you from above. His eyes are dark, domineering, needing. He's ready to take. What is he doing? All you can feel is his claw as it travels up your middle, between the valley of your breasts, stopping at the middle of your neck.

"Now, my dear? Are you going to let me teach you a lesson? For being such a brat?" You gasp, feeling his hand as it circles around your neck, effectively taking some air from your lungs. You shake your head, attempting to move your heavy legs from him with wet teary eyes.

"Nonono! Get off, please, get off!" You cry, writhing in his grasp. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he clicks his fingers. Suddenly a pulse of electricity goes through you, causing a shock to blur your eyes and pull a scream from you.

"Every time you try anything I'm shocking you, Dove. Don't try to escape from me, it's not going to work," he grins, laughing at your frightened teary eyes. "I can do whatever I want to you, my dear! I fucking own you!!" He growls, using his hand that isn't around your neck to push your thighs to your chest, revealing your bare pussy from beneath your oversized shirt.

"No please.. I'll do anything..?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, but this is what I want more than anything right now.. maybe you should have thought of this before making such a racket and alerting everyone in the building, hm?" He says, dragging his clawed finger through your building wetness. He finally takes his hand from your neck, instead using it to keep your thighs in place as he pinches your clit between his sharp claws.

"Ah! Mister Vox.. hurts..!" You wail, wiping your tears from your eyes as he continues to abuse your sensitive bud between his fingers. He chuckles looking up at you as you gasp in pain.

"Hah! Wail all you want, dear, no one can save you." Vox guffaws, finally taking his claws from your clit. Only to plunge them into your aching hole without warning. You moan out, feeling the sharpness of them inside of you as he curls his fingers into your g-spot.

Mister Vox revels in your wails of pain and pleasure, fucking you with his clawed fingers harsh and fast. His claws are surely are scratching you from the Inside, he can tell by the way your hands tremble and clasp over your lips.

You can't help but feel good. This masochism of yours that forces it's way into you. Every scratch of his fingers inside of you just makes you want to cum. You can't give him that satisfaction, you can't let him know that you are enjoying every second of his claws thrusting inside of you. This is awful. You hate it. You hate that you love it.

"Is my little dove enjoying this? Awe.. to scared to admit you fucking love this?" Vox laughs sadistically, giving you an extremely harsh thrust of his fingers into your g-spot. You squeal, vision going white for a moment as his fingers go at this manic speed. You feel your orgasm build, wishing to break through the walls and release. But you can't let it, you won't let him have that. You'll never let him have that feeling knowing he's won.

"If you don't cum I'll fucking ruin you, dove."

You gasp and choke on saliva, clawing on the bedsheets below as he forces you to orgasm. There's no getting out. He knows that you are trying not to cum. And he won't let it happen.

"Yes.. Mister Vox.." you say softly, hole clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Vox makes sure to drag it out, giving you slow rhythmic thrusts of his fingers to watch your body contract and writhe with pleasure.

"Good dove, listening to commands for me," He says softly, stroking the side of your cheek as he kneels between your legs. You want to pull away, but once again that burning and yearning feeling fills you. That stupid potion had an effect, and you can tell. From the way you feel a dizzy want when he looks at you to the wetness that continues to build between your thighs.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard.." He laughs so himself, smiling crazily as he presses his hand to his face. "I'm gonna fuck you SO FUCKING hard, you won't even remember who I am anymore! How does that sound, my little slut?" Your lower lip wobbles as more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"Awful.." you whisper.

Another strong electric shock goes through you, causing you to scream out Mister Vox's name in pain as your body is left shaking and aching.

From the corner of your eye, you see Vox unzipping his fly.

"Wrong answer! Haha! Wrong fucking answer stupid slut," He growls, pressing the tip of his cock to your hole without a care. There something wrong with him, he's acting more crazy than ever before. He's getting off on your fear, getting off on your pain, getting off on knowing you can't do anything but be his.

With a loud slap, Vox sinks his entire length into you. You scream, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life as he looms over you. He doesn't even give you a moment to let you rest, immediately setting a ruthless pace with his hips into yours. Every thrust causes your vision to go spotty with the pure force he drives his hips with, groaning with every thrust as he stares completely into your face as it scrunches in a pleasurable pain.

"S'too much! M-Mister vox It hurts!" You cry, reaching out to press your hands against his shoulders, clawing into his coat. You don't even care anymore, you want at least a small bit of comfort from these strong unforgiving thrusts. Vox chuckles at this, leaning down closer so he can capture your lips in a (forced) yet passionate kiss.

His long electric blue tongue immediately finds its way into your gob, passionately fornicating it against your own as his thrusts send you into a sort of floaty state. Vox maps the entirety of your mouth, tasting every crevice of you from your lips to the back of your throat. He thrusts almost ravenously like a dog, tip of his cock sometimes painfully pressing against your cervix.

Pulling away, Mister Vox looks Into your eyes, revelling in the way you claw at his back. You whimper and moan loudly, eyes fluttering closed as a tear falls down your cheek. He kisses it away, looking up at your closed eyes with a grin.

"Open your eyes, dove. Look at me while I fuck you." You cry out, opening your eyes for him so you can see him look at you with pleasure.

"Y-yes Mister- Ah! Vox.."

He chuckles, thrusting into you extremely hard. You can see the bulge of his cock in your stomach, poking against your skin in such a way you almost want to touch it.

"I'd fucking breed you if I could, fill your filthy cunt with all my little babies so then you can't even dream of leaving.. but I can imagine," Vox rambles, taking your cheek into his hand so he can look at you longingly- and almost affectionately. If it weren't for the position you're in you'd almost be enjoying this moment.

"Mister Vox!" You cry, back arching as your orgasm begins to prod at your stomach.

"Hm?" He asks, grunting as he thrusts into you.

"Can I cum? Please! Please please please.." You beg, legs quivering wildly. Vox chuckles, giving you an adoring look as you bite your lower lip.

"Awe look at you! Asking Mister Vox to cum and everything.." Vox begins, biting his lip as you sputter on a moan. "Of course you can, dove. Let go so I can fuck my cum into you.."

You scream his name when you cum, digging your nails so hard into his back you're sure his coat has tears in it.

You'd given up. Well and truly. You wouldn't admit it. But you've finally accepted it. You belong to Mister Vox. Forever and always.

Forever and Always.

Vox gives you one last thrust, emptying his cum into you with a moan from his own lips. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, Vox drags out his orgasm by serving you a few more small quick thrusts, making sure every last drop is inside of you.

But when he has, he doesn't pull out.

"Mister Vox.. pull out.." you whimper, wiggling your hips against him.

