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Graphic Depictions Of Violence Rape/Non-Con, Blood kink
The year was 1980. Pentagram city was as confusing and chaotic as it had always been. A lost doll wandered the streets. Her legs limped and her ball joints creaked. Her sepia colored, silicone skin had various scratches and scraps covering it. Her seashell colored hair was pinned up into a single Afro puff so it wouldn't get in the way of her vision. She had been in hell for a week and still struggled to remember who she was or how she got here. She knew only two things. She wasn't always a doll and her name was Marionette.
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hazbinhotel
انضم إلى أكبر مجتمع لرواية القصص في العالماحصل على توصيات قصص مخصّصة، احفظ قصصك المفضلة في مكتبتك، وقم بالتعليق والتصويت لتنمية مجتمعك.
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