#tr: angel of darkness

[cacaupop]

kurtis Trent come back to life please

#tomb raider #kurtis trent #lara croft #tomb raider angel of darkness #traod #tomb raider AOD #TR Angel of darkness #old games #nostalgia #playstation 2 #random

[ohthetombraider]

#tomb raider #lara croft #classic tomb raider #tr illustration #tr art #lara croft tomb raider #classic lara croft #tr #angel of darkness #tr aod #lara croft angel of darkness #Instagram

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

I got some additional information on the "Proto Nephilim" I could fill a whole book about it and people would still call it made up. Listen: I don't know if is is made up, and just used as a threat to the people here, and as a token to explain Eckhardt's evilness and whatnot, but I want to take notes throughout my journey. And maybe figure out if this was a fever dream afterwards.

Transcript of the first and second page: The name of this thing comes from "protos" meaning "first" and "nephilim", refering to Nephilim, the descendants of humans and angels. I took some photos from the file cabinets and soem descriptions, too. I don't know how much fanfiction this is, but apparently they really did experiments on random people. If I'm able to reverse image search the first drawing correctly, it is the skull of an ape, but the teeth are so long they resemble carnivorous fangs. A chimera perhaps? Sadly, I cannot read the text written next to it. So, according to some notes I can decipher or pretend I can the left is a human skeleton and the right is the Proto- it looks ape-ish? The drawn foot on the left is clearly a human's, the right has fingers and a thumb liek a primate. The fingers are way too elongated for a normal ape and it's not human either. The notes in a file talk about the left being a homo sapiens and the right a homo nephili, according to the man in the cell he carried the remains of the Proto "in his truck". Was this some way to resurrect it? Breeding it with a closely related species?

Transcript of the third and fourth page: Here's a sketc of ...bones, and I hope only bones. Not sure of they found these arranged already or tried to mix and match them, but this is what came out. My paranoia asks me whether they have kept this thing inside the cage dangling above an abyss? This skeleton was supposedly inside a truck (the inmate one's) and was carried all the way from Cappadocia, Turkey, to the Czech Republic. They probably found the remains closely together (as scribbled in the left corner) so they could put it back together, correct or not. Skeletons usually don't have flesh, otherwise they'd be mummies, thus there is no DNA. I can only speculate:

1. Remains of the Proto are found and carried to Prague. 2. They actually have DNA, thus flesh, this either a bit of cells or a whole fucking corpse 3. They succeed in breeding the Proto, the first Nephilim-thing, on the left 4. ??? 5. They capture random men, inject them with Nephilim-DNA, and hope to not create maniacs, but actual Nephilim descendants.

Yeah sounds like straight out of a science fiction novel.

Transcript of the fifth page: Okay, I can only assume the thing this man (Kurtis probably) was asking the truck driver was about the Proto, which escaped (remember the woman saying she didn't kill the experiment?) and it was only to be killed with a Periapt Shard. Which Kurtis should own which makes him capable of killing this thing.

THEORY: Shards are inherited from father to son. The dude MUST be a member of the Lux vertatis. Thus: is really likely to be Kurtis Trent. And if it's him having the shard or shards, hunting down a thing, it surely needs to have ties to Eckhardt that Kurtis HAS to know about. But does Miss Croft?

Transcript of the sixth page: I kept on walking, through doors and compelexes. Currently, I am not too sure where I am now, but I found an elevator. The electricity is back on, so I think I'll give it a shot. Where am I even going now? Okay, I know less than before. The doors are all metal and open sideways, it feels like I'm in a new place. A whole new wooorld! Jokes aside. I think I can hear water now. My ID card works, thankfully, but I want to get back to the surface again, to be honest. I went down three floors and there's some panels in here which says stuff like "security levels one and two" and "feeding program". I'm heading further out, the security cameras are showing something like a pond?

Transcript of the seventh and eighth page: There is a giant fucking fish with teeth in the pond what. the fuck I swear I pinched myselfa bout ten times. The security camera has footage of a giant golden fish, the pool is filled with a red something. I think I can see chunks of meat swimming in there? Is this the feeding program? Yeah I'm not going in there. Can this thing jump? I'm better off watching the cameras all day and look through the desks and cupboards here. Does this thing even sleep? What on earth is this?? You see the eyes of this thing?? And the teeth? Oh god. I'm trying to talk myself down. I'll read some on the things here. Rationalize. I cannot stop here, I'm not done yet.

Transcript of the ninth and tenth page: Yeah I just descided to not look at the cameras anymore but search this place. These files here were in a folder in a cupboard. I think this is this big fish-dinosaur-hopefully not another Nephilim-thing. It looks like it has four horns, or two horns and two gigantic fangs. It has rows of teeth, which remind me of sharks. It could be some ancient thing, the files were labelled "leviathan". I know it's a biblical thing, and since we'ret alking about reviving the Nephilim race, why not revive Leviathan also? I wish I could read what's written here. It shows again a skeleton and some measurements of this thing.

Transcript of the eleventh page: So, about the Leviathan: the name is Hebrew and means "the twisting". It looks like a crocodile, a dragon, a snake and a whale. It's supposed to eat sinners on doomsday. God made Leviathan to play after being busy with writing the Tora and judgeing the world. its history is told in the Jewish Kabbalah (=mysticism) where Jonah is being swallowed by her. Christianity turned her into the embodiment of ecil, Satanism uses the name "Leviathan" in its sigil.

UPDATE: I'm ready to pass the pool. The thing is busy with food until now. I'll try to get to one of the open doors since there has to be a way out!

For now, I wish for a few things...let me wish. Let me make a wish. I wish for a warm chamber, with a palce to sit and rest, maybe a crackling fire, some books, maybe some friendly company. I made a wish, and now I hope one door will lead me somewhere...cozy.

#angel of darkness #journal #tomb raider #traod #tomb raider angel of darkness #tomb raider series #aod #classic tr #lara croft #classic tomb raider

[thiccoritaaa]

i was gonna finish this but am suddenly so exhausted lol but I still love her

#i haven't played this in so long but Lara will always be my first love #my art #lara croft #tomb raider #tomb raider angel of darkness #traod #tr #mine

[shoyoist]

seeing a new pattern in my taste

#₊˚ପ⊹ soliloquy .ᐟ‍ #finished dungeon meshi a few days ago #first thing i thought when i saw thistle was ...izana?? #LMFAO THE TR BRAINROT IS INESCAPABLE #i looove the pretty boys with dark skin & violet eyes and severe mental illness! #💓💓💓 #oh and #one of my headcanons for izana is that he's trans (ftm) #i think the exact same about thistle #kissing them both so sweetly on their foreheads #neither of them did a single wrong thing in their lives!! those are my angel babyboys

[pollydrawing]

An edit of Lara Croft just for fun! Tomb Raider - Angel of Drakness 

#lara croft #tomb raider #tomb raider angel of darkness #tr aod #aod

[the13thelysium]

Happy Pride Month Tomb Raider Fans!!! 

#pride #pride month 2022 #pride month #tomb raider #gunderson #larson #kurtis #pierre #jonah #zip #tihocan #studs #lgbtqiia+ #lgbt #jacob #konsantin #TR #tomb raider angel of darkness #anniversary #chronicles #alex #alex weiss #the kid #jermome #johnson #rutland #james rutland #legend #TR 2013 #2013

[dreaminglara]

I haven't been active in the tr aod fandom in a long while, but after doing some thinking on my own my guess is the groping scene in the Louvre kind of works in the context of Kurtis "testing" whether Lara was a Nephilim. I still am not fond of how it was implemented there but this is the only way I can at least make this scene more "contextually fitting" to watch should I replay this game in the near future.