"Haha! As if. I said i'd fuck my cum into you, didn't I? I haven't done that yet.. okay?" He asks, stroking a hand through your hair.

"Yes Mister Vox."

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #lovely anon #senseichaosanons #💙 anon #vox #yandere vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x reader angst #angst

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beanibon · 5 months

Note

GIVE ME A READER WHO KNIVES IS TEACHING HOW TO PLAY PIANO AND HE FUCKS THE READER WHILE THEY PLAY AND PUNISHES THEM IF THEY MESS UP PLEASE POOKIE

-@millionsvash

Lesson Number One

TW: Smut, potential dubcon, porn w/o plot, cock warming, orgasm denial, p in v, degradation and praise, choking, slight nipple play, rough sex.

Your mouth felt dry, hot and clammy as delicate fingers grazed your vulnerable throat. With your body shaking, quivering with embarrassment and pleasure, your mind could not focus on which note was next.

Resulting in your fifth mistake.

A disapproved sigh sounded behind you, saliva forced down with a harsh swallow, one that felt as if you had a stone in your throat. You awaited nervously for your punishment, whimpers of excitement and fear escaping you.

"You humans are useless, how many times must I correct you? This isn't rocket science, nor something vastly more difficult, it's as if you wish to suffer by my hand." Knives grumbled, those once gentle fingers squeezing the air from your lungs.

Eyes rolled deep into your skull, you gasped, drool sliding from the corners of your lips. The walls of your cunt convulsed, a growl of restraint echoing around the disturbing room of sanctum, his cock twitching within you.

"Filthy slut, to think death turns you on." Knives surged forward, smirking as you unceremoniously faceplanted against the keys. A hideous melody played out, an idea popped into the Independent's mind.

Flipping your bare body over, forcing you to look into those beautiful, deadly eyes. Knives pressed you painfully into his most precious possession, the keys singing a horrid tune. It would've made your ears hurt, if Knives crazed look of lust, anger and disgust didn't make you squirm uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll never forget a single key again. I'll fuck it so deep in that human brain of yours until it's engraved in it!"

Before you could even protest, your cries mixed with the slamming of piano keys, filling the room. Anyone passing by would instantly know of the vile sins their Master and his pet were committing. After all, why would he ever purposely make such awful music?

There was no silencing your cries either. No, Knives liked to hear you scream his name, let everyone know that you're his filthy, whorish pet.

Fingers pinched and pulled at your swelling nipples, causing your legs to kick out. Never was he gentle, always being cruel to the point you wept in painful pleasure.

With each thrust, hips colliding with your pelvis, that piano spewed out its awful melody. And the more Knives heard, the more he wanted you ruined against it.

"What's the matter? Is my mutt getting close?" As you nodded, unable to form a proper sentence, Knives chuckled. "Good."

All movement ceased, Knives roughly flipping you, cock still buried to the hilt inside your dripping cunt. Slamming your face against the keys, his crazed eyes stared expectedly at you.

"Well? Aren't you going to play?" He cooed mockingly, fists full of your hair.

You couldn't believe it. Eyes wide with disbelief that Knives expected you to play, a song you struggled with in a sound mind, not close to drenching his cock in your orgasmic juices. Yet when slammed against the keys once more, nose aching from the impact, you knew he wasn't playing around.

Mind clouded, vision foggy from the euphoria of your cunt being ruined, you began to shakily play out the song Knives so dutifully began teaching you. Such a generous soul he was, allowing a mere human to touch the gorgeous piano he adored. You tried to be thankful for the opportunity, but in this exact moment, it proved to be quite difficult.

As it approached the part you often screwed up, Knives attempted to shove his cock in further, purposely. The fucker wanted you to screw up, to punish you.

So you could imagine his disappointment when you succeeded in remembering the notes.

With a deep, disappointed frown, Knives huffed. Slamming his cock into you, feeling as you came instantly from the sudden action, legs quivering as your juices coated his inhuman member.

Pulling out, watching as his cum dribbled down you quivering legs, Knives began walking towards the doors. No after-care. You were use to it, thankful that each day pleasing him was a day you lived.

"I suppose you did well, some congratulations are in order. However," Knives looked over his shoulder, watching as you leant against the front of his piano. "I would've preferred if you failed. That way, you'd be stuffed and bred for your mistakes."

You swallowed, feeling your core ache and moisten from those words alone. If you had've just played the wrong note, that tight pussy would be stuffed for hours until you were fat with Knives child.

"Oh well, there is always next time you fail to complete a simple task." With that, your tormentor left.

Leaving you. All alone, wishing you just screwed up to have him fuck you until the next morning.

A/N: HI GUYS! Hope you enjoyed my lil smutfic, the first one since I'm back. Feel free to give any feedback, and remember my requests are open!

Love you guys heaps!

#trigun stampede #trigun #trigun x reader #trigun smut #millions knives x reader #knives smut #knives x reader #knives millions #millions knives #million knives x reader #millions knives smut #millions knives x you #trigun knives #nai x reader #beanibon asks

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Madam Butterfly sister Ainz sound interesting even more if they are a school teacher

It makes me think that in game she have a secret tittle of being of Mother Of Umbra who she taken in human and nonhuman children who are orphans ( NPC that she created ) and they are loyal to her and often calling her mother while also act as soldiers and assassin's ( think of witches from Bayonetta and this one game that I forgot but it kinda liked dark souls ) with the studies that she taught them ( like math, science, reading and writing, and also tell them to think outside of traditional means and be creative by used of arts )

How would Sebas, Demiurge, Nigredo, Albedo, and Pestonya

Meeting one of her children ( who is fully adult ) she taken in as they sending messages and works for their mother as she currently busy in her floor area of the tomb

Mother To All | Yandere Overlord X Madam Butterfly Sister Reader

The Butterfly Sorceress of the Sorcerer Kingdom is widely known and highly regarded by anyone who speaks of you. Despite being a demoness you are known for your compassionate decrees and your twisted form of affection. So any creature human or not+ under your reign should be treated with respect

Even the human witch who’s working on the newest floor of Nazarick:

Sebas Tian

“You must be the newest addition to Mistress (User)’s children. I am Sebas Tian, the head butler of Nazarick. It's a pleasure.”

He’s cordial

And he may have an inkling of compassion for humans being saved from horrifying circumstances

They have been chosen by you

Becoming your property thus worthy of his protection

Besides he can happily get updates on whatever you're doing

An awesome privilege to be friendly with your children

Demiurge

“You..? We’re given the privilege of serving our Mistress? Hm.”

