#but he literally looks like a rotting corpse

[mechanicalinfection]

So pancake satan, am I right??

[zkretchy]

my first actual thought about “cat who happens to possess you and is now a ghost(?)” was Gwent Not like Geralt is too happy about the accidental cheating happening but hey-can’t really block out the noise of someone inside your head now can you

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Zombie! MW2 w/ a Human Sex Slave

Warnings: 18+, Monster Fucking, Zombie Fucking, Implied Initial Dubious Consent, Stomach Swelling, Cum Inflation, Unprotected Sex, Brief Worry of Infection, Rough MW2, Gentle MW2, Zombie! MW2, Human! Reader, Sex Slave! Reader, Captive/Captor Relationship, Implied Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Descriptions of Smut, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Zombie! MW2 who found you scavenging alone one day out in the wasteland, entirely unaware of their presence.

Zombie! MW2 who capture you soon after, not ones to waste time.

You were the first lone human they’d seen in months, and they’d be damned if they were going to let you slip through their fingers.

Zombie! MW2 whose intentions with you are unclear. Until you notice the bulge in their trousers and the purr in their groans as they watch you writhe against the restraints, watch you helplessly struggle against a fate they’ve already decided for you.

Ghost, König and Soap are the roughest with you, often the ones to just tear a your pants off when they’re desperate, filling you not long after.

They’re rarely gentle, instead opting to take you raw and use you for their own ends, slamming their hips into yours until you hear them release a guttural roar, emptying days’ worth of semen inside you.

Your first time with Ghost almost left you feeling like you were about to burst with how backed-up he was, his balls almost bursting and slapping the skin of your backside red and raw with each thrust.

He’d made sure to leave his mark on you, the prominent bulge in your stomach slowly deflating as his semen leaked out of you.

And while Soap and Ghost’s loads are somewhat palatable given how frequently they use you, König almost always leaves you feeling like you’re about to burst.

Given his height, he’s the biggest of all your captors. Not only that, but his cock is thick enough to leave you feeling like you have rocks in your stomach whenever he forces himself into you, his strokes long and pounding, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Price, Gaz and Alejandro are a lot more gentle, understanding that, while you’re human, you’re still fragile.

They’re soft and slow with their thrusts, giving you time to adjust to their size before continuing.

While they can’t talk, they do try to comfort to as best they can.

They’ll stroke your head, press their forehead to your shoulder (only to feel you tense beneath them, anticipating a bite) — anything to try and make you feel less like you’re a sex slave and more like a friend with benefits.

Of course, you worried the first few times they had their way with you that their pumping you full of their seed would infect you, turn you into one of them.

However, after weeks went by, you were still you. No rotting skin, no cannibalistic thoughts, no loss of autonomy.

But, much to your horror, you felt as if they’d infected you with an idea, a feeling.

That being that you enjoyed what they were doing to you, ravaging you, pumping you full of their load until they were satisfied and your stomach was swelling.

And while your sanity tried to reason your way through your acceptance — that you were being held prisoner by literal parasite-infested corpses — your mind, for better or worse, didn’t care.

Not when they were providing for you, bringing you food, clothes, blankets — things you were certain would be nigh impossible to obtain were you roughing it alone in the wastes.

Or, perhaps you were rationalising your willingness to stay here with them, to live as their human sperm bank, reduced to an existence of bending to the will of militant captors whose semen dripped down your thighs, whose hands forced your face into pillows or made you bounce on their cocks while looking at them, giving you a glimpse into their eyes, the people they once perhaps were: whose surprising stamina and strength left you whining, crying and almost begging for more whenever they finished, more often than not forcing orgasms out of you, too, making you push back into them, body willing to take every ounce of their cum and inch of their cocks.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[the-xolotl]

A Taste of Darkness Itself

Alastor x fem!Reader x His Shadow

ᯓღ Filthy one-shot of Alastor’s shadow railing reader.

ᯓღ a/n: i have been rotting on this idea for like literal weeks and i finally had the willpower to write it. idk how it got to 3.5k but it did. ENJOY !

SUMMARY: You hate being away from Alastor, but at least the silver lining is that Al’s shadow is nice company while he’s away. Today, though, it was a little more needy than usual.

ᯓღ CW: biting, licking, belly bulging, slight voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism, slight dub-con, no use of y/n, fem reader, size kink, monster fucking?, some aftercare, squirting, overstimulation, cumflation.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IN SIGHT. Thank you~

Waking up without Alastor is always a bummer; turning over to find a cold, empty spot where your lover should be have been isn’t a great way to start the morning. Being understanding of how busy he is and that sometimes this Overlord duties take him away from the hotel and essentially from you doesn’t take away from how much you dislike it. At least when he had trips to the other side of the pentagram he often left his shadow behind to look after you and keep you company.

The shadow you had affectionately named Shade often attempted to keep you entertained or went with you about your day. Shade has always been pretty docile with you, at least when you are in his care. Sometimes you wonder if it’s capable of its own feelings or if Shade is only nice to you because Alastor tells it to, or because being part of Alastor means he also loves you somehow. You’ve never discussed it with your lover but you like to think it’s the former simply because it makes it more special and cute.

Today, especially, you think about how that works because Shade had been especially clingy and… a little needy. In a way, as clingy as a being that can’t talk or isn’t really tangible can be but he keeps distracting you by making you pay attention to it; showing you little trinkets (don’t have the slightest idea where it got them), turning on the nearest radio to play smooth jazz to dance to. It took your shadow’s hand to twirl you around and dip you down or wrap itself around your shadow.