For the record I don't dislike or hate Kurtis. There is a reason he's in my avatar, after all.

#i still would remake that scene with him using his occult powers to disarm Lara #but maybe thats why he wasn't using them right there if we stick to the nephilim Lara concept #cause it'd have been too risky to reveal himself as a Lux Veritatis #when he knew Lara was just Lara and not a concealing Nephilim he just went his usual sardonic nature #and went down the showing off route just to mess with her #kurtis trent #tr aod #meta? maybe. I'm rereading lore notes and game dialogue as I go cause rn I dont have much time fkr anything else #cause of work #but I want to draw about this game #tomb raider the angel of darkness #tomb raider

[inhuman-obey-me]

True Forms: Sides + New Characters

Once upon a time, long, long ago, we wrote some true demon forms for the demon brothers. And we had so much fun with it that we've returned with a follow-up! Now featuring not only demons but also some angels, a reaper, and one immortal "human" sorcerer.

No in-between forms for MC's sake this time though -- we die like men being driven mad by unspeakable, incomprehensible horrors.

Like before, content warning for unsettling, eldritch descriptions and body horror.

DIAVOLO

The Crown Prince of the Devildom doesn't often go into this true form -- it's incredibly dangerous, and if you see it, you might as well already be in your grave.

The first thing that hits you is the scent of sulfur and burning, so strong that you feel like you're choking on it, suffocating even though there's no smoke to be seen.

There is, however, plenty to be seen of him, as his form is utterly massive -- every direction you look, he seems to stretch infinitely around you, no end in sight to his immense presence.

To his sides, sparks and flashes of gold and darkness alternately flicker off of black flame wings as they languidly float back and forth behind him, singeing the very air they occupy.

The rest of his body mostly transforms into that of a dragon, much like the ornament you normally see upon his chest, covered in brilliant triangular golden scales except for the glowing red orb at his center.

The orb pulses like a heartbeat, and in it, you see yourself -- no, rather, you see a distortion of yourself, all the corruption and cruelty that hides in your very core laid bare before your eyes.

Meanwhile, fire roars everywhere, filling every open space around him and spiraling into a grand crown upon his head.

Despite the noise of the flames, however, his commanding voice can be heard clearly, a low rumble like the roar of a dragon yet distinctly regal and elegant in its tone.

On his chest, the black marks you see in his more humanoid demon form expand and twist outward, hypnotizing you as they wrap like vines around your body.

You hardly even notice as they capture you in a world of complete darkness -- darkness that overtakes not just your senses, but your mind, your soul, your whole existence, like a fire that burns away everything until there's nothing left in you but the abyss, all else turned to ash.

BARBATOS

To witness the true form of the ever loyal and capable steward to the Crown Prince of the Devildom, your fate is already sealed -- one of demise and ruin.

His body shifts and stretches, and stretches, and s t r e t c h e s -- you cannot see where, or if, he ever ends -- like time itself.

His body resembles that of a dragon -- though not the same of his master, but those creatures known across the human world as the lóng, the ryū, the druk, the nāga.

His face blurs, rots, melts -- bits of bone showing through flesh and one eye now just an orb of empty, everlasting black.

The spindly, web-like horns that grace his head grow thicker and longer, the talon-like ends even sharper than before.

Whiskers sprout from his face that are slick and forked at the ends, like his more humanoid-demon form tail, an electric buzz sparking at the end of them.

The scales along his body are black and teal, that familiar lightning pattern reflected in some while you catch glimpses of other universes as they gleam.

It is then that you notice you are slowly being buried in sand -- it cascades off his body, from the ridges in his back and gaps between those captivating scales.

Time itself seem to distort around him as he swims in the air, the very fabric of space rippling and warping against his form.

When he opens his mouth to roar, all that can be seen is a void of space inside, an all-consuming black hole.

There is an awfully maddening absence of sound, the very weight of silence seemingly suffocating and crushing you as you try to gasp for air.

The longer you stare into his face, his form -- the more you get lost and trapped across universes, seeing every branch of time lay itself out before you, over and over and over and over...

Your soul will be trapped forever in that endlessness, true death never taking hold as no reaper can ever reach you to claim it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Every ghost story about haunted suits of armor originates from the true form of Mephistopheles.

In this form, he truly represents his noble heritage as proud knights tasked with defending the royal family -- grand, intimidating, gallant.

From afar, he seems exactly like those stories, an empty suit of golden armor with eerie peridot green lights glowing as eyes through the helm.

Atop this helm, a showy plume of magenta feathers swoops in a proud arc, and from his back, a grand set of opalescent, translucent feathered wings stretches impossibly wide.

Each flap of these wings creates torrential whirlwinds, tornadoes that tear destructively through entire cities in their path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake.

Up close, however, it becomes clear that the armor is hollow because he is the armor -- though he usually keeps most of them closed for protection, eyes of green and magenta can emerge all over the gleaming metal plates.

Also dotting the plates are various gems and precious crystals, embedded throughout as if daring someone to come close enough to try to steal them, tempt them as demons so notoriously do.

Every movement, too, deafens with the cacophony of jewels crashing against coins, ringing out for miles and miles around him.

Looking upon this form always makes you feel slightly off, as though he's not standing quite straight, which in turn makes you feel slanted as if constantly slipping down sideways.

However, it's best not to look at all, as gazing upon him melts your flesh away to pools of thick, smooth black ink which indeed would make you slip and fall.

Before one would fully melt away, he opens up to consume any potential wearer of the armor, crushing them inside and using their bones to reinforce the strength of the metal.

Because of this, streaks of ink are always running down the seams where the armor opens, dripping endlessly in deep pools everywhere he goes.

LUKE

Before Luke descends as an angel, a soft smell of grassy sunlight fills the air, and you feel a gentle breeze pick up alongside you.

The sound of bells chimes softly as if rung by this breeze, though no bells can be seen.

Slowly, bursts of tiny stars shimmer into view as if creating a veil from which the angelic child steps forth.

Once he has appeared, the stars gather in small clusters, dancing around him as if engaged in a waltz.

Being a lower-ranking angel still, his form is generally humanoid and looks much like the Luke you know and love.

However, his shape looks more unstable at the edges, buzzing and shaking like a Chihuahua.

Though most of him is covered up by his Celestial garb, you notice eyes peeking out from between the folds, gazing up at you unblinkingly, staring right into your soul.

The eyes on his face, on the other hand, remain peacefully closed, as though you're looking upon a child asleep.

As he delivers his message, the scent of wheat and honey drifts from him, filling the air around you.

Although this form does no harm to you to look upon, you get the distinct feeling that you would fall into endless despair if you were to fail him.

Michael likes to send him to would-be runaways for this reason.

RAPHAEL

Though he may be the youngest of the seraphs, his form is no less grand and imposing.

You hear him before you see him -- the melody of a flute, a tintinnabulation, mixed with an enchanting voice singing words in a tongue you cannot comprehend.

Six large wings surround him, feathers light grey with the same iridescent sheen found on those of homing pigeons, spanning far and wide.

Where his face might be instead are twisting golden rings filled with eyes, swirling in a mesmerizing pattern that captivates you.

