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raayllum · 2 months

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She Must Pay the Price, or A Drop of Mercy :: A Rayla and Leola Meta

Quick:

You're a young elven girl, and you show mercy and compassion to a human that you definitely weren't supposed to. When it's found out, you're punished, with elves even calling for your execution (6x09, book 1 novelization). Your father does what he can, but there's only so much. You're put on trial. You're found guilty regardless of intent, and only by association. You die for this; you die for them. You're a star. A guiding light. There's even a Great Fall off a precipice (though only one of you hits the ground).

Your name is Leola, or Rayla.

You're the beginning and the end, respectively.

So let's talk about it.

Tests of Love

For years, I had wondered where Aaravos' assessment of "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear" (2x09) came from, cause you don't drop in a line like that if it's not going somewhere. It's quite a statement and worldview, after all. Now, with Leola's trial, it seems we know.

We can see, then, perhaps that Leola's gift giving was the first test of love — are you willing to break the Natural Law, the Natural Order of things? — to help another? To show another a source of power in order to share, to be compassionate, and in Rayla's case, to be merciful (though we'll get more to that in a minute).

We also know that the love Leola had was powerful and all encompassing:

She didn't care to follow the order set in the stars. Though she was born an immortal being from the Heavens, she loved this world... and all its flaws. Her heart was warm and open.

And she befriended mortals. Animals, elves... and humans.

ETHARI: Who I love, where I love, what I love, are all specific. But to Runaan and those like your parents... love is rooted in all families, all creatures. Souls like that feel called to protect everyone as fiercely as those they hold close. (Bloodmoon Huntress)

Okay, so Leola and Rayla both have big compassionate hearts and befriend creatures from all over the place. So what? So do Callum, Ezran, Soren, and most of our other main good guy characters. Even Claudia to a degree (though she could work on not using magical creatures for spell parts).

Well, specifically, it's because of how they intersect currently more with anyone else on the concept of

Mercy

KOSMO: Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled. (6x05)

Rayla sparing Marcos, as noted in multiple interviews by the creators and by myself in previous metas, is ultimately the inciting incident / lynchpin of the entire series. Without it, there would've been no soulfang proposal or Ez running away to find the egg or any of the number of other elements that had to come together to make achieving peace possible.

While we still have details to discover regarding Aaravos' Fall and development of dark magic, we know that a lack of mercy was ultimately what sent him on his path of vengeance. Leola was not shown mercy, and while it seems there were already "flaws" for an imperfect world, things were (probably) better than they currently are in Xadia in a variety of ways. Then, to kick off the entire Saga, we have Rayla sparing Marcos in a soundtrack literally titled "Mercy" and have Kosmo, seasons and seasons later, spell out directly what a big deal this was for well, the ocean of time.

None of this is to say Rayla can't act out of revenge — she did ("when I first came here, I was on a mission for revenge") and she has ("but I became so obsessed with revenge"), much like Aaravos ("he isn't doing anything out of love, he's doing it for revenge") — but that her general compassion and love for others has always been stronger than her grief or rage, and that even when she had every social and personal reason to, she was and is fundamentally unable to hurt someone innocent.

Even when she's shamed or punished for it by herself or by others. RAYLA: The human looked up at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you a job to do! (1x01)

EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

The Cosmic Council — and to a degree, the Silvergrove — say that the reasonings or motivations, the intentions, behind Leola and Rayla's actions do not and should not matter when it comes out to doling 'Justice'. So Leola faces her justice, being literally killed in the one manner that can kill a Startouch elf, and so does Rayla, being metaphorically Ghosted / 'murdered' by her community, regardless.

Neither are enough to ultimately quell their light or their love/power, however.

A Star

RAYLA: That beautiful shining star you just pointed out? We call it Leola's Last Wish. (5x02)

So both Leola and Rayla are stars in season 6, literally and metaphorically respectively. Leola's is more self-explanatory, whereas Rayla's is mostly about the role she has in Callum's life as a guiding light and star. I don't think it's a coincidence, though, that just as Rayla placed Callum on his path of being a primal mage, though, that Leola did the same for humanity. I also don't think it's a coincidence that Callum's love for Rayla restores Callum's own light and agency amid Leola giving humanity the same through light and fire.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. (TDP shorts, Ripples)

In this way, we see the manifestation of a repeating parallel of Rayla representing Leola, a gift giver of life, magic, light, unjustly punished/killed, and Callum representing humanity, looking to the kindest brightest star for guidance, magic, restoration, and salvation if he's just given the chance to grasp it. After all, presumably, Leola's last wish would have something to do with primal magic and humanity, and who represents that better than Callum, with two arcana under his belt and possibly more on the way? With that in mind, I want to return to another quote from earlier but with a different focus on

Ripples

Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled.

The wisest of the humans looked upon the water. His own reflection smiled back at him, and he dared to imagine what such power would feel like in his own hands, should he be allowed to hold it. Imagine, he thought, if I were more than what I am. With a trembling hand he touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread from his fingertips. [...] I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand. In this, the humans taught me another lesson. And so I touch the surface of the water. I watch the ripples spread.

Water in TDP is a strange beast, symbolically speaking. There are some more straight forward motifs (reflections, "don't try to control where the river [of life] goes, there's one thing you can know and control: yourself"). For Aaravos, it's connected to deep loss but also his own sense of patience in playing and winning his game, as illustrated above. For Rayla, it's linked to shame, self-reflection, bravery, and loss. Aaravos weeps and creates a sea upon losing Leola; Rayla says goodbye to her family by the lotus pond times three.

We don't know what water represents for Leola. Not distinctly, anyway. The best we can figure though, is that by following the through line of the Rayla and Leola parallels, that the ripples Leola wanted to send out or did send out — not the distortions caused by her father and his grief — are ones that Rayla received, and then continued.

Rayla has always been a foil to Aaravos, and this hasn't changed. She is the one who set Callum on the path initially of being a mage, which put him in Aaravos' machinations as prey; she retrieved his Key; and she's the reason Callum's done dark magic, twice. At the same time, much like the moon, Rayla carries Leola's light as much as she shoulders Aaravos' dark. She literally represents light in Callum's life, helps lead him through the darkness, and him being a primal mage and it's possible growth to other humans is the best possible thing that could've ever happened to Xadia.

Sol Regem says that "no one can save" Xadia or fix what is deeply broken. The Cosmic Council said that Leola had broken the Cosmic order and had to pay the price. Rayla has repeatedly been willing to pay the price for both hers and other's actions in hopes of making things right, of sparing others' pain. Sometimes to her detriment, but—if Rayla as Callum's one Truth could fix the darkness within him, if she's the lynchpin for breaking the Cycle, for bringing back Runaan and fixing her family's souls, in opposing and presenting mercy amid the Council's lack of mercy, in the face of Xadia's violence—

Then Rayla's act of mercy in 1x01, and potentially beyond in S7 with Callum, will be what fixes Xadia.

Leola's gift of magic is what 'broke' Xadia, and her execution is what literally did so, leading to the division of the continent. She wrongly paid the price in the absence of mercy and love. Rayla is therefore her thematic successor — welcomed this time as Light and Truth — as the carrier of Mercy and Love, and she will 'fix' Xadia through her ripples and dynamics. She will mend them back together. There will, at last, be no price to pay.

Misc. Thoughts / Predictions

One thing I was always curious about going forward into future seasons was the prospect of a 'trial' or reunification of the Silvergrove. It felt like a no-brainer the Silvergrove would have to change in order to reflect Runaan's character arc, much the way we see Katolis and the Sunfire elves change to better accommodate the new, more compassionate world order. Pre-S4 a trial felt a little strange as an idea, though post-S4 the parallels it could provide to the Lucia tribunal made more sense about why include either (or both).

However, Leola's trial seemed to hammer home the almost necessity (as this is still a prediction, after all, that may not happen) of Rayla and/or Runaan saying their peace to the Silvergrove leaders. This would be a great opportunity to provide a contrast to the Cosmic Council, reaffirming that Xadia is ultimately better than them because the Moonshadow elves and everyone else can change, and the Cosmic Council seemingly cannot or will not. But I guess we'll have to wait for S7 or beyond (#GiveUsTheSaga) to find out if this'll come to fruition or not.

I also wanted to touch on what we see with Leola ("I'm so scared!") and the repeated emphasis on "recognizing fear as a moment of empathy and personhood" and the horror that can come if you don't have that moment of recognition. This is something I've touched on before most notably as a striking difference between S1 Rayla and S5 Claudia, but I thought it was worth mentioning as S6 added to it specifically with Viren towards Soren and Lissa. This is another point in the "Rayla is an inversion of the Council's lack of mercy" column, as Leola's — a child's fear, and Aaravos willing to pay the price and take her place — earns her no mercy. Rayla, meanwhile, sees someone innocent that she has 'every right' to execute is afraid of her, and that strays her hand; it steadies her sword, and she spares him. Because if someone is afraid of you, it's worth asking yourself why, and what you might want to do instead.

Last but not least I wanted to talk about Leola's parallels to Callum and Ezran as well, since they are very much there (though yet not perhaps to the same extent).

Ezran has Leola's friendliness to animals and soft heart. He too is a child whose death is called for as a means of Justice, and he is granted mercy through Rayla and the discovery of the egg, able to live and grow and help usher in peace. He is, I think, what Leola might've been allowed to be if she'd lived in different times. Callum, meanwhile, carries the gift giving motif through his cube, staff, and tokens he both gives to (moon-phoenix bracelet) and receives (the moon opal necklace) from Rayla, and previous 'human-Leola' magic dynamic. Callum being able to break free fully from Aaravos' and dark magic's control in S7 and turn his eye instead to primal magic will be what helps bring true justice to Leola and hope for humanity / Xadia in righting the Cosmic Council's fundamental wrongdoing. Hopefully, anyway.