“You’re acting like me when I’m being clingy with Alastor,” you giggle, petting the top of its transparent head. You get the sensation that it leans into your touch even when you’re not really touching it. Shade has its charm, the shadow is definitely sentient and thinks on its own outside of Alastor’s orders.

You start retracting your hand but Shade snatches it with a somewhat tight grip, something it doesn’t really ever do. “What’s wrong?” your voice filled with a mix of concern and confusion. His expression is indiscernible with a wide grin still edged on its flat features and being that it can’t speak you can’t expect a response either. However, your confusion turns to absolute bewilderment when Shade intertwines your fingers together with it, actually seeing and feeling a cold touch wrapped around your hand.

It sent a shiver down your spine, it was like touching a corpse; cold and clammy. Slowly, Shade emerged from the wall. It’s a little funny the way it looks like a sentient sticker pealing itself off a flat surface but as it left the wall of Alastor’s bedroom its form changed into something akin to materialized dark matter. Not quite slimy or gooey but also not entirely gaseous; just pure darkness in the silhouette of Alastor and just as tall.

Shade is still holding your hand and not letting you go, smile even wider, one that reaches the blank holes of his eyes. While it didn’t feel menacing it’s off-putting seeing and being grabbed by a tangible shadow. You’re looking up at it with wide eyes, blinking owlishly, “Shade…?” your voice cracked. Again, you weren’t scared but very shocked as it had never shown you this form before. Shade draws closer to you excitedly, enveloping your entire body in its chill embrace. “Oh, oh you’re cold,” you laughed nervously, “Since when can you— Oof,” you’re caught off by Shade lifting you up and taking you to Alastor’s bed in a blink of an eye. Even more confused and a little concerned now you attempt to free yourself from his grasp but it only tightens as Shade nuzzles its face against your cheek and neck.

“A-Alright buddy, haha. What are you doing there?” Shade is harmless, and there’s no doubt in your mind it would hurt you. Not with Alastor being his master and you being the love of its master’s life. It’s an odd sensation having the manifestation of darkness pinning you down onto the bed with a bit of rough force. Even still, you can’t help but be endeared by the affection the creature is giving you.

It’s innocent enough until you feel ghostly lips pressed against your neck, trailing up to your jawline and then to your cheek and stopping at the corner of your mouth. You’re frozen for a few moments, eyes wide, and you swear you hear a record scratch. “Shade…?” you whisper again but it doesn’t move. You hear it make a noise that sounds like a laugh or a chuckle. It’s something between radio static and demonic growls. Before you have another moment to process, the shadow is stealing your lips again in a hungry kiss.

You surprise yourself by returning it but are unable to keep up as Shade robs you of all the air in your lungs rather quickly as the kiss deepens. It’s heated and has you gasping for air soon. You have to fight to breathe between the savage kisses it seems to not get enough of. The darkness of its lower body starts wrapping around your thighs parting them to better accommodate itself between them.

Gasping you pull away from the desperate lips to finally fill your lungs with proper oxygen with big gasps. Icy fingers travel up your thighs digging its sharp claws and making you hiss. “Shade!” you yelp its name when it decided to shove its entire hand up your skirt and past your panties to give experimental rubs at your pussy. You arched and squirmed under its touch as he watched your reactions with rapt enthusiasm and attention. Heat begins to creep up your face, red dusting your cheeks in embarrassment. But you can’t help your hips bucking into its chill touch, “More,” you moan.

Shade tilts its head to the side, the holes of his eyes still boring into your face. You nod at it, breathing heavily, and grinding your hips up again, “Please, more,” you mewl again enjoying the contrast in temperature between your warm folds and the coldness of its slender fingers.

Shade presses further then, rubbing your folds up and down, your pussy is quickly becoming increasingly wet under its attention. The shadow lets you grind against its fingers, occasionally rubbing at your erect clit. Soft moans and heavy breaths spill from your lips as you let the sentient being have its way with you. His mouth returns to your skin to kiss and nip at it creating a path of blooming red marks across your collarbone and chest.

Once your juices are practically dripping down to the sheets, Shade decided to dip in two fingers. It’s a tight fit that has your back arching and eyes rolling back but you welcome them spreading your legs even further inviting it in. He makes what you can only assume is a pleased low, reverberating growl. Your soaked cunt makes it much easier to slide them in despite the resistance, and oh how or where did this being of darkness and magic learn how to finger fuck so good?

Even with the frosty presence over your entire body, you feel the temperature rising around you, the room quickly growing hot and stuffy. You needed out of your clothes, except Shade still hadn’t let go of your hands yet, it held them up with one of his as he devoured the rest of your body with love bites and kisses. “Shade— Clothes, off. I need—” and just like that your clothes went up in smoke leaving you completely naked and more of your body exposed to the shadow’s hungry eyes. Its eye travels over your every curve, mapping its ups and downs, every groove. Finally, its hand releases your wrist in favor of touching your skin, especially your plush chest. It grabbed and squeezed at your tits feeling the size and weight of them. The contrast of the heat of your skin felt delightful against his cold one.

Shade pinched at your nipple, tugging it earning more moans and pleas. You’re losing yourself bit by bit, succumbing to the pleasure not even thinking about the consequences—would there be consequences?— you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “C’mere,” you whimper, a hand coming up to cup the side of his head and guiding him down to eye level with your chest. Shade didn’t resist and went down willingly, “Suck,” keeping its eyes on your face he obeyed willingly taking the hardened bud in its mouth sucking and digging little sharp teeth into the soft flesh. Meanwhile, his other hand hadn’t stopped, in fact, its fingers sped up in scissoring motions to coax your cunt open. Both your hands are on his head now holding on for dear life while you allow it to take you however it likes. And maybe you didn’t have a choice, you aren’t really calling the shots, but it didn’t matter. Not when you can feel your first orgasm building in your core.