His arms, too, are made of a stack of metallic rings that mirrors armor, though no flesh resides within them, and interlock with the shapes of diamonds and spades.

Various chimes hang off like tassels at various points along those metallic arms, ringing endlessly.

In place of his torso is an opalescent crystal ribcage, though there are no organs for it to protect.

A number of spears, pointing downward and outward, fan around his bottom half, with needles circling golden thread around the spear "boning" -- making his bottom half resemble a cage hoop skirt.

Above the swirling rings of his face rests a halo, made up of floating spear tips, sharp and deadly.

And behind him, around him, are more rings that are linked in circles like an atom, so numerous that they are reminiscent of chainmail, all while swirling at dizzying speeds.

Surreal light emits from every element of his form -- every ring, every feather, every pointed end -- giving him an unsettling and ethereal glow.

Anger him in this form, and the mix of melodies becomes mind-numbingly discordant and cacophonous while numerous spears glisten with their sharp ends pointed towards you, ready to strike.

SIMEON

When Simeon was a seraph, his form shared a number of features with that of Raphael's: twisting golden rings for a face, an iridescent crystal ribcage, the stacks of rings for arms, and that surreal, unsettling light emitting from every element.

However, his form differed greatly as well -- his halo was actually an ouroboros, dotted with eyes peering into your very soul and lined with large, long spikes.

His six wings were not made of feathers but of fire, their flames a striking and dangerous blue -- four flanking his back, while the other two surrounded his head of twisting rings, protecting his face with their chaste embers.

His "legs" were composed of crystal shards, slowly twisting and catching the light to create a constant prismatic display.

Past the faint crackling of flames and metallic sonority, you could hear a soft and distant harp that lulled the senses.

His seraph form somehow evoked both a sense of serenity and a gnawing, unnerving sense of dread.

Since his demotion to archangel, however, his form is a bit different -- more telluric, more humanoid, with wings more traditionally white and feathery at his back.

The delicate music of the harp that used to accompany him is gone, now replaced by the brash announcement of trumpets.

His more exquisitely airy elements have become more earthen, those radiant crystal pieces composed now of jagged rock and gleaming metal instead.

So too do fragments of steel float around and over his right side, resting upon his shoulders like a cape flowing gracefully from shining pauldrons.

Drifting idly just past his fingertips, a sword rests across his form, long and thin, both a tool and yet inherently part of him, dancing easily at his command and always ready to strike.

Each metallic sliver is dotted with eyes, peering and watching over you, at once benevolent and yet you can feel them -- watching you, judging you, sharply observing every move you make.

Another eye watches as well, from above, gazing serenely from the center of a spinning seven-pointed star which serves as his head.

There are no other facial features to speak of, but the look in that single blue orb expresses all there is to understand.

Though his voice rings clear in your mind with any message he may have from above, you can see your fate clearly from the moment your eyes connect with his gaze.

THIRTEEN

As a reaper, there is no question of death's approach when Thirteen transforms into her true form.

You become aware of long, low bells in the distance -- for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

From the moment you hear that very first clang, you cannot move, an icy chill washing over you and leaving you frozen in place.

However, it is not fear that you feel, but instead an odd sense of peace that overtakes your mind and makes the world around seem distant and hazy.

All light fades from view except the eerie blue flame of the candle she carries in one hand, along with the vivid green fire that takes the place of one eye.

Through the flickering light, you can see where bones replace flesh -- a half jaw, a sharp cheekbone, a partially exposed ribcage.

Her other eye seems to become more reptilian in nature, scales surrounding her brow bone and the hollows of her cheeks, jagged and harsh.

Her teeth are sharp and large, the exposed jaw making it appear as if they are locked in a menacing grin.

Gauze wraps around her neck, dark ichor seeming to seep through it and drip onto her chest and into the hollow of her ribs.

She floats towards you, no legs to be seen as she rolls atop mist and fog that sprawls ever outward, reaching the edges of your vision.

Within that mist you catch a glimpse of fluttering iridescence -- butterflies, their wings part black and shining with opalescent darkness.

No longer does she wear the tattered black robes so often thought as the reaper's uniform -- instead, long pieces of black chiffon, tulle, and mesh twist around her form, giving the illusion of a cloak.

Long, sharp claws wrap around her scythe, its blade broad and keen -- but it shimmers in the light, its form malleable and able to transform into whatever the reaper so desires.

However she decides to capture your soul, the last thing reflected in your eyes will be the blue flame of the candle extinguished, its wax melted away with the end of your life.

SOLOMON

Hello, my adorable apprentice

What's wrong? Don't you recognize me?

It's me, Skeletiano Solomon

The true form of an immortal human sorcerer is...

Yeah this seems right

Right?

#scroll to the end for a surprise. please. #it's worth it we promise #little bit cosmic horror #little bit cosmic cutie patootie #we couldn't make our baby boy scary we just couldn't #obey me #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephisto #obey me raphael #obey me side characters #obey me headcanons #demons being demons #angels being terrifying

[imsofthelp]

Category: smut, angst

Warnings: smoking, sort of jjk spoilers but not really stated clearly, angsty, cursing, gojo being smitten is a warning of it’s own

Summary: Your ability allows you to see visions of the future. Once you see your lover dead, you can’t help but want to pull away and keep him safe

***

Satoru awakes when the sun is about to rise and colour the world in molten gold. It’s not a peaceful awakening, not the usual smell of coffee you brewed after slipping out of his grasp in the early hours of the morning and not the sound of you humming a melody only known to you.

Your screams tug at the strings of his heart in a way he didn’t even think was possible and before he’s even fully awake, his muscular arms reach out to wrap themselves around you, their goal to comfort and to ground you. He was still here and you were still safe.

Your eyes flutter open and closed like the wings of a butterfly, breathing erratic and uneven.

Gojo was always a selfish man and how could he not be if almost everyone worshipped not only him but the ground he walked on. A god amongst mortals, an angel meant to erase the sins of the humanity. Right now, he would do anything to take your pain away, to ease the trembling of your cold hands and calm down the way your heart is beating too fast.

A worse side of your technique, being able to summon anything you dreamed of last night, were the obscure visions of the future.

He’s learned not to ask right after, to allow you time to calm down and get your voice back. He’s more worried about you than curious about the future. A fleeting thought that this would never be the case for anyone else but you comes and goes.

When you do finally speak, your voice is croaky and barely audible, muttered into his dark shirt.

“You were dead.”

Three short words and his hands that have been stroking your back softly, freeze. Satoru thinks he misheard you. The idea of him dying is simply ridiculous. Who would be able to kill the strongest sorcerer alive? Sure, he’s had his doubts about Sukuna, but he’s certain he’d win if it came down to it.

“Darling, are you sure that it was me? Your visions are often unclear.”

Is all he thinks to say and his hands come back to your back, motions slow and comforting. Satoru doesn’t want you to know that his heart skipped a beat, that he’s a tad bit worried, ever since your visions about Nanami came true. Ever since all your interferences with the future proved to be fruitless. Ever since they had no body to bury.

Your face finally lifts up, chin resting on his chest, eyes red-rimmed and tearful. His hand touches your cheek and it’s hot to the touch.

“It was the clearest one I’ve ever had, Satoru.” you take a moment to gather your thoughts, to take a deep breath. The vision is engrained into your mind, playing over and over like a broken record. “I tr- fuck, tried to save you and it didn’t work. Nothing worked, I couldn’t- I was too weak to save you.”