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into some parallels and potential narrative goings-on between Leola and Rayla as characters. TDP loves its historical and ironic layers in TDP (Ez and the Orphan Queen, Viren's arc from S1 to S6) and I think this layered thematic dynamic between the two merciful young girls was a good, brilliant choice by the creative team. I'm excited to see where this thematic thread goes in the future and how it may continue to be woven into the story. As always, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one.

#tdp rayla #tdp leola #tdp meta #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince #she must pay the price #s6 spoilers #multi #arc 1 #arc 2 #s6 #analysis series #analysis #parallels #rayla #leola

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the-well-known-scout · 10 months

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A Bride in the Eyes of Some

Tywin Lannister X Reader Fic 🦁

(nsfw!)

“The Lady (Y/N) Lannister”, a title that ran through your mind and rang in your ears as you heard it.

You felt a certain disdain run down your spine that day, a rattle in your soul like no other. The announcement was a shocking one to you, remembering the day you were declared as the newest woman to Tywin Lannister. You remembered the wedding, how he didn’t share more than the hardest of pecks on your cheek as the Septon declared you man and wife. You remember the silence, the groaning and worn down creaking of the bed of your wedding night. You forced yourself to like it, you forced yourself to muster out pseudo-moans as Lannister-bred seed poured into you. You forced yourself to embrace your life as a vessel for blonde-haired children, with eyes as green as emeralds with a stiff lip. He’d never love you like he loved Joanna, you would never replace the whole in his heart she left behind. You would never be his love, you’d never be her. Or so, you thought.

Over time, you had learned to navigate the Red Keep, you learned to navigate the people that resided there. And you especially learned to navigate your lord husband, of Tywin. At times you didn’t have much to go off of, a grunt or a mumble underneath his breath damning something to the Seven Hells. His cunning mind and how it worked its’ way around the realms of politicking and pursuits of power. It intimidated you, it made you question yourself and your intelligence. Which you knew for sure, was a purposeful act. You needed to be on his time, you needed his mind, or he’d cast you away as useless. You learned to keep your distance at times, the Great Lion a man you didn’t dare to want to upset. You kept your interactions to a tee, never wanting to overbear him with what he viewed as “imperfections”. He only needed you when he called you, whether it be an execution of such schemes, or to warm his bed. He didn’t love to embrace your flesh, you imagine he thought of Joanna as he rocked you against the sheets. But you were wrong in that behalf, at least, as he grew used to you.

To most of Westeros, and even his own flesh and blood, Tywin was a lonely, bitter soul that threw back at the world what it gave to him; ten times as harsher. A cold, calculating man that cared for the benefit of him and him alone. But, he remained gentle with you, becoming more than a means of his lust. He was as delicate as he could be, being the Great Lion of The Rock. A softer stare in your direction rather than the cold, brutish one he darted to his enemies, or even the politest of terms when he speaks of you. You could listen to the words “lady-wife” roll off of his tongue all day and into the darkest of nights. He learned to tolerate your differentiating antics over time, finding them rather comical as he grew to know you more. How you interacted with servants among the Rock, to how passionate you grew about something you were determined for. You watched as a connection blossomed between you two, no longer the glacial silence that you both slept through, begging for one of you to find the courage to speak.

He would watch you as you read in bed with him, occasionally making a few notes and sneers about your posture. He would poke at the Old Valaryian books you insisted to put your nose in, laughing at your naïveté of the past. You were on guard at first, ready to bite back at whatever you felt was an insult until you realized it. He was talking to you, he was jeering with you. He was loving you. What stared off as the burden of your existence, the dread you wished to hide from as you laid next to him, become passionate. You were making love to Lord Tywin Lannister. No longer hid pathetic tears you held back, became moaning, a desperation for flesh you shared.

You daydreamed of how he rocked your hips atop of him, his grunting and slight-growling. He never said much during the act of fervoring your cunt onto him, but he didn’t need to. You would have his children, you would make his heirs, hopefully to turn out better than the three he was given. He was strong enough to place you how he saw fit, whether it be upon your knees, lying on your back and holding onto your ankles, or below him. He wanted you to worship him, every inch and fold of his skin he gave to you. At times, he’d whap you across the bottom, leaving warm spots from where his hands struck. At other times, he would have you on your knees, pulling you by the shoulder back to the gracious inches he gave to you. Tywin’s hands were some of the most dangerous pair within Westeros, hands you were not exempt from in the bed. And he would fuck you, until he grew tired, or had had you well-filled with enough loads of his seed to give him an entire line of Lannisters.

As his seed would pool out of you when you turned over to find a smidgen of rest, you would feel him. A singular hand wrapped around you, his head not too far from your shoulder. It was no longer the political prison you so desperately wanted to escape, it was love. Love of the highest points, love that stretched from The Rock to Dorne. A love that could never be taken away from you. A love that would be seen and heard among the Gods and men, new and old. And a love, you would never want out of.

#game of thrones #got #asoiaf #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin lannister x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #got x reader #house lannister #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #casterly rock

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whore4abby · 10 months

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salt & sugar; ellie williams

a/n; this was in my drafts for over a month and i finally finished it today lol and i kinda hate it

summary; ellie’s birthday surprise fails, so she makes it up to you in different way

warnings; smut - cunnilingus (r!receiving), mdni

wc; 0.9K

the kitchen is a delightful chaos, with flour dusting the countertops and mixing bowls scattered across the table. ellie had practically dedicated her entire day in the kitchen, the air filled with a cacophony of pots and pans clanging together. every time you even came near to the kitchen she would lovingly yet firmly shoo you away promptly, yelling about how you’re gonna ruin the surprise.

the sides of the cake smudged with swirls of frosting, giving it a gorgeous and imperfect appearance. the top adorned, with a layer of pink sprinkles that are haphazardly scattered and despite its messy appearance, you cant help but fall in love with the gesture of ellie baking for you.

in the end, it's not about the messy appearance or the not so flawless execution. It's about the intention and the effort.

your heart practically melts as ellie proudly presents the cake to you with a beaming smile filling her freckled, sun-kissed face. “happy birthday, gorgeous!”

you rush over to her, looking at her with big doe eyes. “ellie….you really made me a cake? thank you, thank you!” you can't contain your joy as you lean in to give her a tender kiss. and the realisation hits you like a wave - ellie had actually went through all the trouble of making you a cake and a giggle escapes your lips.

she slices you a generous portion of the cake and waits expectantly for you to take a bite. you happily scoop some of the cake onto your fork and you take a bite, expecting a burst of sugary goodness. however, your taste buds are greeted with an unexpected and overwhelming saltiness. and you instantly recoil at the sour taste. “ellie- what the fuck?!”

“ellie you used salt instead of sugar…!” you groan and watch her full lips form an ‘o’ shape as she realises her mistake. “fuck baby, i just ruined your birthday huh?”

you pout and shake your head, “god no! baby it doesn’t matter….the fact that you even went through all this hassle to make me a cake in the first place is the sweetest thing ever.”

you lean up to give her a kiss on her lips, lingering there for a couple seconds before pulling away and giggling, “but you’re probably the worst baker i know…”

ellies face scrunches up as she tries to defend herself, giving you a little frown. but her defense quickly falls apart, as she knows it’s true, she’s a terrible cook, her shoulders fall in defeat and she runs her hands through her messy hair.

”hey….hey, it’s okay.” you coo softly and tuck some stray hair behind her ear before planting kisses across her flushed cheeks. “ellie it really doesn’t matter. i love you, okay?”

a wave of relief washes over ellie as her eyes crinkle at the corners, smiling coyly as she nods her head. her expression soft and content as she sighs, “mhm…i love you too.” she reaches out and gently tucks some of your hair behind your ear, just the way you had done so for her seconds earlier.

ellie leans in and starts to kiss you languidly, her tongue gently swiping against yours as she pushes her hands into your hair. a soft moan escapes both of you as the kiss deepens. eventually you both surface for air and gaze at eachother with an undeniable lust.

“can i make it up to you?” her wide eyes filled with desire as she hoists you up onto the counter and drops to her knees in front of you, manoeuvring you to quickly pull off your shorts and push your panties aside. you nod dumbly, your breath hitching in your chest as she exposes your cunt to the open air, your body trembling in anticipation for what she’s about to do.

ellie looks up at you through her thick lashes, her fingers graze against your inner thighs and up towards your waiting pussy. “so wet already, baby~” she runs her fingertips over your slit and collects up all the slick pooled there and smushes it over your clit.

she leans in and with the first stroke of her tongue, she already has you whimpering out her name and begging her for more. she pushes her face against you, bumping into your clit with her nose as she licks up and down the silky skin.

ellie finally plunges her tongue into your pussy, rubbing circles over your clit with her thumb as she fucks you with her tongue. she’s lapping up at your slit and tasting you as your back arches up into her and you cry out in pleasure. “fuck….ellie. please don’t stop~”

you thrust your hips upward and gently tug on ellie's hair as the moans and whines continue to spill from your lips as she continues to lick and suck at you, tormenting your clit and flicking her tongue against it harshly.

you’re panting, absolutely consumed by the pleasure that ellie is able to coax from your body, your grip on her hair tightening as you get closer to cumming right into her mouth.

she flattens her tongue and holds it flush against you, shaking her head side to side, slurping up at your sopping hole and moaning into you. “g-gonna cum….els, fuck~” you whine, your thighs clamping around her head as you grind into her face as you cum.

the taste of you still lingering on her tongue as she stands up straight again and connects your mouths lazily, tongues meeting messily and letting you taste yourself.

you pull away and press your forehead against hers, smiling at her dreamily as you look into her blown pupils and listen to her low voice whispering to you, “happy birthday, sweet girl.”