He’s disgusted by the human status of most of your property

He’s also jealous of how much time they get from your teachings

The idea of mere human filth having more access to you than him

He hates the creature with his whole being

And it does cross his mind to…cause an accident or two…

Sometimes he succeeds but Cocyutus or Sebas will usually catch on

“Why I was simply attempting to provide aid but I see that my immense strength is doing more harm than good. My apologies…I hope you take good care of our Mistress (User)”

Nigredo

“Y-you a-are one of the ones in her family?”

She naturally admires you anyway

But you’re compassion for humans that Ainz seems not to rely on attracts her on a deeper level

She happily moves to follow after you

And admires how you gather your children

If she could leave she’d find more humans and outcasted creatures to add to your family

“Serve (User)-sama well, human. It is a privilege to even bear witness to a gracious supreme being.”

Albedo

“Hmph! For a second don’t think anything you have here requires your existence. My supreme being is more than something as puny as you! ”

She’s so so so jealous

She wants you to speak over her shoulder while you correct her work

Or the punishment she might receive for getting all the problems wrong

Her imaginations fuel her wet dreams about you

And she’s jealous a stupid weak insufficient human gets to have that place

“You overstep I will delight in stabbing you over and over and over and over again.”

Pestonya

“Woof! Welcome to (User)-sama’s family!”

Similar to Nigredo she only comes to acknowledge how much more she admires you because of this tactic

It appreciates humans which many of the floor guardians and Ainz not really don’t do that

She knows it’ll be a fight to see who gets to work under you

She desperately carries on your love of education

Tail wagging and swooning every time you praise your children her

“(User)-sama is your savior. Be sure to work your hardest! Woof!”

#yandere overlord anime #yandere overlord albedo #yandere overlord #yandere demiurge #yandere sebas tian #yandere pestonya #yandere nigredo #yandere albedo x reader #yandere Overlord #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Text

Silas asks #3

Previous one Next one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: a little nswf indication, death, indication of suicide, torture,

— ☁️ SILAS AND HEDWIG...! i also thought of them 😌 yanderes that are ruthless to everyone but has a soft side for their darling >>> silas reminds me of a huge teddy bear tbh 😓 he's probably so touchy if only you allow him to. grrr... the thought of sitting on his lap and snuzzling on his chest 😡

Omg yes he does :(( He's so addicted to you, never keeping his hands to himself. He doesn't care if it's only holding your hand or making you his, he loves to be close. Sitting on his lap and cuddling into his chest would be the death of him. Oh, he'd love it so much :((

— Y'know the urge to draw silas is cat ears is something brewing maybe even adding hedwig and jerry (small chance for dr.kry but its still there) to the list who knows not sure to go with my demons or nah

NO. SHOO. LEAVE. NO KITTY EARS ON SILAS

— How would Silas feel about a motherly type of darling? When he comes home from missions injured she absolutely insists on attending his wounds. And when he's sick, she takes care of him, nursing him back to health. She can't just stand by and watch someone else suffer after all!

He'd love it so much! He'd fall for you so badly. If you had any chance to escape before, now there's none. He'll watch over you like a hawk. He knows he doesn't deserve a kind soul like you, but he's so selfish that he'll keep you for himself.

"Thank you so much, baby, but, ouch, you shouldn't ... shouldn't do this. You shouldn't patch me up. I know you want to take care of me, but that's my job! I should take care of you, baby. Not the other way around. But ... thank you so much ... I love you."

— I just read your peice about attempting to escape Silas, and AHHHH Silas REALLY pisses me off!!!.......... And that's how you know you have a very well written villain!!! I thoroughly enjoyed reading that, and can't wait to read more in the future! Keep up the good work (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆~🥀

haha thank you so much!! there will be more of Silas stupid behaviour in the future, don't you worry!

— What would happen if reader died or became seriously ill after Silas puts them in the basement for a while?

He'll be so sad and regret everything he's ever done. If you survive, he'll be much, much more careful. He'll never do that again. He nearly lost you! Silas can't imagine a life without you.

But if you died ... he'd break apart.

— Gosh seeing how Silas reacted to darling being sick. But like when it comes to me. I can alread imagine how he would be. Cause my immune system sicks I get sick easily...Then there's the fact that I'm clumsy af, I always have random bruises or cuts and don't notice them until I'm in the bath.

Silas would be in constant stress, my friend. You'd give him a heart attack.

— When Silas says he's gonna torture us as punishment at the end of "You Can't Hide From Me" What kind of torture? Like physical, psychological, etc?

I wanted to leave that up to the readers interpretation, but I thought maybe some kind of psychological. When he says that he'll make them know only him, he'll break them down until they don't remember anything but him. He'll destroy them.

— Oh, I’m going to torture you. Badly. What did Silas do to us?

...next question.

— What is Silas’ body count?

Let's say around ten. He's been out and about, tried different things here and there, but nowadays, he only wants you. And he makes sure you know that with how far beyond he'll take you :]

— How many people has Silas killed?

Maybe around thirty? He does half the dirty work himself and half he sends out his men to do.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere mafia oc #silas oc #yandere headcanon

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animentality · 5 months

Note

seen some posts joking about gortash’s “anti-anxiety coat” due to the immune to frightened enchantment, and its probably not that deep or meta but i actually do find it a compelling look at how he really does walk around almost supernaturally fearless. like even when you threaten him he brushes it off like its funny or just nonsense, if worth reacting to at all! even when you meet him at the morphic pools to face down the netherbrain, his words convey a lack of confidence in winning but his tone and body language do not. and i think part of it is that he is insane (affectionate) but also, possibly, the power of the anti-anxiety coat lol.

he also does things like robbing the crown of karsus from the personal vault of the archdevil mephistopheles, and befriending a bhaalspawn on purpose. things that normal people or even average villains probably wouldnt dream of attempting, and he pulled them off near-flawlessly. but if he’s so effortlessly unflappable, why the coat enchantment right? the game could have made “immune to frightened” an inherent feature, but they made it something he only gains from his equipment. it’s just interesting to think about!

and since i am thinking about it… if we imagine that he is genuinely prone to anxiety or panic attacks, and has difficulty controlling it enough to be worried about appearances in public and have a whole enchanted coat about it, what do you think he’s actually scared of? does he have more of a generalised anxiety thanks to growing up in hell and etc, or do you think there are specific things that really get to him? is it other people? politics, secretly? the idea of powerlessness?

ironically i think the dark urge would probably be the only thing that genuinely does not scare him in the least, and couldnt if they tried.

I think that he was a scared little boy when his parents sold him to pay off their debts.

I don't believe his parents, when they said that he was a spiteful and hateful wretch from birth. Nubaldin says that they sold him to pay off a petty debt.

Now either of them could be lying, but I fail to see why Nubaldin would lie to you. He has no reason to, he just thinks you're one of the spirits of the damned.

