#burning bones

[zelphafrost]

I dislike the phrase "living rent free in my head." It's dishonest. There may not be a monetary cost for these, but it's hardly free. It etches and scrapes at the bones, the soul, the heart. Branding thoughts onto the very essence of your being.

[spicedrobot]

Withers x Raphael. I trust Withers can make up for the fact that Raph is canonically bad in bed.

THIS HAS END GAME SPOILERS MENTIONED SO DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT RAPHAEL SPOILERS

(also this has spanking in it that wasn't discussed but raph is into it but he's angry about it LMFAO)

-

Raphael prepared for the next strike, determined not to make a sound. He had been successful thus far, but his resolve—previously thought unwavering—wavered. The blow came, just as the last. Hard and sure. His sealed lips caught the sound, barely.

“Thou art stubborn. Thy pride has outgrown its keeper many times over.”

Raphael’s face heated. Somehow, the ghoul’s words were worse than his strikes. Raphael struggled in the ancient one’s grip, but he was unable to break free, unable to barely wriggle. He went still, if only to save himself the shame of such senseless struggle. 

Again, the hand came down. The texture of it was leathery and somehow cool, though it had hit him many times. Raphael could feel the bones within. The bangles along his captor’s arm rang like prayer bells with each hit.

Raphael, fearsome, guileful, exquisite in every way, had been defeated by a group of ragtag mortals. Slain in his own home, in front of his souls and servants, betrayed even, by several of them. By all accounts, he shouldn’t be alive right now. But some devils are harder to kill than others, and his father had always been rather fond of him.

Not fond enough, however, to save him from the creature that had drawn his essence from the void, that had breathed life back into his body and swiftly deposited him over his lap.

Raphael didn’t even know how the ghoul was doing it. He appeared as nothing more than a bag of bones, possessed none of the stink of necrotic magic that animated most undead. Raphael should be able to reduce him to dust with a single glare. But the hand planted between his shoulder blades was enough to keep him pinned, face down, as easily as if he were a child. 

Another slap. Raphael jumped, ground his teeth together. His ass hurt, and not in the way he preferred. Haarlep had always been the perfect pet, followed every order to a ‘T’. This ghoul would not listen to him, had only chuckled a dry, raspy chuckle when Raphael had demanded to be released. 

“How lively. I had forgotten devils could be so.” The ghoul paused. “Though thou art not so fierce a creature in thy current state.”

Raphael had returned to the material plane naked and in the wrong form, his human disguise. This had also pleased the ghoul. Since thou conjured such a disguise to beguile, it is a most fitting appearance for thy punishment. 

The horrible situation was only intensifying. The hand came down. Raphael whimpered. It was quiet, but audible. The ghoul laughed, a smug, satisfied sound.

Raphael glowered, struggled, stilled. He cursed the True Souls in every language he knew—cursed the ghoul handling him with such unrelenting fervor. Raphael’s human body was weak; it could only take so much. The pain was exquisite, impossible to ignore—but it was also having an undesirable affect.

Raphael was stirring. His cock hardened against the ghoul’s clothed thigh. The ghoul’s lap was laughably uncomfortable compared to Haarlep’s, to his own, but his robes were impossibly soft with age, smoother than silk against his bare skin.

The next smack proved too great. Raphael yelped. Against sense, he shifted away from it, forced his cock into the ghoul’s thigh. The sensation choked him, pain-pleasure a vice in his mind.

His pleasure did not shake his captor. The ghoul hummed, considering. “Draped in thy disguise, thy nature still singeth true.” 

Raphael was weak. Powerless. Friendless. In the open air, beneath the moon-bright sky, anyone could venture upon him. The awful and wonderful Raphael, naked and at the mercy of something that looked like a mere ghoul—his backside a startling, cambion red. Raphael, helpless and shivering, his dripping cock making a mess of an undead’s robes. 

The pause between strikes shrunk. Raphael’s thoughts began to lose their edges. Mortification and pain, bliss and pleasure. He could not fight this creature, but to surrender was impossible.

The contradictions tore at him. Horrible. Euphoric. Raphael knew he could come like this, would come like this, eyes bright with tears, whimpering like a boy. 

Then, only then, when the temptation of surrender began to color everything, when the pleasure-pain heightened to a terrifying crescendo, did the ghoul cease. He lowered his hand, slow, unhurried, to Raphael’s backside. He pet the beaten, swollen flesh, as Raphael howled and squirmed.

“There, now. What use does punishment serve if one revels in it so eagerly?”

Raphael was beyond sense, his words lost. The ghoul only shushed him and stroked between his shoulders, ignoring his pleas as well as his cock that so desperately ground into his thigh.

“The night is young, child. If thou art made pleasant and kind, I shall offer them twice fold unto thee.”

Raphael buried his face in the ghoul’s robes. The tears shining in his eyelashes darkened the ancient fabric. Then, with a hiccuping sigh, his shoulders slumped, and he nodded. He relaxed into the ghoul’s hold. Gave in to his fate.

Withers smiled, pleased. And thus, the punishment began once more.

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Visit Original Link

Krokus - Burning Bones

[carryonbananas]

Impala...SPN...Baby...Dean

[BABYS ENGINE ROARS]

"No no no no no no...she possesses sex toys."

"This is not a sex toy!"

Fans:

"Haha yeah right Dean, don't kid yourself, 'Baby is not a sex toy!'...😉"

S06X14 - Mannequin 3 The Reckoning

[slrmagazine]

VCTMS Announce New EP "Pain Processing II" Out 5/1. #vctms @VCTMSIL

VCTMS Announce New EP "Pain Processing II" Out 5/1

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Mzzltvv is an emerging and mysterious pop artist and producer, whose mission is to create music that means something to her — with the hopes that it’ll meaning and life for others. Much like countless contemporary artists, Mzzltvv is genre agnostic, and enjoys jumping around genres and styles with a sense of exploration and curiosity. Their latest single “Burning Bones” is a slickly produced bit of synth pop built around glistening synth arpeggios, skittering thump and a blazing keytar solo that serves as a lush and club friendly bed for the artist’s soulful vocal delivery. While revealing an artist that seems to effortlessly craft a catchy hook, the song sonically recalls The Weeknd and 80s synth pop. The song as she explains embodies both her personal battles and her inner fire to succeed and evolve — and as a result, the song is part of a larger quest of self-discovery and strength in which every chord and beat is a step towards owning her truth. this is a slickly produced bop that sounds as though it were inspired by the likes of the weeknd and others. i dig this but i’d like to know more about the artist an the song. can you please send a press release?

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[lysendesteiner]

The metamorphosis is about to begin. Objective: kill the hamster. You have been turning and turning blindly inside the wheel for too long, stuck inside the inertia of a Ferris wheel. Everything is (and has been) an absurd repetition. Some species of insects, amphibians, molluscs, crustaceans, cnidarians and echinoderms undergo transformations. But you don't visualise jellyfish, frogs or butterflies in the time you spend collapsed on the sofa. You see a snake that bites its own tail forming a circle: the ouroboros, a circle circling within a circle; a symbol of senseless struggle, the cyclical nature of events and the impossibility of something new beginning despite all efforts.

— Miren Agur Meabe. Burning Bones

[lysendesteiner]

I have doubted a lot. Was it beauty or goodness? True or false? Should I go for it or should I give up? An unavoidable exercise: to doubt was to suffer for something. I still have the same attitude: to doubt is to suffer. And when I suffer, I become the protagonist.

— Miren Agur Meabe. Burning Bones