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams

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firesnap · 8 months

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Rambling about bad c!Crime takes in 2024.

I think the struggle with being a c!Crime fan during peak DSMP was having to deal with the people who would unironically use "vilbur" like it was a badge of honor and the ones who legitimately thought c!Tommy was 8-years-old at the beginning of L'Manberg.

Like, I don't need to rehash a lot of this. A hundred meta essays were about how Tommy was not responsible for Wilbur's mental health, that he was a front row audience member watching Wilbur's decline and begging people to intercede because he was a damn teenager with zero tools in his kit for "help my brother is frightening me and he's ten feet from me but I think I've lost him in this cave."

But you can still see people go "Ok Tommy helped make Wilbur worse."

No. Just no Tommy's worst behaviors didn't impact Wilbur because Wilbur was so far into his own spiral at that point that it just didn't even phase him if Tommy called him insane. You can't put that on Tommy. When Wilbur came back he even said he could recognize the man he was back then was frightening and beyond what Tommy should have had to see.

But, saying Wilbur acted on violent delusions on Tommy or emotionally abused him or isolated Tommy on purpose... Girl this isn't exile arc and you're not getting c!Crime.

Wilbur and Tommy at their best were moments were like... Tommy with a shield in front of Wilbur, Wilbur with a hand on Tommy's shoulder saying to be better than Wilbur ever was, Tommy and Wilbur running through a small nation and dancing on beaches and laughing at how fucking much the other one sucked with every bit of affection in the world tied behind those words. It was a loop of I'd die for you, I'd die for anything but especially you and Who the fuck ever asked you to die??

At their worst they were a negative feedback loop that fed each other. Tommy was possessive of Wilbur, from even the early L'Manberg days, to the point where Wilbur often neglected other relationships to give Tommy attention. He was angry at Wilbur for falling off the pedestal that Tommy put him on. Wilbur was just as dependent on Tommy being always behind him and took advantage of the fact that Tommy wouldn't leave. He dumped his own fears and paranoia and self-hatred at Tommy's feet and then assumed that this person younger than him could sort through it.

And if you can't handle hearing how they fed the worst parts of each other, then maybe you aren't really here for that dynamic. Maybe you've made something else up in your head that you like more. And that's fine, man. Do whatever the server is gone. Just don't act like your personal version is what canon gave us.

Also, something something it's totally fine to dislike Wilbur's finale btw, but as imperfect as the execution was, it was right on board with what they were telling us about c!Crime from right when Wilbur was revived to Wilbur telling Ranboo that, essentially, Tommy would never leave him and Wilbur knew that wasn't healthy. They needed to break the cycle to save themselves and whatever brotherhood was between them.

They were about acknowledging they were tied to each other in fucked up and unhealthy ways, but needing that sense of brother so much that they were both afraid to do anything about it.

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greenerteacups · 1 month

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Hi GT. I hope this message finds you well. I am sending all the good vibes and we'll wishes your way! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you've had a wonderful summer.

I'm such a big fan of your work. Lioneheart is amazing and has stuck with me for such a long time.

I was wondering if you had any other stories you'd like to explore one day (even if you never get the chance to write them.) Whether it be fanfiction or original work, I was just curious because sometimes I feel as if I have hundreds of stories inside that I could tell, and I am not sure how to pick just one and see it to completion.

First of all, thank you! This is a fun one. I have a few enduring ideas for longfics I may or may not ever write (i.e., ideas that would have been projects already if I didn't have an ongoing longfic). I don't get stuck in them mostly because I try to remind myself that the idealized story you imagine when a concept occurs to you will never actually exist as it does when it's unshackled by the constraints of execution. What you'll get if you actually sit down and hack it out is (1) a real and imperfect piece of writing, and (2) the satisfaction of having written it, which is by far the more reliable source of motivation, if we're being honest. That being said, here are some ideas I've always wanted to explore, if and when I finish Lionheart:

I've always wanted to write a longform canon-divergent Tomione fic about Tom Riddle's 7th year at Hogwarts. Big honking political melodrama ft. the original Knights of Walpurgis, a Triwizard Tournament, and realistically functioning time travel (hence why this one's always been kicked down my list of projects, because writing a time-travel plot is like running through a minefield made of trampolines). I've already got character concepts sketched out for the Hogwarts cast — sooooo many fun ideas for the teenage Walburga. But I'd still need about a week of solid fic preproduction on the plot alone before I was ready to boot up and start writing, and it'd take at least 250k words — closer to 300k, if I'm being honest about myself. So this probably won't see the light of day anytime remotely soon, if ever.

A canon-compliant Dramione war fic, diverging from the Malfoy Manor chapters in Book 7, picking up from a speculative thread I read once about what would happen if the war didn't end after Voldemort died at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've always thought it would be fascinating to see who Hermione and Draco would become if they were actual soldiers in the war (and my disappointment with how Book 7 handled the "war" of it all has been established). That being said, Book 7 of Lionheart will probably give me a lot of similar ideas to chew on, so I don't know what my appetite for this one will be once I'm finished with it.

Durmstrang AU. This one's barely a fic concept so much as it is a mental moodboard — I just want to worldbuild the hell out of Durmstrang. And the international wizarding world, generally. It's a delicious sandbox.

A longform canon-compliant fic or series of fics about the previous generation of Blacks (Sirius/Bellatrix/Narcissa, namely). If you look at the books, there's a huge amount we don't know about the fall of the Blacks. I always found it bizarre that the sisters and Sirius seem to be the only ones left by 1995. No one else has a claim? No one else from this all-powerful wizarding family wants to step in and claim this big honking townhouse in the middle of London? Or its attendant fortune? Dude, what happened? Also, we don't see nearly enough of the Black family melodrama in canon. They lose 4/5 children of a generation in the span of almost single decade. And then (presumably) all of their parents die in the span of another. Goddamn. Just imagine the character work you could do there.

A No Chosen One/Voldemort Wins (The First Time) AU where Hermione never gets her letter, and meets Draco much later in life as a self-taught witch. The dynamics I have in my head for this are really enjoyable, and it would be a chance to finally write Hermione POV, plus the Draco I've cooked up for this universe is [chefs kiss]. I also just love the idea of Hermione as a feral witch-child running around muggle London. I love it a lot.

#greenteacup asks #dramione

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uvobreakmylegs · 5 months

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Burst

the fic I wrote for @hypnoswrites's birthday this year, who asked for a fic with Razor💜💜💜

demon!Razor x reader

Warnings: mentions of execution, mentions of torture, blood, death, gore

Word Count: 7.5k

The thin, sharp point of the sewing needle pierced through the soft cloth effortlessly, the thread attached to the end gliding through the small in the fabric until it snagged to a stop, unable to go any further once it had run out. Adjusting your grip on the cloth, the process was then repeated as you pushed the needle back into the fabric to complete the stitch, the thread gliding through once more. And so it went, stitch after stitch while a sleeve slowly began to form in your hands, the long bit of fabric becoming more recognizable as such when your thread pulled the pieces together in a tight seam.

The art of creating should be one that was satisfying. To take a lifeless piece of fabric and give it shape, give it a form that made it useful should be something that would make the creator proud. Not only that they had the skills to create clothing, but to also see the satisfaction of those who wore it once it was complete. The pay was well, yes, but to see someone happy with the work you had created was an added bonus. To see the happy smiles while they twirled around in your clothing, posing in front of the mirror and offering you words of praise. It was nice to know they appreciated your work, and with that, knowing that you offered something of value. While there would always be difficult and ungrateful customers, the ones that you had made happy were what drove you forward.

There was no satisfaction to be had in your work now.

You felt a bead of sweat beginning to run down your forehead, and you lifted up your arm to wipe it away, staying on constant alert so as to not allow anything to stain the fabric you now held as any imperfection would not be tolerated.

Time was growing short.

Day would come soon, and with it, your execution.

You shuddered as you continued to sew, trying to hurry as you continued to sew up the sleeve that lay in your lap. Sitting on the floor of a cold room at the top of a foreboding tower, there was fabric strewn all over the small area, both cut and uncut, all assembled into particular piles so you wouldn't need to go searching for them once you got to the other dresses.

'Other dresses'.

You bit your lip in frustration, knowing there was no way you'd even get that far.

Hours of work since you had been thrown in here, and there wasn't much to show for it: a bodice with one sleeve attached, another sleeve that was only half-finished and the beginnings of a skirt. Outside of the dress you were working on, the six others only existed as cut up pieces and were in no way presentable. And even with what you did have complete, it didn't account for the detail that the dresses were meant to have. Nor for the fact that you were meant to complete seven immaculate dresses before that door was opened again.

Seven gowns for the lordship's wife and their six daughters, to be made in the finest silks, embroidered and adorned with jewelry, all of which had been stuffed into the space you currently occupied. That was the feat that would save your life.

You knew that it was impossible.

No matter what skill you had when it came to your craft, there was no way for you to be able to complete seven gowns of high quality in the span of a single night. But you thought that perhaps if you were to make at least one of good quality, the lady and her daughters would be entranced enough that they would beg for the lord to spare your life so you could complete the rest. At least for a week. That would be all you needed to complete those gowns to their satisfaction, you were sure of it.