Gortash's mom, on the other hand, would lie because she hates Gortash for tadpoling her, and it would be her justification for what she did to him. Plus, she's hoping you can save her, so she has to make herself look sympathetic.

So I think Gortash was hurt and abandoned, and enslaved by an awful devil, who allowed his servants to beat him black and blue. Everyone in the House of Hope is a miserable wretch. The Archivist mentions that his spine was like...I think punctured or broken for making a mistake?

And we know Nubaldin used to "bruise his knuckles" on Enver's "whimpering face."

So he must've been terrified, all of the time he spent imprisoned in the House of Hope. Of being punished, of being trapped there forever...

So when he manages to escape one day, slipping out due to a silly mistake on Nubaldin's part...

What's the first thing he would do?

Try to attain power. But not just because he's scared and wants to feel powerful! I actually have another theory.

See...some people data mined the game and discovered that Gortash might've been intended to be in the House of Hope at some point... because Raphael still has his contract.

So he's still not free of Raphael, even though he escaped him.

He has a note on his body, indicating that he might've been speaking with Helsik about going back, so he could get his contract, presumably.

Now imagine this poor lost young man...whose parents sold him. Who spent his childhood being tortured by souls of the damned and the devil and his servants.

He would never ever want to go back there. Not in life, not in death.

So what does he need to do?

Become powerful.

Strong enough to raid the hells, and either kill Raphael, or at least steal back his contract. so what does he turn to first?

Weapons. The black market. People who know about slipping in and out of the hells, and how to kill monsters, demons, and all other manner of creature.

Then, he needs to curry favor with a powerful god. One who can help him. One who can use him, for his fear and desperation. Who is a good god to turn to for that?

Bane. God of tyranny. Someone who could have use for him, if only he was clever and ruthless enough. And young Enver Gortash has a lot to prove.

And he would be drawn to the power of Bane, the ability to force others to submit to your will.

And the Dead Three?

That's even more power for him to obtain.

Siding with Ketheric, finding the Dark Urge...

I mean.

Listen.

Just on a character level, a powerless abuse victim seeking power does make sense...but I also think.

Wouldn't it be interesting, if he was doing all of this, so that he could both obtain power for himself...and also obtain the power he would need to kill Raphael?

Just food for thought.

Anyway.

Off topic.

Back to the subject of his cloak...well.

He would never want to be afraid again.

Fake it till you make it. Maybe he made or bought the cloak with the no fear enchantment so that he could fake confidence and power, until he actually had it?

Either way, it makes sense with his backstory. It's also so goddamn sad.

Also, he should be afraid of the dark urge, but isn't. Maybe that's why they were drawn to one another.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #dark urge

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roguerambles · 1 year

Text

Options

Record of Ragnarok - Male!Reader

Warnings - Mentions of Adult Situations. Jerkass Gods being Jerkasses.18+ Only.

Image from Google.

So, I may have started Record of Ragnarok yesterday. It’s a bit of slow start, but I find the concept and character designs fascinating, so I’m pretty intrigued!

I’ve also wanted to write Male!Reader for a while, but muse has been pretty low for me lately. I think this helped, because I’ve got some ~ideas~ kicking around in my brain box haha. This is kind of a prologue of sorts for future shenanigans (Most of which involve a son of Aphrodite sleeping his way through Ragnarok, oops-) Enjoy this blasphemy!

The Einherjar were delicious.

Oh, you were certain that was not why Brunhilde had selected the champions of humanity, but it hadn’t escaped your notice the men were gorgeous. Some of the most beautiful men in existence, the most skilled, virile warriors to have ever walked the earth were all gathered in one spot, adrenaline in their veins as they prepared for the battle that would decide humanity’s fate.

And there you were. Stuck on the Heavens side of the Arena, where Mother Aphrodite had insisted you remain, completely unable to interact with any of them.

It was so unfair.

“Do stop pouting, darling.” Aphrodite sipped at her chalice of wine, glancing at you over the head of one of her servants. “You’re bringing down the mood somewhat.”

Round One was over, decided in the gods favour. Lu Bu, the Flying General, the Strongest Warrior in the Three Kingdoms, had been defeated, his soul now gone from the Gods Realm. An absolutely glorious specimen of mortal manhood you would now never share a bed with.

Of course you were pouting.

“Am I being punished for something?” You asked glumly, watching as Thor fought his way through the fallen Lu Bu’s army, charging in to avenge their general, or share his fate. The God of Thunder’s muscled body rippled with power as he tore through his attackers like wet paper, and you bit your lower lip, crossing your legs, heat flaring low in your gut, imagining that strength turned to more pleasurable uses.

“Nonsense, darling.” Aphrodite waved her hand dismissively, a smile playing on her lips. “If I was punishing you, I would have told you about the human “incarnation of desire” currently bedding his way through half the arena.”

You liked this man already, and gave your mother a betrayed look. “What did I do?!”

Aphrodite simply smiled, and turned her attention back to the arena. “Consider the options, dear, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

You slumped back in you seat, glowering.

It was not as if there was a lack of options on the Heavens side. Aside from Thor himself, Lord Shiva had sat near you and Aphrodite throughout Round One, his naked torso showing off a flawless physique. His biceps were exquisite and practically begged to be caressed, and his four arms and their possible bedroom applications sent your imagination reeling. Heracles was somewhere around, and you had always wanted the opportunity to fully test the God of Fortitude’s stamina…

But everyone was fixated on the damn fighting that all your attempts at flirtation were largely unnoticed.

So unfair…

But Thor would be celebrating his victory, his blood hot and passions inflamed. Surely Aphrodite wouldn’t object to you going to congratulate him...?

“Mother—”

“Ares, what did you think about the battle?”

You huffed and slumped in your chair as Ares approached, his grumpy expression brightening at your mother’s attention.

You settled for watching the muscles move under Thor’s skin as he began to leave the arena, the bodies of his foes dissolving at his feet. He glanced up into the stands, and you went still as his gaze met yours. For a (only slightly) embarrassing moment you feared he had somehow sensed your thoughts. You caught the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his stoic mouth, the faintest tilt of his head in acknowledgment, before turning and continuing on his way, quickly disappearing from sight.

Maybe if I’m quiet nobody will notice me sneak away…

You glanced around. Aphrodite was distracted talking with Ares, who at this moment only had eyes for her. Lord Zeus and Hermes were curiously absent from the King’s balcony, and Lord Shiva was gone too. You knew he was meant for Round Two, so you assumed he must have went to prepare.

Perhaps I should wish him good luck…

You slid out of your seat, casting one more look over your shoulder, then slowly crept towards the exit, careful not to make any noise.

