WHITTLED DUCK | Halsin X Reader
- Reads 33
- Votes 1
- Parts 1
MatureOngoing9m
Last published Sun, Dec 29, 2024
‟ Oak Father, hear me, aid me. Force the open the jaws of sleep. 〞
Words dissolve into your ears, enticing your wakefulness with regality and patience... comfort. Until the subterfuge of bile swallows the gallows of your throat. Burning. Expunging. The texture akin to porridge, emptying from your mouth as your body rises on instinct. Bunching over in obscene display of loosened jaw hackles, drawling in twines of spit. Your hand, gowned with beads of thick translucence; ' fuck ... ' you seethe, drawing to wipe at your mouth.
‟ Blessed be the Oak Father, child. You gave me quite the freight. I was worried you might have joined Silvanus all too soon. 〞
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