If you were granted that mercy, you could then use the time you had in finishing the other six gowns to earn the favor of those seven women and convince them to let you go free, and in that way, you could avoid the agonizing death of being tied up while the flames burned in a pyre beneath your feet.

But that wouldn't happen if you couldn't complete even one of them. If, when the tower door was opened again, they saw that it was only partially complete, you would be hauled off to the town square and set alight for everyone to see and gawk at.

No, that wouldn't be what happened first.

You had heard of what happened to others who had been accused of witchcraft: they were tortured for hours before their executions, regardless of whether they denied the accusation or not. And when they were brought before the public, they were paraded around so they could be abused further by way of the crowd throwing stones, mud and whatever else was on hand and easy to throw. Only then would the execution begin, a slow, painful process that began with heavy smoke that filled up your lungs and ended by being engulfed in flames.

The thought of all of that terrified you, and as you heard the bells of the church ring out the time of one o'clock in the morning, you were spurred to go faster. As fast as you were able to without your work coming out shoddy, at least.

There was some relief that hit you once the second sleeve was finished and you were able to begin stitching it onto the bodice. Once that part was fully finished, you would be able to continue your work on the skirt, and upon the completion of that, you could add in the details that would entrance the women who held your fate in their hands. Hopefully enough so that your failure to produce seven gowns would be forgiven.

It would be forgiven, you assured yourself. As long as you could complete the one, you could save yourself.

So you continued to toil away as the hour grew later and later.

When the second sleeve was firmly attached to the bodice, you were able to turn your attention to the skirt, continuing where you had left off earlier. Once the skirt was finished and attached to the rest, you would need to add in the detailing, you reminded yourself. The embroidery for the accents, as well as the jewels that were expected to complete the gown. All of that detailed work required time and couldn't be rushed.

Was completing even one possible?

You bit your lip again.

It would be fine, you told yourself. You could do this much.

You continued.

Once the skirt was finished and you began to attach it to the bodice, you heard the church bells ring out twice.

Two in the morning.

Dawn would come at six.

It would be fine. After the skirt was attached, you could spend the remaining four hours adding in the details. That was enough time to make the gown a thing of beauty.

You'd never done it in such a short amount of time but you could do it, you told yourself.

At the risk of your life being lost, you could do anything.

You continued stitching fast while doing your best to keep them from being sloppy, and while you did so, you glanced over to the multitude of threads and jewels that had been placed in here alongside the fabric, going over in your head which ones you would use and what design would work best with this particular gown. While you had time, you wished to get this part of the work done with so you could get to those important details. So you sped up just a little bit more.

Your haste was your undoing.

You stabbed your finger with the needle.

Crying out, you dropped the gown while you pulled your hand away, bringing it up to your face to inspect the damage. Already there was blood dripping down your finger, more than you would've expected. And before you could think to pull your hand away further, a single drop of the red liquid fell from your hand and down onto the gown on your lap.

No no no no no no no-!

The blood droplet landed right in the middle of the sleeve, spreading out as it soaked into the fabric. You jumped to your feet, holding the gown with one hand while you looked for something to use to wash the blood out. It was still salvageable.

Except you only realized now that they hadn't given you any food or water when they locked you in here, and you were so focused on completing your task that it hadn't crossed your mind before.

There was nothing you could do.

No, there needed to be something-!

In a move of panic, you rushed forward as you looked for anything, anything that could save the sleeve.

Your state of panic was so great that you didn't notice when the edge of the gown came far too close to a nearby candle. Only when you heard the fabric igniting followed by the unmistakable smell of smoke did you realize the awful blunder.

You could go up in flames before the morning even came.

The next moments were spent frantically as you beat the flames out of the gown with both hands. The fire was determined to spread quickly and the flames were hot against the aching skin of your palms, but the fire ultimately was put out as quickly as it had started. But that meant very little to you in that moment.

You held up the bottom of the dress, falling to your knees once you saw the extent of the damage. There was no salvaging the skirt; the flames had traveled too far, leaving the fabric burnt and curled on the edges. And what hadn't been affected by the flames had managed to get your blood on it, complementing the sleeve which now had a large red blot marring the center of it. You would need to replace both of them completely.

Hours worth of work now meant nothing, and you would need to start over if you wanted a chance of keeping your life. You let out a shaky breath as you went over in your head all that would need to be redone. Only the bodice and second sleeve were usable. You were back to only having a bodice and a sleeve done, and you would need to redo the other parts. That would take time.

Outside, you heard the church bells ring out three times.

Three in the morning.

Three hours until dawn. Only three hours.

You were doomed.

In that moment, you fell into despair.

You were reduced to a sobbing mess in the middle of that room, realizing that your bid to save yourself had failed. It was too late now to start over. You wouldn't be able to get even that single dress done, and when they opened that door to find you in the middle of your half-finished project that was partially burnt, you would burn as well.

The lord had also told you that if you didn't produce the dresses, the punishment you would receive would be harsher than it would have originally, as he had no desire for you to waste either his time or that of his wife and daughters. All of them would be angry.

The horrors of torture would be worse. The pain would be worse. All of it would be worse.

And with you still trapped in that room with no way of getting past that locked door on your own, you found yourself begging for someone to help you. For someone to appear and take you away from this awful place, to save you from that horrific fate.

Please, you thought to yourself while you cried, clutching the ruined dress up to your face while the blood from your injured finger had finally staunched.

Please let someone save me from this.

I'll do anything

That heroic character who saw the truth of the situation and keep you from harm refused to appear, and you stayed where you were, unable to cease your tears at the hopelessness of everything. You were barely able to note when you heard the rain from the outside begin to hit the roof above you, starting out as a drizzle before becoming stronger, pattering against the tile of the roof.

But after a few moments, you noticed the next change faster: inexplicably, the room became cold. All of the heat that had built up from the many candles was gone, and you were suddenly shivering against the stone floor, your clothes and the fabric beneath you offering little protection.

Immediately recognizing that as strange, you pulled your head back up, wiping away a few stray tears as you looked about, uncertain as to what could have caused the change in temperature to be so drastic.

“Am I right in assuming that the pyre outside is meant for you?”

The male voice that spoke into your ear had you screeching as you scurried forward, crawling away on all fours before you reached the wall and turned to see who had managed to sneak up on you.

It turned out to be a man, one who was currently crouching down next to where you had been sitting moments before. A guard? Given his size and his build, he certainly could have been. But no. Based on the slightly tattered clothing he wore, he didn't look like one of them. At the moment it seemed more likely that the purple-haired man sitting before you was a prisoner like yourself. But he hadn't been in here before. You'd been alone for hours now.

You glanced to the door, expecting to see it open. Yet it was still shut tight, and you got the feeling that if you were to try again to push it open, you would be met with a solid resistance, the wood that made up the door far stronger than yourself.

How had he entered without you noticing?

Your attention was brought back to the man when he spoke to you again, a friendly smile on his face as he asked “well? Am I right?”

Despite your confusion as to how he had suddenly appeared, you decided it would be best to answer the man seeing that you were locked in a room with him. So after staying quiet for a few moments, you nodded.

He hummed.

“You must be accused of something awful, then. People aren't burned for just anything,” the man said, settling down on the floor in a seated position.

Instead of elaborating on why you were to be executed, you asked “who are you? How did you get in? Why are you here?”

He didn't give you the courtesy of an answer to any of your questions; instead he chuckled at you. It certainly felt as though he was amused by your frantic state, and that only had you feeling worse about him.

“Why are you here?!” you repeated.

He motioned for you to shush.

“You should keep your voice down,” he told you, “that guard outside is asleep for now, but that might not be the case for long if you keep going like that.”

There was sense in his words, and you quickly glanced back over to the door, worried at the possibility of any movement behind it. Both you and the mystery man would be in trouble should he be discovered in here with you, and no doubt he would suffer for attempting to help you escape.

…. Was that even what he was here to do?

You looked back to the man, uncertain of what to make of him.

You still couldn't fathom how he had gotten in without either you or the guard outside noticing, and you were at a loss as to why he was here at all. But he was right that you should keep your voice down.

Sensing that you were in a calmer state, he spoke again.

“To start with your first question, my name is Razor,” he said, adding “I don't think the answer to your second question is as interesting as you might expect.”

Razor settled himself further, leaning against the wall as he continued with “as for the third, I'm only here because you called for me.”

Called for….?

You realized what he was speaking of. The desperate plea of yours that was going through your head moments ago. Had you been speaking out loud when you said that? How could he have even heard that?

“You heard that?” you asked.

“Barely,” he answered, “you were lucky. You happened to ask at the right time and I happened to be around.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you wondered what the time had to do with anything.

Razor continued before you had the chance to ask, saying “now that I've answered those questions of yours, how about you answer mine?”

“… On if the pyre is meant for me?”

“What else?”

You looked down to the floor, your eyes ending up on the burnt and bloody gown that sat between the two of you as you quietly nodded.

“Yes, it's for me.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

“I've been accused of witchcraft.”

He didn't seem all that surprised by your answer. His eyes went to the gown as well before they examined the rest of the materials in the room. At the sight of him glancing around, you noted something: Razor's eyes were unusually dark. No, not just dark. The irises were pitch-black.

Was Razor even human?

The thought was unexpected but the explanation made sense of certain things if true. Such as how he had appeared out of nowhere, or how he could have heard that desperate plea for help – that when you thought about it more, you were certain you hadn't said that aloud. Though the fear from earlier settled into you once more at this realization. How could you be sure that Razor was benevolent?