Almost…almost…

Your fingers grazed the cool stone doors. You froze in place, waiting for a scolding, but you heard nothing but the murmur of the crowd, of gods chatting eagerly about the upcoming match.

You pushed the door open slowly, just a enough to slip through. It then closed behind you, leaving you in the dim light of the corridor outside.

Yes.

Elation flared within you, and you barely resisted dancing on the spot, your mind already whirling with possibilities. Biting down a grin, you started walking, glad you had decided to wear your most appealing outfit. There was time before the next Round, and plenty of people to spend time with…

It was, after all, good to consider one’s options.

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok fanfic #record of ragnorak x reader #male reader #record of ragnorak x male reader

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maegalkarven · 5 months

Text

Another piece of unpolished writing is set free.

Post Noah reveal, Lord Enver Gortash and his favorite (traitorous) assassin attempt to have a long-awaited talk.

Durgetash, trans!Durge. Nsfw (this is the part where they tear into each other like starved animals.)

There's a loud, ringing noise in Gortash's ears, and the full weight of Bane's disapproval over his shoulders. That's the problem with masters; the moment you act out of their allowed narrative is the moment you're getting punished.

Enver knows he will meet torture upon death, the consequences of servitude just keep piling up. First Raphael and House of Hope, always ready to take is soul back, now the Black Lord. Enver wonders who'll get the first claim over his soul in case of his death, and if adding just another force after it will complicate the whole process, buying him time, or will it doom him even more.

He would swore to every god imaginable, if only to watch them all fight over his soul afterwards, the vultures gods truly are. Not that different from the devils, after all.

"You're quiet," a familiar voice mentions. "Calm. This is concerning."

He thinks about laughing right into Bhaalspawn's face, then decides against it.

"Would you prefer me to have a tantrum?" He replies instead.

He doesn't look to see Levi take a step forward, careful as if worried he'd spook him. Like they are strangers, like the entire plot Levi unmade piece by piece wasn't of their creation.

Traitor.

"I would prefer if you gave me reaction," another step. "Any reaction."

"And why," he finally looks up and his gaze immeditely gets stuck to the mess in the place where Levi's right eye used to be. Bloody Orin. Maybe he can put together a smart implant for the eye.

Foolish, thinking about all the ways he can improve Bhaalspawn even now. "Do you care?"

Levi takes another drastic step forward, ending chest to chest with Gortash, his breath ghosting over Enver's face.

"You said it," he tries to smile and fails, expression coming out in a grimace. "I am your nearest and dearest. We have a child, for fucks sake, it ought to mean something."

This is a low blow. Any mention of Noah is, especially as it's still stuck in his mind: the image of Noah throwing himself into his father's embrace, of Levi catching him into his arms and clutching into for dear life.

Like he cares. Like he didn’t abandon Noah there to begin with.

"You just met him," he pushes through the gritted teeth, trying to relax his jaw. "Don't act like you care."

Levi blinks at him, confused and genuine.

This is not his Levi, and yet it is.

Parts are missing, parts are misplaced, but important things are all the same.

Enver watches, transfixed, as his hand raises, as if on it's own accord, to lay on the bhaalspawn's neck, first gently, then it closes over the man's throat and squeezes.

Levi's eyes bulge, but he has the audacity to not fight, to simply take the abuse in. He lays his own hand over Enver and caresses it. Enver squeezes tighter.

"I asked you one thing," he lets out, low and angry. "One damn thing: leave the Iron Throne alone. But you just had to snoop around, did you? You just had to ruin every single of my carefully constructed plans-"

The bhaalspawn finally decides he dislikes being chocked to death, and thus forcibly tears Enver's hand off his throat. He coughs, squeezing Gortash's hand in his still, thrumb caressing the calloused skin underneath the gauntlet.

The gauntlet absent of netherstone, because it was taken from Enver the same way everything was taken from him.

He thinks if he lets himself be angry, he will never stop.

"Charming," Levi finally weezes out between the coughs. "I can see why I like you so much."

"Why you liked me so much," Gortash corrects. "Past tense."

The bhaalspawn gives him a weird look.

"No, Enver," he argues, and the sound of Enver's name on his tongue has no right to sound so sweet.

Enver hates this man with the burning passion.

"Like. Present tense," he moves to be even closer, despite it quitle literally being impossible. Enver stands his ground, which rewards him with Bhaalspawn being all but wrapped around him.

The earthy scent ambushes his senses; the smell of grass and blood and dying leaves and something distictly animal-

Then a mouth closes over his, intent in it's unrelenting force; swift tongue opens Enver's lips and slides in.

He thinks of bitting this tongue off, even as he feels his own muscles relax, betraying him in their urgent need to re-capture the familiar scene.

He doesn't fight back, but doesn't respond either; being as still as statue as every inch of his body screams at him to do someting, take control, wrap his hand around Levi's hair and pull, push the man on the table and-

Levi's moan vibrates through the kiss, the hot, eager tongue licking at his teeth, being everywhere at once, overbearing, overstimulating-

It's just a kiss.

It feels like Levi is trying to devour him. Enver's hands move on his own accord, entangling in a long, messy hair and finally doing what they itched to do.

Levi let's out a surprised laugh as his head is violently yanked back. Then he pushes forward as Enver keeps pulling back.

"Aw, but I liked what I was doing," the bhaalspawn cooes, lips red and wet with saliva, single eye unfocused. "I love how you taste, I want to taste all of you."

"Of course you do," Enver grunts as his leg, again without any command given, moves to press firmly between the bhaalspawn's legs.

Levi giggles.

"Oh, good," he smiles. "You're responding. And here I was worried Karlach's beating made you impotent."

Enver growls. He'll show this arrogant asshole who thinks he can waltz in and out Enver's life how potent he truly is.

The bhaalspawn won't be able to move for days after that.

Some of his intents had to reflect on his face, for Levi looks positively elated.

"Yes," he murmurs, voice low and full of lust. "Do that. Tear into me, break me into pieces, destroy me and pull me back anew-"

"I will. Don't say you didn't ask for this," Enver threatens and knows very well Levi will not say that. Levi will take all Enver has to offer and will take it with grace.

Bhaalspawn smiles, beautiful and tantalizing.

"Promises, promises..."

***

It's like coming home. The thought is annoying, it's embarassing, and yet it refuses to leave.

The moment Enver slides into Bhaalspawn, the man sprawled underneath him - yes, on the table - hands held firmly in Enver's own - it feels like all the last months of sleep-deprivation, stress and the perfect plan falling apart didn’t happen.

It feels like the first time, with Levi cowered from head to toe in blood and viscera, with Enver letting him press into himself even so, knowing very well his clothes will be ruined by the impact.

It's the powerful rush of something primal, something bigger than he can ever become, a wave of affection so deep he feels like he is drowning.