Shade is oddly good at pleasuring you, in the back of your head you still wonder how, a morbid part of you think it’s from it possibly watching the way Alastor touched you. It’s then the fleeting thoughts of missing your boyfriend float momentarily in your lust-ridden mind. As your moans got more frequent and louder, your fingers digging harder into the shadow you felt yourself an inch away from coming. You cum with a scream and your orgasm wrecks through your entire body but Shade doesn’t miss a beat. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t pause. The shadow continues to assault your g-spot while he alternates between biting and sucking at your breasts, even planting its palm against your clit while it continues to finger you to add even more stimulation.

Your body is shaking uncontrollably and the only thing keeping you in place is its grasp over your body. “Fuck me, please fuck me. I can’t take it anymore, fuck. I need your cock inside me,” voice desperate, as if your livelihood and sanity depend on being stuffed. You didn’t have to wait long for that request to be fulfilled either. The removal of his fingers from your wet pussy had you whining and clenching around nothing but almost as soon as they were gone they were replaced by something bigger pressing into you.

A tendril is teased along your folds with curiosity, as if copying movements and your suspicions that Shade is following Alastor’s actions in bed click subconsciously in your head. However, you’re too busy focusing on the tentacle between your legs now pressing its way inside you. Shade makes a noise and radio static spreads across the room, it makes a whiny sound along with your loud moan at the feeling of the thick length stretching you out. Your nails made their way to its back scratching at pitch darkness.

“Shade, don’t—” you tried to warn it to be gentle but it was too late. The shadow followed the tight heat of your dripping pussy and sheathed itself in one thrust making you cry and scream out. Tears slide down your cheeks, your body trembling already, writhing and trying to pull away from the fat tendril penetrating you. But it wouldn’t allow you, Shade only pinned you harder against the mattress with shadow tentacles and lifted your hips up to begin thrusting into you.

The shadow clearly had never done this before, given the sloppy way it’s thrusting into you with little rhythm but, it’s hard and it’s intense. The radio static buzzed across your skin rising goosebumps, Shade’s own moans increased; they sounded deliciously demonic. It picked up the pace before you even had time to adjust, “S-Slow down, too much,” but it didn’t listen. The restraints only got tighter, Shade didn’t mean to but it’s losing itself to the immense pleasure your body is giving it. The shadow continued to lick and bite anywhere it could, adding claws to the mix; its hand began to roam across your curves committing them to memory and dragging sharp nails that nearly broke skin anywhere it touched.

You felt Shade all around you overwhelming your senses and caging you on the bed. There’s no escape, not that you wanted to really, the mischievous shadow has you screaming and moaning its name wantonly. Despite begging it to slow down the pace you’re still wrapping your legs around its shadowy torso brining him closer to you.

“Kiss me, Shade. Kiss me again.” you plea between sobs of ecstasy. Its mouth leaves your tummy where it had been passionately sucking hickeys to comply with your request. It’s hot and heavy with a long tongue prodding your mouth, moaning loudly you enthusiastically accept the ravenous kiss. Shade’s hand in the meantime takes purchase on your hips for the purpose of guiding you up and down its cock and using your body as a life-size flesh-light. The shadow is still hammering into you and bullying your cervix with every rock of its hips, being mean about it by pulling all the way to the tip just to slam you back down for your ass to meet its hips.

You’re unsure how many times you’ve cum by now, it’s certainly been a couple times but you’ve been completely unaware because your mind is on cloud nine and the difference between pain and pleasure has been blurred. Right then, a particularly hard thrust straight into your sensitive bundle of nerves makes your body go limp, mouth hung open in a silent scream, no sound coming out but your body convulses within the dark grasp of its massive hand. Your eyes had rolled back so far only the whites of your eyes were visible and you swear you died again right then. Shade’s pace didn’t falter, fucking you straight into overstimulation, fucking you dumb, drool dripped from your agape mouth.

Shade is becoming increasingly feral with his ministrations, you’re to the point where you can’t hold a single thought for more than a second, not being helped by Shade maneuvering your body to turn you over so your chest is being pressed against the mattress and your ass is high up in the air. It doesn’t miss a beat thrusting into your spent cunt to continue right where it left off. Its pace doesn’t falter for a second no matter how arduous it’s been fucking into you and you’re not better than a rag-doll being used for the shadow’s pleasure. Your throat is raw and sore from all the screams, moans, and whines.

You’re tired, possibly nearly unconscious, and completely drunk in pleasure. Pleas of mercy have turned to begs of more, don’t stop, harder over and over like a desperate prayer. Even your cheeks are raw from the tears, every little caress makes them sting but you take it. Your hips are pushing back against its cock, off rhythm but the effort is there. There’s no matching the shadow’s inhuman pace even if your stamina could. Barely. Shade tangled a shadowy hand in your hair to press your head into the sheets, using its weight to cage you down.

You feel its long, icy tongue lick a path from the bottom of your spine all the way up the nape of your neck, tasting the coat of sweat over your body. It sends a full body shiver and for once you actually feel yourself cum. Sinking further into the mattress your hands cling onto the sheets tightly, “Shade, no more, no more please!” you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse, barely audible. The lewd, squelching sound bounced off the walls, and the sounds of your bodies rang loud in your ears making the blush of your face an even brighter red. Its thrust is brutal and unrelenting. It’s beyond you how you can withstand being split open by such a beast without breaking. It seems to obey you for the first time since it started having its way with you body.