And you burst into tears again, soft, heaving sobs slipping past your soft lips. If Satoru thought that it had hurt before, he doesn’t know what to compare this to. He briefly thinks of Suguru, but ultimately brushes it off.

He mumbles your name and kisses your forehead as softly as he can manage. All he knows is violence and fighting and surviving, but with you, he manages to hide all the ragged edges just enough.

“Ah.” Is all Satoru says for a moment, a hum of acknowledgement. He’s speechless for a moment as his worst suspicions are suddenly confirmed. Satoru doesn’t have to dwell on the thought that he cares more about what happens to you than to him. “What happens to you… In this vision?”

You slowly blink up at him, eyes glazed for a moment. He recognises that expression as you trying to recall every single detail of the vision. It’s so bittersweet, Satoru thinks, that you don’t even remember seeing yourself in that vision, only caring about him.

Soon, you come back to him, brows furrowed and expression drowned in worry.

“I try to heal you and… And I don’t even notice Sukuna coming back behind me. It hurts, for a bit, and then it’s dark. The vision ends.”

Gojo swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. What is he supposed to say? His jaw is tense, and when his eyes open again, he finds you even more worried than before.

“Love… Listen, that’s not going to happen, alright? I’ll make sure of it.”

He rewards you with one more kiss on your forehead as if that would help. He’d like to think that, but he finds himself horribly mistaken when you slip out of his grasp. You’re still only in your shirt and underwear, the only accessories being the bruises left on your hips that are now covered.

You rummage through the drawers and he sits up to observe. Your still trembling hands reach for a pack of cigarettes and a baby pink lighter. Gojo never liked you doing that. He never cared for alcohol and nicotine, choosing to see his body as a temple.

He worshipped you a lot, whispering prayers of your name a lot more than prayers he would in a temple, but clearly not enough.

“You really think death isn’t coming to us? Even after Shibuya?”

You shook your head and slipped out to the large balcony attached to the bedroom. Everything in his apartment was expensive and you often complained about feeling out of place. Of course, Satoru thought that you were right where you’re supposed to be.

When he climbs out of bed, he doesn’t need to shake away the sleep. It’s like a second nature to follow you out, the cold air of the early morning biting at his skin. He always has his infinity off when with you. Satoru doesn’t want you to feel like you could ever be denied the comfort of his touch.

He finds you smoking. The white trails leave your lips and disappear into the air as if they were never there. He finds himself at a loss of words once again. A strange and foreign feeling.

Satoru’s arms wrap around your waist and he slumps his large body over you like an oversized heated blanket. For you, he can ignore the smell of the cigarettes.

“Darling, please, listen. There’s nothing that could stop me from protecting you. I won’t let anyone harm you, ever.”

Satoru is careful not to say ‘as long as I’m alive’, bites his tongue to not let it slip. If this vision proves to be as truthful as your prior ones, he might have to reconsider the promises before making them.

You take another long drag before sighing softly. He doesn’t know that you’re also reconsidering your words.

“I don’t care about what happens to me, Satoru. You die.”

And your words hurt, he can feel the physical pain in his chest, his heart clenching. How could you ever say that? How could you put his life above yours? So many would, so many would disregard another sorcerer’s life for his, but never you. At the start of the relationship, he had made it clear that you were equals. Everything was back to base one.

“Please.” he’s used to people begging him, worshipping him, not the other way around. Once again, he is reminded, that for you he can be mortal, ordinary and nothing special. A normal person without the weight of the whole sorcerer society depending on him. “I’m begging you to not say such things. How can you disregard your life just like that?”

You stay quiet for a while and then put out your cigarette, turning to him. He notices the tears in your eyes and his immediate instinct is to wipe them off. He wants to give you space, though so he stays glued to the floor.

“I think my visions are not a warning. A warning would mean that the future could be changed, for better or for worse, anyway. We have tried so many times.” the words are quiet and your tone utterly defeated. You’re similar to a kicked dog right now. Yet, your eyes rise up and you come back to the hand that feeds. “We’ve tried so many times and It has never suceeded. Nanamin is still dead, Sukuna is still alive. It’s a curse more than a gift.”

Gojo wants to wish it all away. Your pain and your sorrows, your worries and your decreasing self-worth. He knows that there is nothing he can do to stop your mind from spiralling.

He whispers your name but you don’t allow him to speak, your hands raised.

“I think it’s just like… Someone saying to me ‘here is your future, take it and deal with it’ and…”

This time, Satoru is the one not allowing you to finish your words. He can’t listen to this anymore, can’t listen to this unchangable future shit. The future is always shifting, things are always happening and transforming the events, preventing them from happening and creating new ones.

“So that’s it? You’re accepting your fate and not trying to change it? And you’re fine with that?”

He can’t keep his voice from rising in volume, pretty, perfect face scrunched up. Satoru doesn’t know how to shake sense into you, how to make you see that you both can still change the future, prevent your deaths.

“I am fine.”

Is all you say, before putting the cigarette out and slipping back inside. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. His feet follow you before his mind can catch up.

“You clearly are not.” Satoru says as you pace around the room, not knowing what to do with yourself. He’s right behind you. It’s an instinct to try to calm you down. “Will you just listen to me? Nothing’s happening to me, or you. Fuck the future, fuck everything.”

You finally fall into his arms, but Satoru doesn’t dare sigh in relief. You’re about to say something again, and he’s about to give you more logical arguments. A cursed circle that never stops running. What can he even do to stop it?

“I think… I think that you’re a god, and I’m your dog.” you say and Satoru’s voice hitches in his throat. What was going on in your head right now, to make you say something like that, to even think something like that. “You tell me to stop worrying and I do, you demand me to calm down and I listen. Ultimately, you tell me to jump and I ask you ‘how high?’.”

Satoru freezes, the hands that held you limp by his sides as he pulls away. It was so completely unlike you, so unnatural. The visions have completely broken you and he doesn’t know how to bring you back, he really doesn’t, god he doesn’t know what to do.

“You are my dog?” he repeats, his tone harsher than before as he fails to wrap his head around the idea that you could say such a thing. “Are you still dizzy from your visions or are you taking a shot at making me upset?”

He shakes his head and pulls away from you, his large hands on your shoulders.

“It’s the truth.” you respond, avoiding his harsh gaze, pretending not to notice the weight of his hands on your shoulders.

“Well, I think your truth is stupid.” he retorts, hands shaking as he pulls them away from you, as if your skin burned him.

“And I think you should leave me.”

The words leave you and it’s like the time stops for Satoru. It’s a punch to his ego. Does he not love you enough? Not cherish you enough? Do you see him as the kind of man that would leave as soon as things got hard? How foolish, how utterly stupid.

“What are you saying now?” he all but yells, his temper no longer controlled as you look up at him with those teary eyes. What can he even do? What is he supposed to do?

Your whole body is shaking as you turn away from him. “In my vision, you died saving me. Leaving me can change the future.”

And suddenly, it all clicks for him. Why you were so insistant to push him away, why you seemed so hopeless. Protecting him by hurting yourself. How completely selfless, how utterly stupid.

“Oh, honey that’s…” he pulls you to him, wrapping his body around you until there’s nothing but him. His pretty girl is in tears. his pretty, perfect girl hurting. “I would never leave you, my love. Never once in a million lifetimes. I’m yours, darling, and you’re mine. We talked about the red string theory once and I’m afraid that I’m tied to you, hm?”