Three years ago he was trying his best to tear out these feelings. Two years ago be prayed to Bane to free him from the prison of useless emotions.

A year ago he decided it would be better if Levi simply disappeared; out of the sight, out of his mind, out of his life.

Several months ago his dreams came to life, while his heart, stimulatiously, stopped.

Now he can breathe, even as the ocean of feelings rushes in, drowns him in it, pulls him under-

Not even death can free him from Leviathan Anchev, not Leviathan's and not his own. He walked himself into his own trap, and the doors are locked shut.

"Enver," his destroyer murmurs underneath, a picture perfect image of demise. Beautiful, bloody, mad with hunger what has nothing to do with his urges. Enver's back itches with the new scratches what were torn into it just now, the force of Levi's affection presenting itself in deep bloody slices of skin bleeding all over Gortash's back.

He leans in to kiss his name off Leviathan's lips, to make him light-headed, to steal the life out of these lungs.

His, his, his-

"Mine," he says aloud and feels Levi's tongue on his palm.

"Yours," the monster he tamed agrees. "Only yours. Please, Enver, I will die if you stop, I will tear at your flesh and chew on your bones if you don't-"

He snorts, and Levi stops his rant long enough to look offended.

"Don't be so dramatic," he caresses the tensed thigh with his clawed fingers, leaving light red marks on its wake. Levi moans. "I will take you and I will not stop taking you till there's nothing left. I will drink you up to the bottom and swallow it down. You fell back to me willingly - you're never getting out."

Levi suddenly rises on his elbows to pull him closer, forehead to forehead. He looks unexpectedly gentle, too gentle for someone who's being fucked out of his mind.

"Good," he murmurs and then pulls Enver's lower lip into his mouth and bites hard. He licks and sucks at the blood as Enver hisses through gritted teeth, his movements losing rhythm and becoming uneven. "I don't want out. This is where I want to end, you're the one I want to end me," and with that he squeezes his lower muscles, making Enver push in harder and hissing under the new pressure. "Have you ever heard of praying mantis?"

Enver actually laughs at that, the vibration going through both of their bodies.

"You have used them as an example of what you want to do to me, yes," he huffs, kissing the side of his lover's head where the broken horn meets the skin. Levi chuckles, then moans, then adjusts position slightly, changing the angle and letting Gortash reach even further.

"Then you know how much I love you," he hums.

No, he doesn't, or he didn't, or maybe he refused to know.

He kisses the corner of stubborn mouth as he feels release build up inside; Levi lets out a small, breathless huff.

"Enver," he whispers as Gortash captures his lips in a kiss, a single word caressing him like a promise.

"Me too," Enver agrees. "Hold on for me, will you?"

Levi does, and so they finish together in this so overused by bad erotica novels way, practically merging into one being at the top of the extasy. Levi reaches out and bites into his shoulder; blood, red and hot, dripping down his chin. Enver lets go of his hands in favor of sinking his claws into there the thigh connects to the bottom, piercing skin in the process.

Enver doesn't remember what sex without violence is and he wouldn't want it any other way.

He lets go of the thighs to press shaking Levi into himself as they ride out the waves of pleasure. Levi's teeth are still in his shoulder, his hands are losing themselves in his hair, his tail is wrapped around Enver's leg so tightly the man starts to feel it getting numb.

Even as all of his plans have crushed and burned around him, Gortash still has one victory left.

This, the child of Bhaal lost in his clutches.

He will not allow him go.

#dark urge: levi #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #the dark urge x enver gortash #family matters #I'm too tired to polish things and post them properly #on ao3 with tags and names and shit #so here we go #take it or leave it #dumb future husbands who can't live without annoying each other to the point of madness

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dezertvideogames · 4 months

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Ultrakill: Suffering Leaves Suffering Leaves

I have to talk about why the name of this song in the violence level is so clever!

CW: Suicide Mention, Religious Talk, Violence

MAJOR ULTRAKILL SPOILERS

So during the violence layer we come across the suffering trees of the labyrinth, and it's paired with the melancholy song Suffering Leaves Suffering Leaves.

This song is not alone in its melancholy undertones, but it sticks out due to its title, and a background themes of suicide strewn throughout the game, but especially its intro.

We start of the level in complete silence.

The trees demand violence in the form of blood ,summoning silhouettes made of blood to fight, in the form of people writhing and stumbling about in an attempt to fight you.

After feeding the trees they become imbued with blood and sprout leaves, while the song slowly kicks in.

Then we get the level name: No Sound, No Memory

The trees after being fed resemble a the human figure being impaled, their blood becoming a beautiful canopy. You don't think much of it and continue to stumble around in almost complete darkness, catching only the bright white roots and bramble of a dense forest.

Now... Have you heard of Dante's Inferno?

Assuming you haven't Dante's Inferno is a famous Christian poem where an Italian guy depicts hell level by level in order to roast his least favorite people of that time. In doing so Dante accidentally created the most detailed and references description of hell, in which many traits have become excepted in the canon interpretation of Christian hell.

One of the layers he comes across is Violence.

And one of the places he comes across there is a murky woods, based in the violence against one's self.

The woods of suicides... punishment of suicide being separated from one's body for all eternity and tormented outside it.

Dante waltzes around this forest discovering that the dead souls of the unfortunate who have committed suicide are encapsulated in the bramble, bushes, and trees of the forest.

There is something still human to these trees as described by Dante. Painters have interpreted this in many ways, leaving the trees in a somewhat humanoid shape, showing faces of agony or splayed arms protruding from bark...

In Dante's poem he writes of harpys plucking and eating the leaves of the suffering trees, where they cry out and plead for the rest of hell's years, unable to even move.

So the Ultrakill forest and the song

I can only imagine the amount of people who simply ended themselves during the end of the world as they know it in ultrakill, unable to take anymore of the senseless violence they themselves inherently created.

To become exactly as Dante warned, nothing more but suffering leaves. Sad, melancholy suffering leaves.

As suffering in this world left nothing for them but eternal suffering.

#ultrakill #violent video games #video games #christianity #religion #dante's inferno #cw spoilers #suffering leaves suffering leaves #cw sui mention #video game analysis #I now have to go to my advanced creative nonfiction class #ty for reading my ramblings

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another-lost-mc · 2 months

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Wait so like, how do angels fall again- was it ever explained? Is it a rare thing that happens (Does 'father' deal with the banishment of these angels or is it the higher ranking angels that cast them away)

So this is where I play fast and loose with the lore we have and what I imagine personally.