Spirits and fae were spoken of in whispers and tall tales, and usually done so with no small amount of fear. It was well known that most otherworldly beings didn't care much for the likes of humans, and most stayed away from the places humans had settled into, keeping to their places in nature that humans couldn't get to. And when an unlucky human did come across the path of one of those beings, the story would usually end in tragedy, with that person disappearing completely or their brutalized remains being discovered some time later.

If you disappeared right now no one would care

The depressing thought that came through was unhelpful and you told yourself to stop.

Then came Razor's next question.

“Why were you accused?”

You sat up more, trying to adjust your posture. He didn't comment on it, but you were worried you might have offended him with the way you ran from him earlier.

“A ship sank during a storm,” you told him.

At that, Razor actually seemed puzzled as he asked “a sunken ship? That's what this is about? Surely the people here would be aware that such things are common. What did the survivors say?”

You lowered your head as you said “there were no survivors.”

“None?”

You shook your head.

“There were witnesses who said they saw the crew trying to swim to shore, but that all eventually vanished beneath the water. Some claimed that they saw white hands pulling them under. The accounts of those witnesses led everyone to believe that the sinking was the work of something evil, and then one of the village women came forward to say she saw me orchestrating the whole thing on a hill near the bay.”

“So you're here because you were careless.”

“No!”

You leaned forward on your hands as you exclaimed “I had nothing to do with any of that! I was just as horrified at what happened as anyone else! My only crime was that I watched the ship as it sank. I had no power at all in that situation!”

It was after your outburst that you remembered to keep your voice down, and you slapped a hand over your mouth as you once again looked to the door.

Mercifully, nothing came from it.

“I'm sorry,” you said a moment later.

Luckily for you, he nodded as he said “it's alright. It's quite understandable why you would react that way, given what you're facing.”

How odd that you felt a tiny bit better just from hearing that. It did nothing to change what you were going through, but just that little bit of empathy gave you a small peace of comfort. The words he said next did as well.

“For what it's worth, I believe you,” Razor said.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” you answered.

“I take it no one else did?”

You shook your head, saying “I only arrived a fortnight ago in search of work. No one here knows me.”

“So you were selected because you were the outsider.”

You nodded.

“Well, that explains what I saw outside,” Razor began. Then he looked about the room as he continued with “but I would like to know what exactly is going on with all of this.”

You sighed.

“A last-ditch effort to save myself,” you answered sadly, explaining as you said “the lord of the castle gave me one night before the execution after I told him I would make his wife and daughters fine gowns in exchange for my freedom.”

“How many?”

“Seven.”

“You set yourself up for failure,” Razor said bluntly.

“I knew that I could never make seven in one night,” you told him, “but I thought that if I could make at least one, they would allow me more time to make the rest, and from there I might secure my freedom.”

Razor said nothing before he looked down at the burnt and bloody dress that lay before him. In particular, he seemed focused on the smears of blood that had marred the fabric, and when he looked back up to you, his gaze went to the finger you had accidentally stabbed with the needle.

“Clearly, that plan failed,” he said.

You hung your head low as you admitted “it probably wasn't going to work at all. Even if I finished that one, it likely wouldn't be acceptable. All of this was just a desperate effort to push off the inevitable for as long as I could.”

Glancing back up at him, you then asked “unless you have some way for all of them to be done by the morning.

Razor gave you a flat look as he said “do I look like I know anything about making dresses?”

“…. I suppose not.”

The cold was beginning to bother you more now, and you wrapped your arms around yourself in an effort to retain some heat. You noted that the rain was coming down harder now, the water striking the roof with more force than the simple drizzle from before. Maybe that would push off your execution, you idly thought. If the wood was too wet to set alight, you might live longer than you anticipated. Though it would likely do nothing to save you from the torture. If anything, it would prolong it. You shuddered.

Razor was quiet, his gaze on you while he seemingly evaluated you.

He came to you because he had heard your cry for help, didn't he? Did he intend to help you, or was he only here to witness your misery up close?

You wouldn't know until you asked.

“I know you said how you got in wouldn't be interesting to me,” you began, “but… Would it be possible for you to take me out the way you got in?”

“No.”

The blunt answer was unexpected, and you looked back up as you blinked in surprise.

“Oh.”

Your voice was shaky now, and you were barely able to breathe out the words “why did you come here, then?”

“I was curious,” he answered.

…. Curious.

That was all. He saw the scene outside in the nearby village and wanted to know what that was all about. Now he knew, and he likely wouldn't stay around for much longer. And unless the rain delayed the execution, by noon tomorrow you would be sent up to the sky in a plume of darkened smoke.

Your fate was sealed.

With that realization, your spirit broke for the second time that night and you began to sob, overcome with grief while you curled into yourself with your head in your hands, tears obscuring your vision. The rain outside was beginning to come down harder, and in one spot of the room, a bit of the water was beginning to drip onto the pile of fabrics, but you were too distraught to notice.

“Why are you crying?”

Razor sounded genuinely confused when he asked that a moment later.

After a few moments of trying to compose yourself, you shakily answered “I-I'm really go-going to die tomorrow.”

“Why are you so certain of that?”

“Because you can't help me,” you answered just as your mind began going wild with many terrible thoughts.

You'll be cut up and stuck like a pig. Burning coals placed in and against you. Whipped until the skin of your back was raw and bloody. Placed inside horrific devices that would make you yearn for death.

The fire will be a mercy

Razor hadn't said anything, and with the way you held your head in your hands, you were too scared to look up, afraid that when you looked over to him again, you would find that he was gone, no longer interested in your particular set of unfortunate circumstances. Or perhaps he had never been there. Perhaps your mind had broken and you had made up a figure you could talk to, one who was willing to believe your side of the story and offer even the smallest bit of comfort but that the delusion was only able to go so far, only last so long before you realized what your mind was doing.

It was bitterly cold in that tower now, the many candles placed around the room doing nothing to keep you warm.

Then, above the sound of the rain, you heard movement in the room. That of someone climbing to their feet.

You didn't look up.

The footsteps you heard after were muffled by the way they stepped on the ruined gown and the other materials still strewn about the floor, but you heard the way someone came closer to you.

That someone then knelt down in front of you.

…. It sounded real. And you could sense that there was a person sitting in front of you, feel just how close they were to you.

Was Razor real? But if he was, why was he still here?

A large form suddenly overtook yours, and you gasped as two strong arms wrapped around your back and pulled you in close. Your head shot back up in time to see that it was Razor; he was still in here with you, and upon feeling his touch, you found that he wasn't any sort of hallucination. Without a word, he pulled you up from where you were curled against the wall and against his chest.

Razor was holding you.

Outside, the rain began to come down even harder, the sounds of the multitude of droplets descending from the heavens far more audible now on the stone tiles.

“Tell me,” Razor said, “what do you want?”

“… What I want? Why does that matter?” you asked.

“Because I'd like to hear.”

“Why?”

“Just tell me,” he said.

It was strange. Why was he interested in any of this? Why did he care enough about you to ask? What did he get out of it?

…. Who really cared if you were going to die soon?

Taking ahold of his shirt, you leaned your head against his chest as you answered “All I want is for them to not hurt me.”

Razor was quick to ask “and by 'them', you mean the inhabitants of this castle and the village beyond?”

You nodded.

“Say it aloud,” he ordered.

“Say what?”

“Say that you want me to save you from those people.”

“Why?”

“Because that's the only way I can save you.”

“….. You want to save me?”

“I do.”

Razor clutched you tighter as he continued with “so say it. Say that you want to be saved from all those who would wish you harm.”

Was that truly all it would take?

You questioned it in your mind for only a moment, as you were quickly reminded of what would happen once the guard came to collect you. Torture and death. Undignified, humiliating and painful. All before an uncaring crowd who only came to your execution so they could have an outlet for their anger at the previous tragedy or simply for the entertainment of watching you die.

You weren't going to go through that. You refused. You had done nothing wrong and you didn't deserve a fate like that.

“Please, Razor,” you whispered, “save me from all of them.”

The unexpected happened once again when Razor leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. But you were given no chance to question that as you heard when the rain outside manage to come down even harder.

Then came the sound of thunder, a deep rumbling that shook the very foundations of the tower you sat inside. It almost sounded like the growling of an animal. The winds were picking up as well, whistling past the castle and through the buildings of the village beyond, forcing open the doors and shutters that had not been properly bolted shut. In the distance, you could hear a single voice exclaim in surprise.

A lightning bolt struck.

One that was so close and so bright that you could see the light that came from it beneath the door of your cell. The thunder that accompanied it was even louder than the rumbling before, and you pulled your hands away from Razor's shirt to cover your ears while the entire building shook violently.

Even with the protection over your ears, you heard as the guard outside was startled awake as he fell from his seat, calling out in shock.

More voices called out in the distance, sounding less surprised and more frightened.

And then the hail came.

It started off the same way the rain had, falling innocently upon the roof. The small pellets bounced off harmlessly, clinking against the tiles. But just like the rain, they began to come down harder, and the longer they fell, the more of them began to batter against the roof with even more force.

The guard outside left his post, hurriedly running down the stairway.

The hail came down stronger still, and you unintentionally whimpered, the noises from the outside worrying you the longer they went on.

Razor spoke then.

“You'll be fine. Just wait for it to be over,” he told you.

Something crashed into the room.

You snapped your head over to where the sound had come from, only to find that several of the candles had gone out. The howling wind was easier to hear now, as was the ever present thunder. And, while it was harder to make out now, you thought you heard similar crashing noises coming from outside the door, as well as voices that screamed out in response.