It’s not a question and he’s trailing kisses down your exposed neck. Your arms raise up on instinct and Satoru slips your, well, his shirt off of you. He knows you need him right now, to bring you back, to assure you, once again, that he’s yours, that he’ll stay despite everything.

Satoru lays you down on the bed as if you’re the most precious treasure and you look up at him, with those wide eyes, handing him your trust along with your heart.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl.” he drawls, pressing kisses along your exposed chest and down your belly, until he reaches your underwear, playfully biting the little bow on them. “Can I take these off?”

You nod, but that’s not enough for him and he nips at the skin of your thigh, causing you to yelp. “Words, pretty girl.”

“Yes.” you answer, after a beat of silence.

And he’s granted heaven. Satoru slides off your underwear and tosses them somewhere into the room. More soft kisses follow and your breath hitches when his lips kiss where you need him most.

His skilled tongue flicks over your clit and your back immediately arches off of the bed. Coming down from so many emotions and reaching so many new ones left you more sensitive than ever.

Gojo chuckles and repeats the motion, before obliging your quiet whine with a practiced clockwise motion. He repeats the motion a few more times, revelling at the taste of you and the sound of your whines and soft moans. His pretty pretty girl.

He carefully enters one finger into you and immediately finds the spot that has you gasping. With each motion, he brings you back to himself, back to being completely his, none of that silly nonsense you were spewing before. He adds another, when he deems you wet enough.

Two of his fingers are already so much more than yours could ever be and the way his tongue keeps flicking over your clit in all the right ways has you moaning his name like a prayer. Truly, he’s the one praying to you.

“Ngh- Sa-Satoru, I-“

You don’t need to finish your sentence in order for him to know what you’ll say next. The flutter of your eyelashes and the way you squeeze his fingers so hard that he’s barely able to move them in and out is a telltale sign.

“You can cum, pretty girl. Mm, my pretty girl.”

He mumbles and then his tongue gets back to it’s former movements. You come with a high-pitched whine and he’s glad to finally taste you. Ambrosia couldn’t compare.

You come back down from your high and he’s already hovering over you, mouth wiped clean as he presses a bunch of butterfly kisses over your skin, anything he can touch.

He’s content with just pleasing you, with having you even a step closer to him. Back to where you are supposed to be. What a silly thought, that he’d ever consider leaving you when he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the way he has never looked at anyone else.

Your eyes open and focus on him as you kiss him back, as soft as you can manage. Your hands bury into his hair and you have the adoring look back in your gaze. Even if it’s for a little while, before your worries start up again, he’s content.

“Want more, Toru, want you.”

Satoru swears that his eyes light up once he hears your words. You’re taking another step towards him, you’re almost back to him. “Are you sure, my love?”

You nod eagerly and it’s enough for him to take his clothes off. Your eyes are focused on his strong body, the sculpted muscles, the light hair that trails from his bellybutton right to his length.

He lays over you, careful not to let his weight fall onto you, always so careful with you. He rubs his cock over your pussy, covering it with your slick, attentive to make the intrusion as easy and pleasurable as possible.

He’s careful when he slides the tip in yet you still let out a soft whine. Satoru is a big man, towering over everyone no matter what room he’s in, it only makes sense that his cock is big, too. Doesn’t really help that he’s quite gifted on top of that.

“I know, I know, yeah. Hold onto me, darling. Mm, my love is doing so well.”

He feeds inch after inch of his large cock into you, watching your reactions deliberately, making sure not to hurt you.

Both you and Satoru moan when his pelvis meets yours, the sensation euphoric. His thrusts start out slow. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your head falls back onto the pillow as your moans get louder. He’s the only man who’s able to fuck you like this, to reach all the spots inside of you that make your eyes water.

“Do you feel good, darling? Am I making my perfect girl feel good.”

Your hands go over to cover your face and he tuts, pulling them away and gathering your wrists in one of his hands. It never fails to surprise you on how big they are. He, however, wants to see every reaction and hear every sound leaving you.

“Y-Yes, so good, feels so good.” You manage between loud moans. Screw the neighbours, Satoru thinks, screw everyone who isn’t you and him.

“Yeah? I feel good, too. So good, baby, so good. You’re perfect for me, the gods created you for me, yeah? So no more nonsense about me leaving.”

Your face heats up and back arches. His words reach you and then float around your otherwise empty mind.

His thrusts get quicker and less calculated as his head is thrown back. A quiet sigh of contentment leaves his pretty, glossy lips.

“Yeah, that’s right. No one. But us. Exists. Right now.” Satoru punctuates each little word with a deep thrust, breaths uneven, eyes closed in pleasure. “And we’ll overwrite the future if need be. If it means I get to stay. Then so be it.”

Another long, languid thrust and you come, nails dragging over his back as he spills into you, filling you with warmth.

You both take a moment to catch your breaths and soon, Satoru rolls off of you, his softened dick slipping out. He pulls you close to himself and presses a kiss to your forehead as you’re dozing off.

“Meant what I said. I’m staying and you won’t get rid off me, yeah? I love you more than I love anyone else, would die for you, kill for you… Perfect girl, my perfect girl.”

Satoru is not sure if you hear him before falling asleep, but he’ll be sure to remind you, should you ever forget again.

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk angst #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #tw cursing #tw smoking #tw angst

[darlingbabyboo]

Can you make a part 2 to the tr x bimbo girlfriend with maybe izana mikey and kazutora if you dont write for them or dont want to its okay have a good day/night<3

I hope you also have a good day/night ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

"Honey, you're my slut!"

♡ More Tokyo Revengers Characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Kazutora Hanemiya

He loves you so much!

Your cute little aesthetic

Your adorable mannerisms

Just everything about you is just so amazing he can't control how much he feels for you

Though that's also the problem...

He just really doesn't get why you're with someone like him

You're just so amazing and he has a lot of insecurities and baggage and you're this pure beacon of light

How could you be with someone like him?

But you make sure to erase any and every negative thought he has

He won't deny that he loves the pampering

"What's that?" Is the question that's he's been asking all afternoon, but it can't be helped, he's just pretty clueless when it comes to the makeup world. He's eager to learn though, especially when you're the one teaching him.

You're focused on your craft, for once, the smarter one in a situation. "It's just mascara, supposed to really make your eyes pop-not that you need it, honestly." You cup his cheek with your hand. "Every part of you is just so beautiful!"

He squirms at your unfiltered praise. "That's not true. I-" You give him a deep kiss, stopping him from spewing any self-hatred.

He knows your lipstick will stain against his lips and he finds that he enjoys the thought of that, being marked by you. He relaxes into the kiss, you make him feel worthy of love.

Manjiro Sano (Bonten Mikey)

Mikey's life is practically defined by how much he's lost

His entire life is filled with grieving for the people that have left him or have passed away

His heart has hardened, and he cares for very little in his life

And you're one of the rare few

Mikey enjoys being with you so much because you just love him unconditionally

He doesn't have to pretend to be someone else or put on a light facade

He can talk about some really dark stuff and you won't be scared of it, no matter how much you probably should be

He also just likes how airy you can be

He finds it endearing, and even if the things you say can be a bit stupid, he always gets a good laugh out of it

You're just his special girl ᰔ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*ᰔ

And god forbid anyone talk about your outfit

He'll destroy them

He always got his girls back

It's one of the few days of relaxation that Mikey gets and he's decided to spend it with you, just cuddled together at home. Due to the nature of his job, you two don't spend a lot of time together, but he cherishes the moments you do get. Right now you're on his lap, perfectly manicured hands typing away at your phone.