However, in the next moment, it’s pulling your hair to bring up against his chest. Leaning back against the headboard and laying your back against him with its cock still nuzzled deep inside you. You look down to assess the damage, your tired eyes go wide seeing all the bloody bites and scattered bruises, there are finger pricks around your hips and thighs where he gripped you. The thing that really draws your attention is the prominent bulge in your tummy and the sheer size of the stretch of your hole. There’s cum and juices dripping down to your and Shade’s thighs too. You relax into the embrace, exhausted even if you’re still being made to cock-warm it, at least it’s no longer moving; you’re far too overstimulated and doubt you could handle any more.

The Shadow, though, had other plans. Shade appears to have infinite stamina already grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you up and down his girthy length. You have neither the will nor the strength to combat it, only tightening around it and holding on to its forearms for dear stability. Shade used its tongue to lick away stray tears as one of its ghostly hands pressed on the bulge on your belly. It made you yelp, every inch dragging along your inside felt like your insides were on fire. Your eyes are fixed on where its cock disappeared inside you mesmerized by the way it parted your folds and your body accommodates it. “S-Shit you’re— so fucking big.” your voice is small, pathetic, barely audible. But your hips are still moving, you’re still ready to cum for the umpteenth time today.

Head swims with lust, you’re reaching highs of rapture you never thought possible; Shade has pushed you to your absolute limits miraculously without breaking you. It growls again, louder this time, and its hold on you clamps down like a vice. It makes you wince in pain before you feel a hot liquid spill and cover your insides. It came, finally, triggering your own orgasm with a shrill scream. You squirt involuntarily just from the overstimulation alone. The sheets soak and make a huge mess from the spray of juices, making a mess on your own legs, and Shade’s as well. This time it actually stops thrusting now that it has reached its release but doesn’t pull out, you lay there completely limb in his arms. It goes back to nuzzling your face sweetly, making a purring sound, and caressing your stomach softly. You could barely keep your eyes open at this point from sheer exhaustion.

Hearing a familiar voice yanks you out of your blissful trance, “I see you have been quite busy today, my dear.” A silky smooth voice resonates across the room making your head whip around to find the source. Alastor steps out of the shadows with a wide, wicked smile. You try to find your words but it’s futile. You’re too far gone and there’s no way you’re able to speak now. However, Alastor doesn’t press further, nor does he comment on the cuddling. He knew already, of course. For now, he’d let you rest and have a stern talk with his shadow later. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hmm?” he offered with a soft voice and a gentle hand. Shade lifted you into his arms and disappeared back into the shadows suddenly leaving you feeling empty and copious amounts of cum spilled from your pussy, making you wince and grimace. Alastor stayed silent as he carried you to the bath, running warm water before easing you in.

“I missed you today.” were the first words you managed to croak out. Your throat is still fucked, it likely would be for some time. Alastor is careful cleaning your body and rolling up his sleeves to be able to wash your hair. You’re not quite meeting his gaze, which he found amusing.

“Did you now? You seemed a little preoccupied when I came back— In fact you didn’t even notice when I had arrived.” the lilt in his voice is teasing, you can hear a chuckle.

You groan softly, “You watched?” you ask with embarrassment written all over your face. He silently continues to massage the shampoo into your hair without answering the question. You didn’t know what made it worse; the silent confirmation or if he had admitted to watching you get absolutely wrecked by his shadow.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll have my turn with you and you can have the real thing. See how you manage then.”

Your thighs clenched at his statement. Your whole body ached painfully, there’s no way you’ll be partaking in any strenuous activities for at least a week; there’s no way you’re walking for a couple days either. Alastor chuckled at how easily he could rile you up even after getting absolutely destroyed by a demonic entity.

“Just so you know, me and that shadow are connected,” he brought the shower head to rinse the shampoo off, “It’s a part of me, its thoughts are my thoughts, what it feels I feel.” It almost seems like an offhanded piece of information but this makes you realize something. Shame, embarrassment, and horror make your body stiffen.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[visenyaism]

tyrannical king maegor dashboard simulator

🐉queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her nephew the King Aenys I Targaryen. Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has returned to the capital to claim his father’s throne.

💫 sevensent Follow

crusty incest king died. FLOP!

💫 sevensent Follow

wait MAEGOR?

🥔 bowlofbrown

this job fucking sucks. finished my shift and i cant even clock out because i got lost underneath the site.

#dark as shit down here #never working construction again

💌 maidens-smile Follow

i literally cannot believe how many supporters of m*egor i see on my dashboard every day when he is literally flaying and torturing so many seven-blessed poor fellows just for practicing their religion and saying incest is bad??? he’s literally outside my city waiting to burn us all to death DNI if you support him

🪨 dragonstoner Follow

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived the High Septon. He previously denounced King Maegor and his wives as “the abomination and his whores,” and passed shortly after Dowager Queen Visenya and King Maegor flew their dragons to the gates of Oldtown and threatened to burn the Starry Sept.

🪽 maegors-wins Follow

i for one think “the cruel” is a bit unfair given how he has done so much to uplift women’s voices and free us from religious tyranny like. named the first female heir in westerosi history? improving the infrastructure in king’s landing? decentralizing the power of the faith? he literally loves gay people so much he married three of them?