More objects crashed into your cell, and within moments all of the candles had been snuffed out. Now you were in the dark, the only bit of light coming from the lighting that raced across the sky above the tower.

You kept your hands over your ears while you cowered against Razor. He continued to hold you, and you felt him shift around you, positioning himself so that he shielded you from the worst of the storm that got in through the holes in the roof.

In the chaos that the storm brought in and around the castle, it took you some time to notice that the figure you were huddling against seemed…. Different. The body positioned above you felt larger, the muscled arms felt stronger than before and at the ends of his fingers, you felt claws that lightly pressed into your skin through the fabric of your clothing.

Even though you knew you would see very little if you tried to look up at what exactly was shielding you, you kept your eyes squeezed shut, too afraid that you would see something you shouldn't.

How you eventually fell asleep during that ordeal you would never know.

Droplets of water landing on your cheek were what roused you from sleep, and while at first you mindlessly brushed them away, once you to fully regained consciousness you shot up into a sitting position, remembering the storm of the previous night while you took in the state of the room.

It was in shambles. Ruined fabric strewn everywhere, jewels and threads scattered about, the door now hanging open on one hinge and a multitude of holes punctured through the ceiling, allowing in the dripping water and small streams of sunlight. Many of the jewels had been broken to pieces, torn apart by some unknown force. And after moving a sheet of fabric that you noticed had a hole in it, you found that whatever had pierced it had also gone straight through the floor beneath it.

Yet you were unharmed, and currently you were laying on top of your unfinished projects, a few of the larger pieces sliding off of you that seemed to have been placed on top of you while you had been asleep.

….. You'd been asleep. And you had been that way for quite a while, judging by what you could see of the sun through the roof.

No one had come for you?

You then looked to the door, and then realized that what you were seeing was wrong. Why had it been left open? Who had wrenched it open in such a way that it had been damaged?

Where was the guard? Where was the lord and his wife?

Where was Razor? Not here, that was certain.

Quietly, you pulled yourself to your feet before you approached the open door, keeping your footsteps light as you tried to listen for anyone who might be coming your way.

You heard no one.

And after exiting your makeshift cell and finding your way to the stairs, you stopped when you came to a small window, looking out at the village beyond. Even with the distance, you could see that the village had sustained just as much damage as the castle, if not more. And perhaps it was only because of that distance, but you couldn't hear any activity coming from there. No sounds of any villagers either attempting repairs or to go on with their workday as best they could. All of it was silent except for the distant sound of the waves from the nearby sea.

You continued going down.

The first person you found was a guard at the bottom of the spiral stairway, stiffly splayed out at the bottom of the steps, weapon still in hand. You didn't need to get close to see that he was dead. When you saw him first you stopped, not wanting to get any closer. The markings you could see on his armor and body worried you. But if you wanted to leave the tower, you needed to step over him. After a few moments of gathering up your courage, you descended again. Once you got closer was when you discovered the cause of his death:

Holes.

Dozens of holes that ranged in size were all over that had punctured through his body. The majority of them had struck him in the back, though when you carefully stepped around him, you saw that there had been a few that had struck him up top through the head and shoulder. He'd been standing when he was first hit, and whatever had pierced him had continued to do so until the storm had ceased. No doubt he had been dead long before then.

The thought of 'what could cause such a thing' was a brief one – you quickly caught sight of the hailstones that still littered the ruined hall, and you noted a few that were colored red, matching the blood that had oozed out of the guard's puncture wounds.

The hail had been strong enough to pierce through the roof, you remembered. If it had no issue with that feat, it had no issue going through human flesh.

How many others had died?

You began to wander the halls, stepping over hailstones and pieces of the castle that had crumbled in the storm's wake. Soon enough you were stepping over bodies as well, all of whom were in a similar condition as the guard you had first seen. You found other guards. Then servants. Then nobles. You recognized two of the lordship's daughters, both huddled together beneath a barely upright table, their desperate attempt at shelter failing miserably as the hailstones slowly melted into the blood around them.

All of them with riddled with holes.

No one had survived. No one other than you.

…. You needed to leave.

If anyone from the outside discovered this scene and found you the sole survivor, you would be questioned as to how you of all people had lived. That ran the risk of receiving more accusations and death sentences if you couldn't come up with a good explanation. No, it was better to take whatever food you could find in the kitchens and then travel as far away as you could for a fresh start.

No one needed to know the truth.

You only payed attention to the structure of the castle from then, limiting your attention to the bodies of the dead to brief glances. Some of the damage to the walls had been extreme enough that you feared parts of them could come crumbling down. Even more reason to leave this place.

The kitchen wasn't hard to find, situated at the lowest level of the building. There were bodies within that room as well, but you kept your focus on the contents of the room, immediately going to scavenging for the food that was still edible. A loaf of bread and a few apples were quickly placed into a bag you found nearby that appeared to be in good shape, and you slung the bag over your shoulder as you began a search for water. You wanted to make as much distance between yourself and the castle, so you wanted enough food and water to last you for a few days. If all went well, you would have found somewhere else to stay by then. Where that would be exactly or what you would be doing, you had no clue, but you would deal with that when the time came.

Catching sight of the closed door of a storage room, you began to make your way there.

Only you noticed the body that lay just before it.

Another servant, this time a man, who had been filled with holes like the rest. Only the state this particular body was in was different from the others you had seen. Parts of him were missing. Specifically one of his arms and pieces of his legs that had been torn away. With the way the meat of his flesh had been torn off, it almost looked as though an animal had gotten to this one.

What sort of animal could devour an entire arm and leave nothing behind?

Something snapped in half behind the storage room door.

You took a few steps back as your attention was now there, listening as a sickening noise echoed within the confines of that room. Another snap like that of a bone, and then the sound of tearing, like tough meat being ripped apart. A loud chewing sound followed, accompanied by unearthly grunting. And then a crunching noise that followed sounded as though whatever was in there had just broken a bone with the strength of it's jaw alone.

…. There very well could have been the remains of some large animal within that room, one that had been hunted the day prior.

But taking another look at the man who lay in the middle of the kitchen floor and the state he was in, the missing arm and the state of his legs, and you found yourself having a hard time believing that whatever was in there was feasting on a mere animal.

Leave now.

Before it turns it's attention on you. The water can wait.

With that, you held tightly onto your bag of food as you turned and swiftly made your way to the door that lead outside. You'd taken hold of the handle and you were about to pull it open when-

Stop

A voice that reverberated in your head made you freeze, and despite your best efforts to break free, you were petrified to that spot, still tightly gripping the handle of the door that lead the way to freedom.

Why couldn't you move?

The door to the storage room creaked open and you felt your blood freeze, your breathing coming in heavy as you were certain that whatever that thing was that was now coming out was going to kill you-!

Instead of a beast-like creature that you anticipated charging at you, footsteps sounded against the floor. They were coming towards you and you felt an odd feeling of deja vu.

“Ready to leave, I see.”

You recognized that voice.

And as soon as those words were spoken, you had control of your body again, allowing you to look over your shoulder to the figure who now stood behind you.

It was Razor.

He smiled at you and placed a comforting hand upon your shoulder as he said “forgive me for leaving you by yourself like that. You seemed like you needed the rest and I thought I'd take a look around before we left.”

“…. Before we left?” you repeated, asking “I'm going with you?”

“It's a fair trade for saving your life, don't you think?” he asked in return.

You looked about the room again, focusing on the hail that had managed to make it's way down there and the bodies within that were just as battered as the ones on the levels above. Everyone within the castle was dead. And then you remembered that the village was in the same state, if not worse. At this point there seemed to be little doubt that anyone there had managed to survive.

“You did all this?” you asked. You felt the horror in your own expression, that Razor was capable of so much destruction.

He raised an eyebrow at you, asking “why do you care? These people would have happily killed you if not for me.”

He misunderstood what you meant, but you weren't given any chance to explain yourself as he wrapped a hand around your shoulder and pulled you close.

“I'll protect you,” Razor said, “and all you need to do in exchange is follow my every order. That doesn't sound bad, does it?”

His black eyes were staring down at you again. Staring at you, daring you to disagree with him.

Do what he wants, your mind told you. And since your voice currently couldn't work, you gave a small shake of your head to answer 'no', that it didn't sound bad.

The fact that you felt otherwise was besides the point.

Razor smiled at you, and the squeeze of your shoulder that accompanied that indicated that he was pleased with you.

“We should get going,” he then told you. He pulled you away from the door and took the handle, opening it for you. You wanted to ask where you were going, but you still couldn't find your voice. When he held the door open and looked at you, you followed his silent order and walked out the door, clutching the bag of food while you kept your gaze on the ground in front of you. Razor was soon leading you through the desecrated courtyard, making sure you were never too far away from him.

And as he took you through the castle gate, you wondered just what sort of future was in store for you. Your gaze went back to the man – spirit? Demon? – as you wondered what fate was in store for you now that Razor controlled it.

#reader insert #yandere x reader #razor x reader #yandere razor #hxh razor #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader

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spr1ngbunni · 6 months

Text

Stress Relief (William Afton x Reader)

☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼ ☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼ ☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼

Summary: Reader is stressed out as usual and William takes things into his own hands to relieve your stress.