"Baby, I want this." He focuses on what you've added to your cart and finds a necklace similar to his tattoo. His lips curl into a smile.

"For me?" You nod your head eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So when you're off doing all your work, we're still connected."

You look at him with so much love in your eyes, like the 'work' you're brushing off is simply an office job and not committing multiple crimes. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve it, but he knows that you're one of the few good things left in his life. He presses his lips against yours, he's never letting you go.

Izana Kurokawa

He loves you so much okay

Like, his heart is overfilling with how much love he has for you

You're perfect in his eyes

It's amazing how he could be blessed with someone like you

He thinks that you're one of the best things that has ever happened in his life

And for the person that he views as an angel, he doesn't want the rotten world corrupting you

He knows how bad the world can get (first hand experience is a bitch) and he doesn't want that for you

He has a smile on his face for every one of the silly things you say

He throws money at you like it's nothing

Is your biggest hypeman

Only wants the best for his queen ❤

"Pretty I was looking for you!" He hears the click clacking of your heels before he sees you. Instinctively, he opens his arms so that you can catapult inside of them. As you bury your nose in his neck, he restrains the urge to laugh at your pet name. Him, pretty. No one else would dare call the leader of Tenjiku that. But you're... different.

"How was your day princess" Brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"It was fine, but," you jut out your bottom lip, "I really missed you-why haven't I seen you all day! "

"You don't remember? " You furrow your brows at the comment, as you try to recall what he's talking about.

He laughs, a light laugh that doesn't fit what he's saying. "You told me some guys were talking shit about your gorgeous outfit, I dealt with them."

You pull away from him and see that his fists are dripping with blood. You gasp, and he wonders if you're mad at him. If, finally, you're going to leave him like everyone else. But, you've seen his darker side before, surely you won't leave him for something like this.

Proving him right, you clasp your hands around one of his and start to gently kiss each knuckle. "Thank you pretty, you shouldn't have." Your kisses leave behind some lipstick residue but Izana doesn't mind, he watches you in complete awe. He brings up his other hand and cups the side of your face gently. "Anything for you, my queen."

#tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora fluff #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro fluff #mikey fluff #izana x reader #izana fluff #accidentally made myself fall for Izana #tokyo revengers imagines

[ohthetombraider]

#tomb raider #lara croft #classic tomb raider #tr illustration #tr art #lara croft tomb raider #classic lara croft #tr #angel of darkness #lara croft angel of darkness #tr aod #Instagram

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

All I can tell you about the next rooms I've been in is that I'm glad someone, probably Trent, was here before me. He could have cleaned up if you ask me, I haven't eaten enough to throw up, I just rush through the rooms and almost run in hopes of finding a safer place. Everything here is dead, sliced up, shot, or mutilated. I found a first aid box and took some painkilers and gauze bandage in case I accidentally hurt myself on anything here, literally no space in here that looks comforting and safe.

Transcript of the first page: This gummy cell had a dead guy inside, lying in his own blood. He had a number on his back- there were so many people down here, I wonder how no one started missing them? Or was someone looking for their friend, their relative? They had corpses in the morgue, laying on a metal table. It was freezing in there and creepy as fuck. The blood was dried and I didn't dare stepping in further.

Transcript of the second page: Further on I found dead inmate and a soldier(?). Someone want amok in here. Or did someone start an outbreak and thus the police or a private security group was involved? There was also a room with tubes similar to the ones I've seen before. But the things swimming in there were men(?) and I think there were horns(?) on him...ist this one of the nephilim I heard being talked about? Are these poor inamtes stripped of their souls and used as bodies for the nephilim? I wish I knew. Or. Think of it. I'm glad I don't.

Transcript of the third page: I came even deeper into the complex, downstairs, and I found this. I'm not sure what it is, it is hanging above a pit I couldn't look into. It's so deep into the ground I can't believe it's part of the sanitarium in the first place. When I went up a ladder, I saw this open door- I think due to the electricity that someone cut someone or something escaped. Let's hope it's not the Proto? What else could they have been keeping down here?

Transcript of the fourth page: My fake Strahov-pass got me into the files on the pc I found in a lab. I had to shove...the scientist a bit to the left. They talk about inmate number 42 and his medical record. They put him through so much, but why? There are mentions of "Proto cells", if this is the angel of death the inmate talked about? The horns I saw on the bodies of the bodies in the tubes were non-human. Not completely. If this really is the "Proto Nephilim" I pverhearf on the conversation, what would they do with its cells? I have an assumption, but I need more research. I think they want to revive the Nephilim with human beings...yeah what the hell.

Transcript of the fifth, sixth, and seventh page: Here's some papers I got for inmate number 42. I printed these out to take them with me. Does anyone know what is going on here? The man is named Hassan Ahmed Emin, and the doctor writing this is Melinda Everst. He speaks Turkish and needed a translator here. He reports restlessness, stress due to driving at night, fear of darkness, and feelings of loneliness. He has two allergies and then they list hsi current medications. They talk about giving him Proto cells, metallurgy on his hed, a lobotomy, Christ all this is so insane. So Eckhardt's fanclub is taking reandom people no one's missing and trying to revive the Nephilim so he can finally stay immortal? He is a rather skinny man and lost his weight in here. His history also includes seizures and neuropathy; lots of bone problems, and mental illnesses. His reports on his quality of life are high, but his emotional and physical well being is low.

I am continueing my walk through this mess and it's getting colder. I hope I'll come across a living non-hostile person soon, the loneliness is really creeping into me. There's another lab I can go in, but right now I'm resting again, hiding in a cell with a shelf I shoved in front. I really need this- this institute to have an end, I need some sunrays and, at some point, my old life back.

#angel of darkness #journal #tomb raider #traod #tomb raider angel of darkness #tomb raider series #aod #classic tr #lara croft #classic tomb raider

[thiccoritaaa]

nah but like i changed my username and thot I lost all my old art but I was able to recover some of it!!

#this is prob my fave of my own fanart of her #but next time she needs to be even BULKIERRR #my art #old art #lara croft #tomb raider #tomb raider angel of darkness #traod #tr #fanart #mine

[hystixia]

THE PERFECT GIRL.

SUMMARY 、HE WAS GOING TO ENJOY DEFILING AND RUINING YOU. YOU WOULD BE HIS FAVORITE KILL YET.

FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER

WARNINGS 、IMPLIED VIRGIN!JEFF (DUH), NONCON, SNUFF, (HEAVY) GORE, BLOOD, DEATH, MENTIONS OF STALKING, MANHANDLING, MARKING/CUTTING, SCARIFICATION, BLOOD KINK, DEGRADATION, SLIGHT PRAISE, POSSESSIVENESS, OBSESSIVENESS, DACRYPHILIA, CREAMPIE

NOTES 、i’m so sorry about this one . . .

It was mesmerizing, just how oblivious you were to the figure standing in your doorway as you listened to music through your headphones and scrolled through social media on your phone while laying on your bed that looked so soft you could compare it to a cloud in the sky above. He felt like he was stuck in place, eyes unblinking and watching you with primal desire as he breaths heavily. Of course you didn’t know he was there. You weren’t even the slightest bit aware that your parents were dead either were you? Too busy laying there in your own little world and looking so fuckin’ pretty. He wanted to tear you apart and crawl inside of you, he wanted to know how warm your slippery insides would feel in his hands.