I think "Father" is sort of absent the way the Demon King is absent, and it's up to the highest-ranking angels (Michael and previously Lucifer) to interpret the Celestial Realm's rules and teachings and apply suitable punishment as needed. If Father speaks to them "directly," it's more like a voice or feeling that his spirit? soul? sends out like a message, or an order, and angels are expected to obey him.

In terms of punishments, being cast out (fallen) is the harshest one aside from death although which is worse is debatable amongst some angels. During the rebellion between Lucifer and his brothers and their Father, I believe their punishment was swift and merciless. What they did was blasphemous and essentially treason - I don't think they would've had a chance to beg forgiveness even if they wanted to at the time.

I'm not sure how to explain what I picture being cast out/fallen looks like. It's almost like the official declaration of their punishment severs whatever spiritual or metaphysical link anchors them to the Celestial Realm (like it strips them of their Grace), and they literally fall through the planes of existence and find themselves in the Devildom.

The way I've written Azra's backstory, his descent into corruption and eventual fall from the Celestial Realm was a longer process. (Again, this is me taking many creative liberties with Azazel's story.) I imagine other angels close to him would've noticed that he was starting to change, and there would've been attempts to try and steer him back to the right path but by then it was probably too late already. They realized he was nearing the point of no return, and when given a chance to try and redeem himself in the eyes of their Father, Azra refused. The highest ranking angels had no choice and reluctantly agreed to cast him out for his sins when it was clear he could not (would not) be saved.

(I was actually outlining something earlier today about Michael and some of the other angels visiting the Devildom for the first time officially ignoring the nonsense in NB and the types of conversations they have with Azra while they're there. All the potential drama with Metatron has me in a chokehold sdfasldfsldkf.)

#jes.replies #jes.world building #jes.oc asks #my oc: azra

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rjavenuru · 3 months

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bluhhh invades ur inbox to ask you about headcanons :P

Why do you think Spooky is stuck with Poshe? (assuming he isn't just torturing himself willingly by sticking around for whatever reason)

If we are assuming that Spooky is a human spirit then the first option is that cruel fate dictated that his soul should not be free (for some reason) but bound to a random human, fate not having any care or ability to ascertain that it is an actual human that he would be stuck to. Like random ”roommates” drawn out of a hat.

Another option could be that Spooky was sent by some other force to either watch over Poshe or keep an eye on him. We can assume the existence of Heaven/Hell, with only relevance to humans, so perhaps Heaven and Hell knowing that he is ”a vistior” maybe without a clear idea of what his purpose is, Heaven might be inclined to send some spirit or other to try to guide this visitor to the good side. Not accounting for the fact that Poshe is so utterly self centered (and insane from isolation in space) that instead of heeding the advice of the friendly spirit that suddenly appeared upon his arrival on Earth he corrupts it so it itself becomes nasty and self centered like he is. The only impact Spooky would have perhaps being that Poshe decides that he doesn’t want to pave Earth over and would like to save the humans, maybe even not having a clear idea /why/ he wants this. It has simply become his mission and what Poshe believes goes. Similarly, Hell could have decided that this strange creature from somewhere else than Earth would be worth keeping an eye on, sending either a human soul or a Hell spirit to keep an eye on him and report to them his shenanigans. I imagine a lot of his exploits would tickle Satan, that is until he starts trying to spread mirth among the dark souls of Earth.

A third option could be that Spooky used to be a human, not a very nice human, and that his eternal soul was damned (either by Heaven or Hell or both, I like to think that they work together more than they let on) to serve a living human soul as salvation for his own soul, a sort of afterlife community service.

Three implications of this:

-If Spooky is a human soul then he must have been attached to Poshe after humans became humans in the modern sense. Which would, among other things, mean that at the beginning of the comic when Poshe is visiting various time points in human history (and Spooky is already there) would not be his ”first contact”. Considering that he does this again later in the comic I would think that it’s fairly canon to think that first contact would be a lot closer to modern times but Poshe has made several failed attempts at traveling back and ”fixing humanity”, only to cement his impact further (You know, the whole ”the definition of insanity is trying the same thing again and again, expecting different results” thing).

-If Spooky was supposed to be attached to an actual human it might not be so strange that he is pissy, when it is considered that he could either have ”worked off” this service he was supposed to deliver or served the punishment he was supposed to serve, but since Poshe is immortal he is stuck until eternity or until someone or something finally destroys Poshe so utterly that he won’t be able to regenerate. Bottom line being that the forces that attached him to Poshe were ignorant of Poshe not being human and unable to terminate this bond except with Poshes death. This could also be why Spooky some times seems to almost /try/ to get Poshe killed! Spookys purpose might even have been to do good by this human he was attached to to save his own soul when the human died so there would have been a point where Spooky relised that wasn’t going to happen, essentially dooming him to ”hell on Earth”.

-If Spooky was damned as a human soul to some Hell punishment or limbo situation he might not have appeared immediately when Poshe arrived on Earth. So Poshe could have been alone in space for a long time before Spooky arrived (he might even have been cursed with him during one of his time travels) and then again a long time before he built Sinestro, even further ingraining his insanity.

#Ask #Omg!#Oh my goth!#Comics #Aurelio voltaire #Canon #Headcanon #Poshe #Spooky

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stranger-rants · 1 year

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Dying to Live

Mungrove Week - Day 1: Out of The Upside Down

A Mini Ficlet About Cheating Death Part 1 of 2 (Also on AO3, here!)

The Death Year Curse strikes few, poor unlucky souls with the year of a their death written on their wrist. No one knows what triggers it, but some say it’s divine punishment for something shameful the parent or parents of the child have done. It almost always strikes the first born sons - how biblical. There must be some truth to it, because Billy’s death year emerges on his wrist the same year his mother leaves.

1985.

Billy was terrified of death as a child. The agony of dying. The unknown. 1985. He would be 18 in 1985. He would die in 1985. The thought of how it would happen plagued him for a while, but in his mother’s absence he grew so used to pain that death almost felt like a reprieve. A dream. He began courting death. Drinking. Driving fast. Smoking excessively. Snapping back at his father to welcome a beating…

After all, he wasn’t going to die yet.

There was still a part of Billy that fought the curse. He was stubborn like that. He tried in school. Worked multiple jobs, you know - just in case? Maybe he survives this stupid thing and what would surviving get him if he had no plans to live? Christ. Both life and death looked bleak for Billy, but he persisted.

Billy could not possibly predict the way in which he was going to go. Who could? He didn’t know why he fought so hard against it, despite knowing deep in his heart that this was the way it was going to end. Perhaps it was his one last attempt to defy fate. To not be controlled. The monster’s sharp tendrils pierced his sides, soaking his clothes in blood. The pain was unreal, but it would be over soon.