Tags: nsfw, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, corruption, daddy kink, drugging (but the reader is into it LMAO), age regression if you squint, choking, multiple orgasms, creampie, breeding kink, toys, soft!dom!William, submissive!soft!reader

author’s note: AAAAAAA here’s my first William x Reader smut fic i’m a bit shy to post this tbh 🤧. This definitely isn’t for everyone as there’s some very self indulgent kinks but regardless I hope you enjoy!! Also no beta LETS GOOOOOO

Word count: 4k

You & William have been dating for a few weeks now, and you couldn't have asked for a better lover. He was the richest man in Hurricane, with an empire so great he could care for you, a whole family and more. His tall frame domineered in every room he was in. His usual bored, uninterested gaze always turned to one filled with love and admiration when pointed in your direction. William considered himself God, a man who created life itself, and every person in Hurricane was so much lesser than him, less smart, less powerful, less brilliant, except for you. You were his treasure, his most precious belonging. You belonged to him. Such a darling little thing for Mr. Afton.

You were always so kind to him, and he adored your sweet voice, kind eyes and he believed you to be absolutely ravishing. You had to be his, all his, and you took to his advances so well.

William had never loved like this before. Hell, he didn't even know a love like this could exist. William Afton was a whore, and despite this, his many partners in the past could never amount to how you made him feel.

Really there was nothing like it. He had remembered the first time he held you- you were a crying touch starved mess, and William’s gentle affection brought you to tears. And in his embrace sparked a unique, unforgettable and esoteric feeling. As you cried, you couldn't help but feel like a kid again, running to your Dad for comfort… and for William, he was a Father again, holding his newborn baby as they cried and cried. Gently rocking you in his arms to soothe your quivering, emotional self.

Since then the dynamics really shifted between you and William. Whereas he becomes more of a dom and caretaker than a traditional boyfriend. And you have loved it so much. Some people may say he was too controlling… But it was a comfort to you. You were always stressed, worrying about every little thing, and what kind of Daddy would he be if he didn’t help his baby bunny? So of course Daddy will help you out, pick out what you’re gonna wear for the day, what to eat… All he wanted was the best for his baby.

Which is why he made you a special little gift. You have been stressing out more than usual as of late, so William has taken the executive decision to remove every last bit of stress from you. And with this-

William held up a mechanical device underneath the blinding bulb of the overhead lamp sitting above his workbench. He inspected it for any imperfections. The device itself was sleek and smooth, a plastic outer shell, in the shape of an egg-like structure. The top had an opening, fit with soft smooth silicone. The opening was no more than a few inches deep, and at the base of the toy was a more phallic silicone object. All waterproof and skin safe of course.

William smiled at himself in self satisfaction. He had made great unbelievable advancements with his robotics, so certainly machines of this nature wouldn't be difficult for him to replicate.

Toys were no new thing for you and William, but it would be the first time he built one for you. Completely tailored to your body, your greatest weakest points all taken into account upon creation. To have William’s precious baby bunny come undone from his own creations, was an exhilarating thought. One that practically made his pants tighten at the mere thought.

After feeling satisfied with the aesthetics of it, William decided to try the power. A few second long press of the button and the little toy came to life. A soft humming resonated through the workshop, and William carefully examined the toy. Pressing the opening to his hand he smiled.

Just the right amount of vacuum pressure, vibration, and the pulsating inner core really tied it all together. His hand slid to the phallic object on the other end of the toy, wrapping around it tight, imagining his hand to be your inner core gripping onto it. He smiled once more as his hand ached, just knowing the thousands of nerve endings in your cute little pussy would be no match.

Yes this will do. This certainly will do.

It would take away his baby bunny’s stress but even their mind as well… Though this was no concern for William, you are his bunny after all, and that includes having ownership over your mind. He’ll take good care of it as he does you…

Though his little excursion didn't end there. Once the toy was all set he grabbed a miscellaneous dime bag, filled with crystalline substances and headed upstairs into the kitchen.

He loves his baby bunny he really does. And he’s so proud of them for working so hard. But his bunny works too hard sometimes, not knowing when to stop. Even he struggled to get his bunny to rest.. Some nights William had to physically pull you away from work and into bed… and with the amount of stress you’ve been harboring as of late… William wasn’t taking any chances! So of course he needed to take things into his own hands.

He was cooking dinner for you, and upon plating the servings did he make sure to incorporate a decent dose of the crystallized powder into your serving. He hummed in satisfaction and returned to waiting for your arrival.

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The familiar sound of the door locks unlatching brought upon William’s attention.

“I’m homee !” your voice called out, completely intertwined with stress and exhaustion.

Oh poor baby, you sounded so stressed..

William rushed over to greet you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing kisses all over.

“Welcome home Sweetie”

You giggled at the sensation of his beard and kisses tickling your face. You wrapped your arms around him tight as he showered you with his love.

William rubbed your back soothingly and gave you a gentle pat.

“Aww my poor baby…”, he cooed, running his hands through your hair soothingly.

“I can feel the tension in you…Why don't you let me take good care of you. I made dinner already so why don’t we get all cleaned up and eat hm?”

You pull yourself slightly away from him, not enough to fully separate yourself from him and nod.

“Yes.. that would be so nice” you respond, the sound of exhaustion in your voice apparent.

William hummed in satisfaction and scooped you up to head towards the bathroom. He turned the knob on the shower on and began to gingerly undress you, leaving gentle kisses on your bare skin whenever exposed. He really had to hold himself back from going overboard, there would be plenty of time for that later, but for now he just needed to care for his bunny a little bit.

Once declothed the both of you entered the shower, water now hot enough to your liking. You found yourself hugging Will again, feeling affectionate. The vague weariness in your limbs causing you to lean into him exhaustively.

“My poor baby, all stressed and tired” William squeezes you tight before running his hands down your body. He reached over for the soap to begin cleaning you, keeping you close.

Letting William bathe you like this was always so intimate and sweet. It really highlighted the more gentle side of himself. The way he worked was focused, methodical, similar to him cleaning his animatronics, and with that spark in his eye. That spark that said “This is mine”

Once clean, you both head to the kitchen to eat. You already feel so much better, the heat from the water and Will’s gentle affection soothing your body and mind.

You sat down at the table already feeling much better, and now noticing your hunger. Will returned from the kitchen with two plates of food, setting yours right in front of you.

“Aw Will, it’s so sweet of you to have cooked for us, its like you’re the housewife for a change” you joke, as Will cooking was rare. You tended to cook for the both of you like the sweet housewife you were to him.

Will chuckled in response “You’ll always be my little housewife bunny, plus, how could I not take care of my baby?”

You smile at his words and begin to eat.

“This is delicious! Thank you again Will” though you noticed something was off with the aftertaste. It was almost sour. Maybe William wasn’t the best cook but you paid no mind to it. You just pushed past it and continued to finish your plate.

“You don’t have to thank me bunny, I’m just taking care of you” he smiled.

As you finished your plate, you noticed the beginnings of a sensation pooling in your stomach. You could feel your head start to feel a bit hazy. It felt as if… something was kicking in? You shook your head, choosing to ignore it and finish your meal.

But the feelings only increased. Your vision shifted in and out of focus and you squirmed in your seat.

“What’s the matter?” William reached across the table and grasped your hand, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of it.

“I’m-I’m fine really, just a little dizzy” you go to stand up and thats when it really hits you.

You stumbled and Will was quick to catch you, getting up from his seat and headed towards you, wrapping you tight in his arms.

“Whoa there sweetie ! Be careful !”

“Aahh Will, I feel weird, like something is kicking in” You hold onto the man tight, feeling your head go more and more numb. The warm feelings increased and spread throughout your whole body. Being so close to Will and simply just touching him made it worse. Did being this close to him always feel this good?

His scent; cigarettes, cologne and a secret third thing that was just so purely William filled your senses as he held you close. And the tactile feeling of his soft shirt and warmth of his body was just so intoxicating.

“W…..Will, Did you drug the food…? I’m not mad… just wondering..” You nuzzle him affectionately and glance up at him with those sweet eyes of yours.

He smiles at you in return, petting you lovingly.

“Aww baby I had to! You were so stressed and upset I couldn’t just leave you like that… and you’re a very good bunny you always are.. but sometimes you don’t listen and won’t rest.. So Daddy needed to give you special medicine to help you relax is all. I just want the best for you”

You let out a soft whine as the drug continues to assault your system, and Will’s sweet words bounce around in your brain, registering purely as pleasure.

“Daddyyy… I love you Daddy… so good to me.. taking care of me like this”

You couldnt help but feel a rush of excitement over the situation. How Will loved you. Loved you so much he’d do anything to make you feel better. To even go as far as to drug you as a way to release you from your stress had your head spinning and your pussy throbbing.

“Now sweet bunny why don’t we get you to bed hm? So Daddy can help scrub away whatever stressful little things are left in that pretty head of yours”

William scooped you up once again and took you to the bedroom, making sure to leave a long kiss on your forehead, pouring all his love into it.

“There we are…. Now how are you feeling?”

Daddy sat on the bed as you lay next to him.

He gazed down at you, gently petting your hair, occasionally running his thumb across your cheek affectionately.

“Mm feeling all floaty… its nice…. want.. want Daddy closer” You reached out to him, wanting to hold him close.

“Of course darling” William moved across the bed to hold you tight, increasing his petting to your whole body. He ran his hands down your arms, your side, down your thighs and back up, repeating the motion, each time creeping closer and closer to your inner thighs.

All you could do was babble and whine as you regressed into a more docile and dumbed down version of yourself. High off the pleasure from the chemicals of the drug and your Daddy’s gentle touches and words.

William loved seeing you like this, all dumb and sweet for him. Seeing every last bit of stress leave your face, seeing you relax into him, unable to even form coherent sentences. He leaned down to kiss your face again, in between muttering words of praise.

“My bunny, so good for me”

You wriggled and whined, feeling increasingly needy as he continued. Eventually you couldn’t take it and captured his lips in a deep kiss.