🦓 zorse-deactivated7849

op what does that eleven inch necromantic targaryen dick feel like because if you keep riding that hard I’m pretty sure it’ll rot off

🔮 tyanna

in seven days you will begin to cough

#twelve. btw

🐉 queen-visenya--outlives

Dowager Queen Visenya Targaryen has outlived her great-nephew Aegon Targaryen, henceforth to be known as “The Uncrowned.” Her son King Maegor I Targaryen has slain him and his dragon Quicksilver over the gods’ eye for trying to usurp his throne.

🌞 ullerihardlyknowher Follow

why is this always how i find out how do you know this before even cravings moste popular

#also what the fuck is going on up there

🪰 florian-and-jonquil-on-nymerias-ship Follow

guys the oversexualization of king maegor is so problematic and insane considering he’s not only shy and married as a 13 year old but also is literally neurodivergent (has CTE)

🤲 aegonfort-top

🤲 aegonfort-top

lost my left hand for posting this

#it was kind of hot though

🗣️ towerstower Follow

was not into targaryen rule at all but if we are going to do it it’s kind of fun that we are being ruled by a super powered animated blood corpse and his circle of freaky bisexual witches and also his mommy instead of like. a normie who also fucks his sister

🫀 imasharpknife Follow

seven hells you people would fuck a k*nslayer if they had valyrian silver hair

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

during these trying times when our king is accused of depravity and tyrannies abound throughout the land we must remember the most important truth: the brackens are still a people spawned from the lowest of the seven hells

🐎 brackennation

KILL YOURSELF. Lord Gonzo Tully himself AS YOU KNOW literallyyyyyy gave us the right to move the boundary stones over the tributary. but i wouldn’t expect a blackwood to acknowledge basic laws and rights you’re just too busy doing blood sacrifices to your nasty heathen tree god.

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

as soon as i figure out why balerion is overhead rn im coming over to kill you. btw

🐎 brackennation

wait looks like he’s headed towards harrentown

🐦‍⬛ raventooth Follow

oh cool. KILL YOURSELF

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

hi guys!!! sorry i’m a sennight late posting this, my brother got killed and then one of my other brothers got tortured to death and then my great-aunt died and i ended up having to flee dragonstone for storm’s end and it was kind of scary lol. anyways here’s the update as promised!!!

🌟 maidensgrace Follow

i wish Balerion did get you RPF is literally soooooo problematic. look to your sins op

#daenys the dreamer and nymeria weren’t even alive at the same time????

❤️ lanadelrhaena

i think you did a great job. glad you’re safe xx

💐 floriansfool36 Follow

YOU HAVE INTERNET IN THE KEEP???? HIIIII

[heartsforhavik]

superfan! and stalker! yandere boys x reader hcs (but they're animal hybrids)

✰ warnings: obsessiveness, sfw, murder, mentions of corpses, just overall unhealthy behavior cuz they're yanderes. (i do not condone yanderes irl and this is for writing purposes) gender neutral reader, no use of y/n.

✰ a/n: guys idk why i havent updated in so long. ig i just havent had much motivation?? anyways ummm i'm still super busy right now and i have 400 assignments due in 3 days but i don't wanna do them soooooo how about i write some short and cute headcanons for y'all? 😁

if bayani was a puppy hybrid...

clingy clingy CLINGY

bros going wherever you go. even if u gotta take a piss he's gonna hold your hand. wait, you don't want him in the bathroom with you? at least let him sit outside!

he is very easy to distract, though. if you ever want to be alone for a while but he just won't leave your side, throw a tennis ball somewhere and it should keep him busy for a solid 10 minutes.

loves snuggling with you. he literally distracts you and takes up at LEAST one hour every morning trying to keep you in bed with him. if you leave him alone in bed, he'll be whining until you come back.

he's also very talkative, and always yapping your ear off about random nonsense, until you tell him to shut up. problem is, if you tell him to shut up, he isn't going to open his mouth again for a few days. he'll be very sulky about it and look up at you with those big puppy dog eyes of his, silently hoping you'll allow him to speak again. as much as he loves hearing you yell at him, he still doesn't want you to be mad at him for long periods of time.

he'll eat anything you cook. you could be the worst cook in the world and burn your dish to a crisp, and he'd still eat it up like it's nobody's business. he doesn't even notice if it's well cooked or not, he sees anything you create as a masterpiece.

but this also means he's like a guard dog! even though he is quite small and his face isn't very intimidating, he tries! he goes to the gym frequently so he can be stronger for you. he wants to be able to defend you if anything goes wrong.

he is very patient. if you have any work or assignments you need to get done, he'll sit and wait however long you need him to. he'll even bring you beverages and snacks so you can keep working without getting up.

overall, he has some similar traits to a puppy, but he's still the same optimistic (and obsessive) bayani.

if victor was a cat hybrid...

LMFAOOO good luck getting away from him.

bros a silent killer. he watches from afar. if you happen to feel his eyes staring at the back of your head, and you look to see if your feeling is correct, he'll snap his head the other direction so you don't suspect a thing.

he follows you around, but unlike bayani, he wouldn't stop if you asked him to. and he isn't in your personal space, he is much farther away so it's harder to tell when he's tailing after you.

and like a cat, he proudly brings you dead things and is convinced that you would like it. usually he kills anyone that seems to be too close to you, and shows it off like a trophy of his affection and strength.

victor would kill someone and be like: "this week's new corpse looks awesome. they'll totally love this, i gotta show them!" (you did not, in fact, love seeing the rotting corpse of your friend on your doorstep.)

he guards your house as if he's a soldier at war. if he sees anyone break in, or if it's an insect that happened to fly in through your vents, he'll eliminate the threat before you even notice it.