You hum along to whatever song you were listening to, laying on your stomach and facing away from him. The way your shorts hugged the swell of your ass rather tightly had his hands twitching by his sides as he watched you. He’d never gotten this close to you before, hell, you probably didn’t even know he existed. Oh, but now you would though.

He’d be the last face you ever saw.

You flip onto your back, looking at your phone until your eyes catch a glimpse of the dark figure that was way too close for your own comfort. You yelp loudly in surprise, jumping and pushing yourself away from him until your back hits the headboard of your bed with a soft rattle against the wall. You stare at him, shocked until it morphs and churns into full blown horror as you took in the sight of his entire appearance.

“W-who are you?” You whisper out in a shaky voice, body trembling with newfound fear as your eyes glassed over with tears. God he liked that look on you.

His knees touch the edge of your bed as he keeps on staring with that crazed look in his eyes. He’s breathing so heavily you’d think he had ran for miles but it’s eerie how slow each deep breath actually is. It reminds you of what you think a stalker would sound like while watching the person they’re obsessed with. The mere thought he feels that way towards you makes your skin crawl.

He chuckles and you don’t like the manic edge to it. “Jeff.” He says. His voice instills fear deep in your body and mind as you practically cling to the headboard behind yourself. “I thought you’d remember me from school,” He laughs afterwards, a crazed lilt to it and he lets out a shaky sigh as he truly takes in the sight of you and allows it to sink deep into his memory, etching and weaving its way into his mind damn near permanently.

He hunches over a bit, knife in hand as he eyes you like a starved animal. Your bottom lip quivers as your glassy eyes focus on his face before you glance past him at the open doorway and call out in a shaky voice, “M-mom?! Dad..?! P-please!” But you don’t hear urgent coupled footsteps or frantic voices of your parents coming to miraculously save you. The only thing you hear is that spine chilling laugh the psycho in front of you lets out at your pathetic cries for help.

“They’re already dead, angel.” He grins widely, open cuts in his cheeks twisting and morphing into a much sinister smile on his monstrous face than before but his tone is flat as if it were common knowledge of what he was saying to you. He somehow looked even more crazed than before suddenly and it terrified you.

The reality of your situation seeps into your bones, spreading throughout your entire body and system until all that’s left in your reeling mind to logically do in this horrific scenario is to plead for your life to be spared.

“Please d-don’t hurt me..” You beg, voice trembling as you give him a helpless and weak look that has his jaw clenching and his heart thumping with excitement.

“Oh, but you’d look so much better with a few cuts, doll.” He replies and the room grows silent for half a second before he lunges over the bed at you and you scream. The shriek from your vocal cords pierces his ears and he feels like they’ve popped from the shrill noise as his hands grab onto one of your legs and he pulls you toward him as he tries to stand upward at the foot of your bed again.

You scream and cry, kicking your legs out and you manage to land a blow on his stomach making his grip on your ankle loosen as he winces in discomfort but it’s all the room you need to wriggle free and stumble off the bed as he staggers a bit. You sob loudly, arms outstretched to grab at your doorway like invisible hands were there to protect you from harm as you try to make a run for it, but a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle preventing you from escaping.

He struggles to hold you for a few moments as you flail around and try everything you could think of to get away but you were merely tiring yourself out and making no progress. You heave quick and shaky breaths, crying and begging for your life as he squeezes you back into his chest where you feel the warm liquid of blood stain against your own tank top. You felt disgust and terrified, digging your fingernails into his hand and arm in an attempt to make him let go. All it does is make your situation worse.

“Stop fuckin’— shit, quit struggling so damn much.” He snaps, shaking you so roughly your brain is spinning around and bouncing off the walls of your skull before you find yourself pressed down into your mattress as you stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom in a small daze. Until his face, his horrible face comes into view above you and he laughs maniacally as he keeps you pinned to the bed.

“Get off of me!” You scream out in a shriek of fear, eyes glassy with tears and he growls at you as he grips you tighter and more painfully as if he was trying to rip your skin off of you.

“Don’t you dare tell me what to fuckin’ do.” He hisses out, body practically trembling with rage before he’s taking the bloodied knife in his hand and leaving a long cut down your shirt before ripping it off of your front so your torso was exposed to him. He grins at the lacy bra you wore and his eyes meet yours. “Wearin’ this for me? What a little slut.” He cuts a line across your chest in an instant and you cry out at the sting of pain that blooms in his knife’s wake.

He groans as you cry and whimper in pain before straddling you and pushing his weight down onto your lower body as his free hand keeps your hands pinned above your body. “Scream real nice an’ loud. I want the entire neighborhood to hear.” He chuckles before digging the blade into your chest, carving into it with a agonizing swipe. Your eyes are bloodshot at this point as you scream out and beg him to stop while you try to kick and flail around under his weight to get free from his vice-like grip. He carves what feels like shapes into your chest as you heave breaths and he eventually stops with a shaky and excited sigh.

“Now you’re really mine, heh.” He smiles, those carved and jagged lines in his cheeks opening impossibly wider as he breaths heavily while staring down at the bloody mess on your chest.

You blink through tears and lift your head enough to see the upside down sight of the name Jeff carved into you and you let your head fall back with another heartbreaking sob.

“Please, stop.. s-stop it..!” You beg helplessly with hiccuped cries but it only fuels his dark desires more as he moves lower down your body and after situating your legs on either sides of him, he rips the material of your shorts and the white lacy panties he sees that match your bra makes him swallow thickly.

“You wanted this didn’t you? You fuckin’ slut.” He breathes out, convinced that you did this for such a special occasion as your own looming death.

��N-no I didn’t!” You stutter, crying and trembling as you stare at him with wide eyes swallowed up in fear.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” He seethes, eyeing the rather transparent material of the lace set before tilting his head slightly and giving you a crazed look that makes your blood run cold. “Ready for the fun part?”

“What—“ Your words are cut off by a blood curdling scream that’s ripped from you as he dives the knife into your stomach with a manic laugh before slicing it open and watching the blood pour from the large wound. You kick your legs and your body twitches and writhes in pain as your bloodshot eyes look down in horror at your own guts on display.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” He cackles, pulling the knife from the wound and slicing it along various parts of your torso and arms with occasional grunts as he pushes the weapon into you. He laughs like an obsessed madman as he drives the knife into your skin and warm red liquid seeps into your pearly white sheets forever stained with your blood now. The color oozes from your entire being as you scream out in a scratchy voice and beg for help that no one out there could offer you even if they tried. He hums, tracing his hands over the deep and shallow marks he’d left along your arms. “look at all these fuckin’ cuts.” He practically groans out and it makes your stomach churn with disgust.

You choke on a gasp as your own blood shoots up into your mouth and he tugs on your panties with his bloody hands, pulling them to the side and hastily fiddling with his slacks until he gets his cock free and he grins. You weakly raise a hand up and toward him but he nudges it back down to rest against the bed as he pushes his tip against your pussy lips with a tremble of excitement. “Oh, doll, just lie there and take it.” He hums before thrusting into you and you let out a choked yelp of pain at the harsh intrusion. His eyes are locked onto the sight of your torn open stomach and the intestines that lied away inside of you, threatening to spill out at any moment.