Though you were the one who initiated the kiss, you were quickly put into submission as William took control, holding you firmly in place as he kissed you so deeply.

His hand dips in between your thighs as he lightly sucks on your tongue, rubbing gently over your clothed clit.

William smiled through the kiss and pressed his hand harder onto your cunt. He didnt move for a few seconds, but held his hand still, pressing into the dampening fabric. The firm pressure of his hand on your crotch made your head melt even further. Feeling the edges of your mind slip away as he continues rubbing you deeper into submission.

“Aww is my baby getting needy?”

You continue to make sweet noises for him, and he gently shushes and pets your hair, slipping his hand into your panties to touch you directly.

Your reaction is immediate.

You gasp out as your head spins. The feeling of his fingers on you is such a simple action, yet its breaking you apart.

“Such a good bunny for Daddy, taking pleasure so well” William kisses your forehead and removes his hand from your crotch and roughly pulls your panties down and off of your body. Then, he aligns his hips with your crotch and begins to grind against your bare cunt.

You can feel yourself soaking the front of his pants, the rough fabric and his hardening cock grinding into your overly sensitive pussy.

“Ddadddyyy too much ahhh—!” you cry out as he roughly ruts against you.

Your head still spinning you feel William grip your hips and push them against his, ignoring your cry.

“You’re all mine bunny, this cute little cunt of yours belongs to me ”

William wraps his arm around your waist and pushes you ever closer to him. His hips began to increase in pace as you start to cry out for him over and over. Leading into an explosive climax, you cum all over him, feeling a rush of wetness between the both of you.

William continues grinding into you, overstimulating you but not too much.

This was just the beginning, and he couldn’t get too carried away just yet. And look how cute you were, cumming all over his clothed hard crotch.

William kisses your forehead, and leans close to your ear and speaks lowly,

“Darling, I have a surprise for you,”

“Wha? Daddy?” You barely could register what he was saying to you, your mind melded with the drug and the overwhelming high of post orgasm bliss and overstimulation.

William reached into the nightstand to reveal a lewd looking object, clearly a sex toy that he himself had engineered.

“This is made especially for you my princess,” he leaned back over to you on the bed and started peppering your face with kisses.

Sliding his hand down your body he gently rubbed you again, and with his other hand clicked on the toy.

A humming vibrating noise filled the room along with your uneven breaths, your brain now registering just what he was talking about.

William went on to explain the toys functionality, in the same way he would go on about his own animatronic creations. Methodical and professional, his voice confident and unwavering as if he didn’t have a trembling little bunny beneath him.

“This here is for your clit. The opening is fit with soft silicone. I just know how sensitive you are there sweetie, its one of your weakest points and Daddy just can’t help but play with it hm?”

“When I place it on you,” William held the toy firmly against you,

“there’ll be a bit of vacuum suction and vibration of course, all meant to overwhelm your cute little clit with pleasure”

Before you even had the chance to respond William clicked the toy on, and your response was immediate.

“Dadddyyyyyy—!”

Your clit is sucked up gently into the toy exposing every sensitive nerve to devilish vibration.

Your hips jerk upwards and William pins you down firmly, pressing the toy ever so slightly harder into your supple flesh.

Its pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Your weakest point manipulated solely by your Daddy’s creation.

You writhe under his grasp, crying out broken moans and whines of “Daddy” fully melting underneath his assault directly on your clit. And it just keeps going.

It’s only seconds before you’re cumming again, and again, and again. Completely overwhelmed with continuous orgasms, your body unable to handle the newfound pleasure that has been bestowed upon you.

“Shhh sweetie its okay. Just keep cumming for Daddy alright?” William’s voice is sickeningly sweet, laced with lust as he continues pushing his creation harder onto your clit, upping the power even more.

“Too much Daddy— its too—!” tears slip out your eyes, completely overwhelmed with mind numbing pleasure.

“Aww my poor baby” William leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss to shush you, wiping away your tears. You can barely kiss him back, just crying out as he dominates your whole being completely.

After he pulls a few more orgasms out of you he finally puts the toy to rest. He kisses you deeply, his feverish movements now slow and intimate. He sets the toy aside and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body. He breaks his kiss with you and gently wipes your tears away. He then kisses down your body, leaving marks at your neck, down your chest, kissing softly on your tummy.

Once his face greets your overstimulated, swollen pussy he gently pushes a single digit into you. You’re tight, but due to your arousal and subsequent orgasms you’re cunt is more receptive to the intrusion.

He pushes his finger in and out slowly as you begin to whine again when his finger curls just right inside of you. He stretches you out slowly and fully, inserting another finger.

“Good bunny, taking my fingers so well”

Once he feels satisfied with his work, he reaches back for the toy, this time his attention on the other side of the object. He clicks on the button and teases your entrance with it. Your clit still buzzing and your head still melting, you cry out as you feel William push in the vibrator. Your walls clench against the vibrating toy, already feeling pleasure heat you up once again.

William wraps you into his arms and kisses you again as the toy assaults your insides.

At this point your head is mush, overwhelmed with so much bliss as Daddy cares for you. Every worry and every bit of stress you carried completely melting out of you. Your head lulls and William holds you up

“Don’t go out on me now sweetie, Daddy isn’t done with you yet. I still have to breed that tight little cunt of yours”

“Daddyyy please—-“

“Wanna feel you deep inside—!”

You whine out feeling your cunt overwhelmed with pleasure as the toy inside you continues to buzz. It feels so good but it isn’t Daddy. And you want Daddy’s thick cock and virile seed inside of you, desperately.

“No need to beg sweetheart Daddy’s got you” he pulls the toy out of you, then undoing his belt and fly, pulling his straining cock out his pants. He strokes himself a few times kissing the corners of your mouth as you gasp for breath.

He lines himself up with your heated core and slowly pushes himself in. Savoring the feeling of your tight heat with every inch.

“Biiiig stretch bunny” William completely sheaths himself inside of you, and you can feel your walls stretch to accommodate his large size. He’s much bigger than the toy so its quite the fit. You feel him snug against your cervix and you let out a drawn out moan as you’re completely filled with Daddy’s cock.

“Nggghhhh… so deep Daddy”

Slowly and firmly he presses even deeper before sliding out slightly. Sensually and gently fucking into you.

Your head spins, your breath quickens, your mind completely hazy as you take your Daddy’s cock so deep inside.

William presses his forehead against yours and intertwines his fingers with your trembling hands.

“My sweet baby bunny, you’re so good for me”

You can only moan in response, completely incoherent as the drug pulses through your veins and pleasure spreading from your cunt to your entire body.

William languidly fucks into you, wrapping his arms around you tight. He lifts your hips and pulls all the way out leaving your hole clenching on nothing for a brief second before he slams himself in again. This time rough and even deeper, practically bruising your cervix.

You cry out as William ruts into you at a rough pace, all his inhibitions gone. He loved toying with you, but he’s just been aching to be inside you all day.

“Ahh— Haah Daddyyy—!”

“Good bunny taking Daddy’s cock so well. Gonna breed you so fucking good”

William continues his brutal pace, bringing one of his hands to your throat and pressing down firmly. You gasp and squirm under his touch, bringing your hands to his, feeling the strength of his grip on your sensitive neck.

Your head becomes impossibly even hazier as Daddy presses his hand tighter onto your throat. You glance up at him and see nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. His precious bunny was being so good for him. Taking his cock so well while he choked you. He truly loved you so much.

Your hips lift up to take him as deep as possible, lewd wet sounds filling the room. Nothing but pleasure is coursing through your veins and in that pretty little head of yours.

“Look at my baby bunny, taking a proper fucking from Daddy, yeah?”

“Ahh- Haah fuck so good Daddy!”

William releases your throat from his grip and reaches over and grabs the toy again, pressing it on once more.

You gasp for air and once the sound of vibration hits your ears you feel yourself ache again.

“Daddy I can’t-“

before you even finish your sentence the toy is back on your clit, sucking and vibrating the oversensitive nub.

You cry out a broken scream as the sensations of being ruthlessly bred and your clit stimulated at the same time overwhelming your poor bunny brain as you cum all over again, clenching around William’s cock.

“Feels good doesn’t it princess?”

“Gonna fill your womb with my cum. Gonna make you a mommy” William groans out, watching your fucked out expression as he rams himself deep inside you.

Your mind goes nearly blank at the thought of carrying his child and William notices, and that look alone brings him to the edge. He curses as he feels himself spill inside you, thrusting and pushing his cum deep into your womb. He leans into the crook of your neck and groans as he feels you squeeze him so nicely.

“Such a nice hole for me to fuck…such a pretty womb all for Daddy to ruin”

“Mmm—! Daddyyy love you so muuuuch—!” You cry out, wrapping your arms around him tight, tears spilling out your eyes once more.

“Love you too bunny” William kisses you deeply, keeping eye contact with you as he does. You cum around his cock again, milking him for all he’s worth. He keeps lazily thrusting and sets the toy aside, settling on rubbing your sensitive nub in slow, soothing circles.

You continue to throb and clench around him involuntarily, softly panting in your post orgasm bliss.

“Mmm my pretty bunny”

William pets your hair softly, moving a strand out of your face.

You’re completely gone at this point, William having corrupted you completely and fully. Turning his sweet little stressed bunny into his pleasure filled fucktoy.

He kisses you again, gently and soft.

“Love you my sweet princess” he whispers, watching as you lose consciousness there in his arms.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #fnaf smut #my first time writing smut ajdjajdjsjsj #william afton invents the rose toy LMAO

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