he's also quite moody. sometimes he's affectionate and kind to you, then the next minute he'll act like a brat and expect you to cook and clean for him.

and if you called him out on his behavior, he'll act all pouty and mutter: "i don't do that.." then he'd get up and silently do some chores around the house as an apology. if you brought up his acts of service, he'll get flustered and say you were "too lazy to do it yourself" or something along those lines.

overall, he's quiet, moody, and does things his own way. unlike bayani, victor doesn't do anything you ask him to do, but he still shows his affection for you in his own subtle ways.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 6

masterpost

“Have you experienced events that could be described as fatal?” Danny read from his notebook. Before Jason could answer he continued, “Do you know the name and species of all your progenitors? Have you ever wondered if you are-” 

Jason held a hand up to ask for silence. He was in the zone on a training module that Barbie had sent to the whole team. He was not going to get any more shit from fucking Tim and Stephanie about being an out of touch old man like Bruce who ran code directly from the 90s.

Danny cut himself off to wait. Without looking up, Jason could see some kind of bouncing movement that had to be Danny fidgeting. “You’re early,” Jason eventually said. He shut the program that he’d been running and then blinked his full attention over to his date. “It’s not- is it 5 already?” He blinked away the gumminess in his eyes and checked the time. 

Danny flushed a little green. His freckles glowed a little whiter in contrast. “No, it’s 4:30,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, left work a little early.” He floated up and then abruptly over into a flip. Like an antsy mermaid. Jason leaned back and watched, fascinated by how easy movement looked on Danny. It was the way he’d used to see Dick, but now he knew how hard Dick’s easy mobility was earned.

“You don’t feel gravity at all, do you?” He confirmed, envious and charmed. 

“Uhh.. Can’t say that I do,” Danny admitted. He shrugged. “Not like this, anyway. I do in my human body, obviously.”

“Is that literally-” Jason cut himself off with a mortified flush. Holy shit. You can’t just ask someone if they have a magical transformation into their own corpse. Insensitive much?

Danny gave him a knowing look but gracefully ignored the question. “Anyway. Do you remember what I asked earlier?” He cocked his head to the side and full body wiggled. “I had Frostbite help me write them out. Undead health isn’t really my area, but he knows everything that’s ever been known, which is pretty cool.”

“Uh…” Jason thought back. “I told you when we were eating that I died once,” he reminded Danny with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s an easy yes.”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know how serious you were or if you were describing something extremely short term like needing afib or something longer term-”

“Dead, buried, in the ground for months,” Jason admitted. “Presumably rotted, but I came back to myself with living human physiology, if extremely damaged from what killed me.” It was really gross to think about. It was also impossible to totally avoid. There should have been no coming back from all the blood drying up and shit.

Danny stared at him with an open mouth for a few seconds. Long enough that Jason fidgeted, uncomfortable.

“That’s the most metal shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Danny said reverentially. “That’s so nasty, man. You rotted? Does this make me more of a necrophiliac than you?”

Jason choked on his own spit.

Danny did another flip.

“My parents were definitely human,” Jason managed, voice strangled. Best to get this back on topic. “I know for sure. I’ve met them both.”

Danny blew a raspberry. “It’s not always obvious,” he pointed out 

“Anything that would show up on Batman’s DNA analysis can be ruled out,” Jason corrected himself. “And neither of them had any non-human capabilities. Died from things that a Tamaraean or Kryptonian would be able to get out of.” 

“...Oddly specific species mentions,” Danny said. A line formed between his brows. His toes touched down to earth and he crossed his arms. “You… I wasn’t thinking of that type of non-human.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that, you touched Wolf.”

“And a Kryptonisn wouldn’t be able to?” Jason asked a bit dryly. He didn’t understand the logic.

“Not unless they were really juicy with death,” Danny said in a weirdly mellow tone for such a disgusting sentence.

Jason gagged a little. He couldn’t help it. Oh, christ. Yeah, bodies got wet and shit after a while, but characterizing that as juicy? That was out of line.

“Not like- not like that!” Danny fluttered his hands at Jason, torn between horror and cackling. “I don’t mean like, dead and rotting. I mean dead and reanimated with ectoplasm. Souped with the sweet nectar of the afterlife. Wolf is a ghost, man.” He snickered.

“Wolf is a ghost,” Jason repeated.

Danny frowned. “Wolf,” he said. “Not Wolf.”

“What?” They sounded the same.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Danny said, saying the name the exact same way that Jason had been. “It’s Wolf, not Wolf.”

Jason stared at him warily. “...Spell it for me.”

“W-U-L-F,”  Danny rattled.

Ah. Ok. Jason took that onboard. “Wulf is a ghost,” he said again. “And therefore I ought not be able to touch him. I can touch you.”

“Like this? For sure.” Danny went through his flashbang light-show and shook out his newly black hair. “I’m a physical being. In my ghost form, I can consciously let you touch me. But Wulf was actively in the Ghost Zone when you hit him. You put your hand into the Ghost Zone and smacked him. The living have ghostly properties in the Ghost Zone. He’s tangible there but you should have been intangible.”

“...Maybe I’m a ghost?” Jason posited, cocking his head slightly as he said it. Danny was the expert. “I never found any answer for why I just woke up in my grave one day.”

“You just woke up?” Danny repeated, delighted. He put his hands on his face, breathed into them heavily, and then ran both hands through his hair. “That’s sick. That’s fucking sick, man. Did you have to dig yourself out like a zombie?”