He sets up a rough pace, groaning and grunting as he ruts into you and your eyes flutter shut a few times. He growls, slapping your face and leaving a faint bloody smear of his handprint on your cheek as he snaps his hips into yours. “Hey, keep your eyes open, angel, c’mon.” You’re forced to stay awake, struggling to stay conscious as you wheeze a shaky breath, unable to feel anything but excruciating pain as you sob out once more.

“Uhuh, j’st like that, look at me, pretty.” He says lowly, the blood smearing along your body as you rock with each rough rut into your heat that grows slick to ease the painful burn that’s buried between your legs and to accommodate to his brutal force.

Your vision is falling in and out as you look at him looming over you. You can feel your own organs sloshing around with each thrust and you fucking hated it. It made your skin crawl and your head spin with nausea.

“S-shit, ‘s so much blood—“ He clenches his jaw tight, pace growing sloppy as he reaches for the large opening in your stomach and pulls out your intestines as you cry out and choke on your own blood again. You can no longer form words as your face contorts in terrible discomfort, your body tensing up in pain as you watch with horror as he tugs your guts out and lets them splay out on your bed before his hips stutter and he ruts into you faster, letting out a string of curses as he grips your hips, hands slick with your blood.

“Fuckk, gonna fill you up, ruin this fuckin’ cunt.” He spews out in a hiss, it’s hard to tell if you’re clenching around him him because you’re turned on or because of the pain but he’d like to think it’s a mix of both. “You’re fuckin’ mine— heh, dirty fuckin’ bitch.” He lets out a string of curses as his cock twitches against your gummy walls and shortly after his cum shoots out in thick, hot spurts as he sighs with a drawn out groan. Your body is unmoving however and the last thing you felt before truly fading was that uncomfortable fullness as he emptied into you. Your body lies limp and as he sees your fogged over eyes staring back at him he throws his head back with a breathy laugh.

He pulls out, watching the cum ooze from your gaping pussy before fixing your lacy panties, now stained red with his fingerprints to keep the creamy essence in before taking his knife and carving his name into you again only this time he does it into your inner thigh. You don’t move, not a sound nor a single twitch comes from your body as he leaves his name on various parts of you and he cackles to himself as he takes in the gory sight of your used body completely covered in different carvings of his name as a sign that you belonged to him.

He stares in awe, wiping a stray tear off your face and leaving a smear of blood in its place. “You’ve always been fuckin’ pretty, huh?” He sloppily presses his lips against yours, moving against them with inexperience as he groans quietly before pulling back with a wide smile.

He plops down beside you, chest heaving up and down with heavy breaths as he stares at your fogged over eyes that had looked his way a handful of times since he had first moved to Forest Lawn. He sighs almost dreamily, listening to the ooze and squelch of your own blood seeping out of you in multiple areas along your figure as he relaxes beside your limp body and he lets his thoughts roam to play his actions on loop so he’d always remember this special moment you finally shared with him.

One sight he’d never forget is your face, damp with fresh tears and full of fear because of him and only him.

The oh so very recent memory and image still fresh in his mind makes him feel almost… free.

#jeff the killer x reader #jeff mason x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer smut #the morgue files #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x you

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter One- Escape (part 1)

This chapter is quite long, it’s going to be in two parts. Hope you enjoy.

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In October 1914, I found myself in Birmingham. The train came to a halt on the platform, and as it did, a person in brown hastily disembarked from the car. I scanned my surroundings cautiously. The platform lay in dimly lit solitude, the air was chilly, so I draped my half-worn cashmere coat around me and hastened forward, my gaze fixed ahead. My hope was to secure a job in Birmingham that would sustain me, putting an end to my northward travels. My intention was to find a place to rest and recuperate for a while before seeking employment. With all the men away at war, the factories surely lacked labor. Ideally, it would be an office job, but upon arriving at a hotel, I discovered a hole had been cut into my wallet, and the coins inside had vanished. The gaping gash, created by a blade, danced in Birmingham's cold breeze, taunting me. The innkeeper's eyes spoke volumes; he clearly regarded me with suspicion, assuming I had ulterior motives. Over the past two weeks of fleeing, I had endured much hardship.

The injustices I'd encountered, unlike any I'd known in the past 15 years, left the Baroness in a melancholic state. I had wanted to unleash my anger, to scold the innkeeper, but considering my current predicament, discretion was the better part of valor. I couldn't risk leaving a lasting impression that might lead to my being taken back to London. So, I swallowed the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue, turned on my heel, and exited with my head held high. It wasn't until I was out of the innkeeper's view that I crouched down on the street, wrapped my arms around my knees, and wept. If my father were still alive, this would never have happened! He had aspired to marry his little princess into No. 10 Downing Street. The memory of Nurse Claire and Sister Mary helping me pack on that night remained vivid. The wet nurse had packed my luggage with nearly all the jewelry and coins I could carry. My pregnant sister Mary had suffered at the hands of her child's father, my illegitimate brother, for concealing my whereabouts. I'll never forget how Nurse Claire clung to me in tears inside the dark closet, preventing me from rushing out. We had held each other in silence while Sister Mary's voice faded into the distance. I would never forget the sight of the bloodstains on the marble floor of Turner House as we hastily departed. Shards of shattered glass glistened under the crystal lamp's glow. We had left in a hurry amid my sister's screams, and Nurse Claire had personally escorted me onto the northbound train. Despite my pleading, she had refused to accompany me, choosing to stay in London. Her brown eyes had been brimming with tears as she'd said, "Live well, miss, live well..." The gnawing hunger in my stomach pulled me from my reverie. I needed to survive, for the honor of Baroness Turner, for Nurse Claire and Sister Mary. Only through survival could I have a future. I wiped away my tears and, after patting myself down, retrieved three chocolate pieces wrapped in gold foil. It was a humble brand available at malls. In the past, we had imported Swiss and Belgian confections, and I wouldn't have touched this variety. But now, with not a penny to my name, I welcomed it gladly. As I unwrapped the chocolate, ready to take my first bite, I noticed a young boy sitting across the street, about the age of my brother, his blue eyes locked onto me and the chocolate coin in my hand. We shared a prolonged gaze from across the street. He was a child, and I, in my desperation, was acting rather childishly myself. Eventually, I made my way over, suitcase in tow, and sat beside him, offering him the unopened chocolates. My intuition told me he was a runaway. To run away at a time like this, he must have been loved and cared for at home. Perhaps he was the little angel I needed to escape my troubles. He accepted the chocolates but seemed in no hurry to open them. I paid him no mind as my hunger overtook me, devouring the chocolate in my hand. "What's this?" he asked softly, eyeing me as I ate. "Chocolate," I replied honestly. "You're lying. The chocolate here doesn't look like that," he retorted, still fixated on the chocolate in his hand. True, even though it was a cheap brand, the glittering wrapping paper had an irresistible allure to children, not to mention the delicious chocolate within. "But this is how they make chocolate in London," I shrugged. "I've tasted better ones, from Switzerland and Belgium. The French are skilled in making chocolate desserts too. We used to have a French chef at home, and his desserts were exquisite." The boy's interest grew with each word I spoke. It was a promising start. "So, can I come to your house?" I feigned regret, "I'm afraid not. We had to let that chef go." The boy's bright blue eyes dimmed at my response, but I quickly added, "But I did learn a few dessert recipes from him. If there's a kitchen, I can make some for you." After some internal struggle, the boy finally stood up, took my hand, and led me to a busier street.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction #historical