Eddie got his curse the year his parents got arrested, and his uncle took him in. When Eddie innocently asked what it was, Wayne didn’t know what to say but he figured that honesty was the best policy. After all, people would talk and they did talk. They said his parents must have made a deal with the devil. That Eddie was destined for “hellfire,” but Wayne always assured he did nothing wrong.

1986.

Eddie decided he wasn’t going to let that stop him from living it up while he still could. He was here to have a good time, not here for a long time. He slacked off in school so he could enjoy the finer things in life. B Movies. Comics. Dungeons and Dragons. Metal. Of course, there was the recreational drugs and alcohol, too - what could it hurt?

After all, he wasn’t going to die yet.

Thinking about death… he tried not to do it, but hearing about the mall fire a year before did keep him up at night occasionally. What a terrible way to go. Eddie had always hoped he died easy, but in a cool way. Like getting electrocuted by his electric guitar by accident or something. That seemed rad. Eddie avoided conflict in the meantime, and took it easy. He didn’t care if it made him a coward.

Never could he have imagined inter dimensional bats ripping into him. He chuckled a bit to himself as the blood filled his mouth. Yeah, what a terrible way to go. Ah, well. At least he was able to save his friends some time? Hopefully? It’s not like he would be alive to see it, and that’s perhaps the part that sucked the most about all of this.

Everything was dark for a while, like being asleep without dreaming. Then Eddie awoke. Everything looked the same as Hawkins, but wrong. Cursed. Strange. The woods around him were dark with creepy, crawling creatures of the Upside Down all about him but they didn’t do much of anything to him. Didn’t acknowledge him. It was like he was… dead to them.

“Welcome to hell”

Eddie sat up with a jolt upon hearing the voice.

The Billy Hargrove of Starcourt Mall Fire Legend held out his hand to help Eddie up. He looked like a ghost, all pale with dried blood on his clothes. He didn’t seem real until Eddie took his hand. Solid.

“Am I?”

“Dead? Yeah,” Billy replied, without much decorum.

“Shit,” Eddie ran his hands over his own shirt, checking his wounds. Nothing was there. It was if he was never mauled by dozens of demobats. “Holy - this is, what? You-You’ve been dead for almost a year! You been here this entire time?”

“In hell?” A painful look flashed across Billy’s face, “Yeah, I guess.”

Damn. It felt like an eternity had passed. Billy was starting to go crazy with no people around. He hated that. The neediness he felt despite being, well, dead. When he imagined hell, he thought of endless suffering. Fire and brimstone. Devils poking him with spears. This was like that in a way. The endless suffering part, except the suffering was mostly the solitude, and there were the strange creatures…

How could it not be hell?

“Dude,” Eddie huffed, looking around them and patting the dust off his jeans, “this isn’t hell.”

Billy frowned.

“Then what the hell is it?”

#mungrove week 2023 #mungroveweek #billy hargrove #eddie munson #mungrove #fanfic

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the-lavender-creator · 7 months

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Sksksksk I’ll be honest. I think. The most powerful and impactful and feral I got from your fanfics tonight still had to be Blackmail toralei. Cause genuinely the idea of Toralei being so viciously outed and exploited for her fear just makes me tingle inside like no other. Like fuck Lagoona saying how she’s just a scared little kitten and has no friends jsur hit me hard I like immediately mentally climaxed like five times. Legit. Bomb moment. It can’t be topped.

However!!!! That doesn’t mean the wedding fic wasn’t amazing as hell either. Like shit that was a really amazing fic two. I think it ties a good ass second place along with the Bloodgood one. Cause fuck idk what it is about that one. But just the idea that Toraleis mom knew her fear of thunder and knew the monster would invoke some sort of panic attack yet she didn’t care and just sat there. Like the way she was probably having a very public and noticeable panic attack in front of a crowd and no one was doing anything.

The way she just sobs and breaks apart in Bloodgoods arms after being offered the most basic sliver of kindness and comfort. Like FUCK. That hit me so fucking much.

Like holy shit I know it was hard as fuck but I absolutely loved the format of the ‘thumps’. Like it really really really communicated her growing fear. And how Toralei was so fucking scared. And how Catarinas yelling was equivalent to thunder. And how she was so upset she didn’t even look up. Wouldn’t even look her in the eyes as she was traumatized all over agin.

But FUCK. Not bloodgood just. Taking Toraleis face into her hands. Saying ‘you poor child’. FUCK THAT GOT ME SO HARD. Like ugh I wanted to gay cry so hard. The way she just cradled her so gently as she broke apart. The way Toralei was spacing out the whole time Frankie and them were exonerating her.

The way toralei is absolutely humiliated over breaking apart in front of Bloodgood but she still takes her hand as she leads her like a child or a spooked dear. It just. Fuck. It gives off just how hurt she is. How desperate she is for love and care. How she’s just a lost little soul who’s childhood was crushed and needs someone to lead her to safety.

just like. The act of her being embarrassed but still taking Bloodgoods hand is just idnudendune so delicious. She’s jsur. A lost scared little kid. And Bloodgood FUCK Bloodgood telling her her mom didn’t really care. God damn it that hurt. Lavender where do you come up with this stuff cause I love it.

Bloodgood basically saying she’s gonna be Toraleis new parent and Toralei being so fucking happy she feels like everything’s gonna be ok for the first time one she’s like GET THIS GIRL A NEW MOM IMMEDIATELY.

Bloodgood letting Toralei storm out the rest of her tremors in her office while she also attempts to give privacy is jsur. Such a soft respectful thing to do.

Bloodgood needs to be Toraleis mom now ok? I actually wouldn’t mind seeing more of that coming up. Like it sounds fairly nice to see stuff like that.

Like I imagine toralei causes mischief again or something and for the first time ever Bloodgoods has to try and punish her and Toralei immediately has some sort of panic attack cause she thinks she’s gonna be like Ratarina and it’s tearing her up inside cause she doesn’t want to see someone she somewhat sees as a good and comforting person be infected by the ugliness that is Catarinas punishments. Oh baby. And Bloodgoods eventually realizes toralei thinks she’s gonna hit her or throw shit in the fire or do some other twisted shit. And I can see her just Pullinb Toralei onto her lap and holding her a she tells her she will never lay a hand on her. And that no one will ever do that ever again as long as she is in charge. And Toralei just breaking down cause it’s the words she’s been craving to hear but from the wrong person.

Shit man Bloodgood is just mommy ok. She’s Toraleis mommy now. Toralei needs a new mum.

But shit man that fic make my little heart sob.

just so you know I’m gonna send two other long ass asks ranting about the other two thunder fanfics sklsks

STOP GIVING ME MULTICHAPTERED FIC IDEAS

#I'm kidding please continue to do so #mr-walkingrainbow

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