…Did Danny think this was like, hot, and not disturbing? “Tore off my fingernails on the coffin splinters,” Jason confirmed, fascinated with what a little freak this guy was. Danny’s pupil dilated at the words. Jason could almost have been offended because that shit was traumatic, but hey. 

If he really thought about it. It was sick as fuck.

“I think yes, by the way,” Jason decided. He waited for Danny to give him a questioning look  before he elaborated. “You’re a monsterfucker, my guy. I’m attracted to you, but not because you’re dead. Whereas you’re clearly into the fact that I’m a dead guy.” 

Danny opened his mouth. He shut it. He put a hand over his mouth. “Huh,” he said. “Huh.” His brow furrowed. “If I said it was scientific curiosity and that passion for death runs in my family- no, I hear it.” He flapped a hand at Jason to cut off the laugh he couldn’t stop. “Hush. Okay. Fine.” He stood up a little straighter. “I’m a necrophiliac and I’m proud.”

A window banged shut in the kitchen and there was a clatter as someone’s shitty little brother fell into the sink.

“...Hi, Duke!” Danny called.

Jason put his hand over his face.

“Hi, Danny!” Duke called back, voice choked. “Good to hear from you, man.”

“You can’t fucking be here!” Jason said between his fingers. “I have plans, you shitty Zebra mussel.”

Danny looked at him.

“...What?” Duke asked. He came into the room to frown at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. “New Zealand mud snail.” They still didn’t get it. “Spotted lantern fly.” 

Blank stares.

“Fucksake,” said Jason. “I’m calling you an invasive species.”

Danny laughed. Duke made a loud pffft sound and unlocked his phone. He held it up and showed them the screen. “Would the New Zealand zebra lantern fly have this?” He triumphantly brandished his phone screen, which was a screenshot of his chat with Jason where he’d confirmed that he had permission to come over.

“New Zealand zebra lantern fly,” Jason repeated, vexed as fuck. “You know damn well-”

“It checks out, boss,” Danny reported, leaning back from Duke’s phone. “Looks like he’s allowed in. Let ‘im use your TV while we go out.”

“Yeah, let me use your TV while you go on a date,” Duke echoed, clearly enjoying this a lot.

“...I’ll get my coat,” Jason said sullenly. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Danny told Duke.

Jason stalked away into his bedroom, wondering when he’d lost the plot to his own life.

[sukunasweetheart]

I refuse to believe Sukuna wouldn’t eat his lover’s body if they pass before him. There is no way he will let you rot away when you could be with him forever. Especially if it was by your own request. He will eat your heart raw and drink your blood like its ambrosia. Your soul will remain within him for all eternity uwu

ANON THIS IS SAUR BIG BRAINED..... THE WAY THAT THIS IS SO CORRECT 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i literally even had a fic idea similar to this 🥲🫡 i just love this concept, its so poetic and resonates so deeply with his canon character 💖

he'd carry a part of you with him forever through consuming you, the warmth of your blood spreading in his own veins as he drinks from your flesh, it tastes divine like nothing else, perhaps it's because he cherishes you so much, understands how precious you are to him, knows that this is the only chance he'll ever get to indulge in the pure, raw taste of you--

And knowing that this was something you wanted - to be consumed by him - makes sukuna's heart swell with pride, you wholly accepted him, and embraced him for all that he is. For that, he will dutifully devour you, just as you wished.

Each bite he takes, means another part of you is gone from his hands. Sukuna leaves nothing behind, even your bones are crushed up by his strong teeth before he swallows them up, too. It feels odd, to eat someone that he'd wholeheartedly loved as much as he did with you.

It's a messy, gruesome looking process. His four hands are tainted with your crimson blood, and the same has occurred around the edges of his mouth. He blinks, and your corpse has disappeared, as he's now eaten you down completely.

And yet, though he's fulfilled his desires and your request, and was fully able to enjoy the unique and delightful flavours of your body, sukuna feels strange.

He feels unsatisfied.

He had you to the last fragment, alone. So why is he still left with yearning?

Sukuna stares at his emptied, bloodied hands. Yes, empty... It's the first time he's felt empty after such a full meal.

He will never be able to touch you again, and that is almost unbearable to fathom, more than he realised. The only comfort he receives, is that your body is now within him, and he will carry you around to wherever he goes.

Doomed to forever to yearn after a taste, a person that he can never have again, sukuna picks up the bloodied kimono that he'd stripped you of from the floor, and leaves this place behind in silence.

-

This is just an afterthought, but imagine if you do actually pop up in his innate domain quite some time after, which surprises him 🤔 but then he realises that he probably ate you up with so much love that he'd unknowingly cursed you and took a part of your literal soul with him when he consumed your body--

He'd call you a sly thing, asking if you knew this would happen when you'd asked him to devour you with your dying breath. Yet he seems quite overjoyed by the fact that he can interact with you again

He would question you on why you're only showing up now, after making him grieve for so long (he wouldn't verbally say that last part 🤭) and you tell him its bc you're only a tiny fragment of yourself, it took a while for you to even develop this appearance of yours

You probably appear to him in his dreams or whenever hes just spacing out 😇

[dicediceking]

I told you I was gonna draw payjay angst

I've been thinking about how Paper doesn't know what's going on. No one knows how this happened but most also don't know they can't come back. So in Paper's eyes, OJ's dead but he'll be revived, right? I mean MePhone literally in the Hotel. Why hasn't he revived....

Now on to the "how would they look as human" I think they'd just look like corpses, only catch is they won't rot and decay

Edit: I cannot believe I forgot a whole ass word. Chat I think I'm dyslexic

[missblissy]

Domestic Astarion x Reader HCs

A/N: UwU just wanted to add to the married life headcanons after the events of the game. Fluffy good stuff below. GN!Tav, no class/race. Enjoy!

Some days always started better than others. But that’s only to say because someone didn’t need as much sleep as you, and had a life time left to learn new skills. One of them being cooking. Sure Astarion can’t taste and it’s a useless skill to him. But you? He would do anything for you. And that includes learning to cook for the sheer simple act of spoiling you with a warm and home made breakfast in bed.

It’s strange to say you two never had a wedding. That’s not to say you two weren’t married. “Oh…?” Astarion isn’t sure how to explain this when someone asks, “Well, you see, my darling little love here found this-” He holds up his hand and wiggles the ring in his finger, “On a rotting old skeleton then found the matching one, get this, on another smelly corpse!” Most people wouldn’t look fondly on something like that. But no, Astarion wasn’t most people. He’d smile and swoon, “And I suppose since then we’ve been married,”

It doesn’t help that back then when you did find those rings, you quite literally told him, “We’re married now,” As a joke. It wasn’t joke….

Astarion has a habit of leaving you poems to find in the most hidden of places. Like little lost treasures. Or maybe he just knows the looting demon you are at heart with your little grabby fingers going for anything they can touch. So it always comes to a surprise to you when you open a book and a poem written years ago flutters out… but the love and truth still rings pure despite the yellowing of the pages.

Crimson sons, vermillion daughters. Quivering maroon, burgundy, cardinal. Short fainting strokes Fester a broken carotid Free from feathers Unbound By the serpent's head no more.

His way of saying thank you for everything you've ever given him. And then some. No matter the message you cherished each treasured poem you would find.

The man had a knack for spoiling you, unconditionally, and most importantly, endlessly. If you saw something out in a shop that caught you eye, but you were just to stubborn to get it for yourself. Surprise, surprise when you get home and find it there with a man beaming proud like a puppy with his bone.

But that didn’t mean affection was off the table either. Astarion spoiled you with kisses, big ones, little ones, some on the back of your hand as he opened a door for you. Others on your cheek, gently but with sorrow as he left for some few weeks for whatever reason. He had his own things to do and sometimes you couldn’t go with him. But that just meant when he got home you could throw your arms around him, breathe him in and share the long awaited kiss of his return.

Married life strangely suited you both, from the little grabbing of hands under tables, the protective placement of an arm, the look of pride when the other did something extraordinary. And Astarion would always be the more boastful in pride when it came to talking about you.

And he couldn’t help but show off, sure he’s loud and arrogant about it. Saying he was best option of course, no one else stood a chance… blah blah blah. But when no one was around he can look you in the eye and practically grovel, “I am so lucky you chose me,”

There were many other things that came with the long life of being married together. The two of you were quite dedicated to learning to… dance. Astarion hadn’t a clue wether his left foot was right, and you may have been no better. It was your idea really. You heart would swoon watching other couples and with an eager voice you pointed a finger and declared, “I want to do that too!”

And so you did, but behind the close doors of your own home. Seeing as Astarion didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of so many people. Where you both could trip and side step and laugh, giggle and make the most out of learning something new together.

It seemed the two of you had a habit of learning things together. From silly little drawings, to paintings, perhaps an instrument or two. You both always found a way to share your hobbies and passions together.

And it was the mornings, where these happened most often. Naturally Astarion couldn’t be in the sun but that didn’t stop him from enjoying what little light he could. You’d find him in the dusty dusk right before the sun actually broke the horizon.

He had been teaching himself to play the piano, so to wake up in the morning and not hear the soft echos of keys down the halls would be a bad sign. It’d be another bad sign if you didn’t sit down beside him, stroking the keys as the two of you played a song that was always in the process of being made and never done.

Surely soon he’d go off to sleep, sharing kisses and affection. You wouldn’t see him again until the evening, when the sun was starting it decent. Day-phobia was real in vampires no matter how much they loved the sun and he didn’t have a worm anymore to help him fight that. But he managed, enjoying every sun rise and sun set he got to see just as the world of night came and went.

Despite staying up all night sometimes just to be beside him, it was fairly often that Astarion would have to nag you to go to sleep. You’d barely have even one eye open, drifting back and forth between dreams and you’d still tell him, “I’m not tired, I’m just resting my eyes,” All because he was up late in kitchen and you didn’t want to leave his side.

He often compromises though, making deals and barters, “If I go upstairs with you, will you go to sleep?”

“…” Surely you aren’t going to say no? “Will you be the big spoon?”

“Of course,” How could he say no to a face like yours? And such a sleepy one too?

He didn’t mind, not really. Some nights he’d stay in bed with you until the morning. Even though nothing would get done, or things he had planned were set aside, he wouldn’t sleep either, he truly really didn’t mind. He could lay there for eternity holding you close and be at peace.

[little-annie]

They have to tell them. They have to tell Dustin. They have to tell Robin. They have to tell the kids.

Over the last week, while lying in bed curled into each other, while eating breakfast pressed as close as they could manage, while snuggled up for yet another movie night, they talked about it, discussed how they'd break the news to everyone.

They knew Robin would be easy, accepting, because, well, the whole lesbian platonic soul mate of it all.

They had a hunch Will would feel some sense of relief, belonging, acceptance in himself and they hoped the young Wheeler would experience the same.

They knew it'd be okay, but there was always that itching nerve of anxiety saying, 'What if?' 'What if it's not okay.' 'What if it's really not okay and they'll never see any of their little nuggets again because they're too disgusted to even look them in the eye?'

But they had to tell them. No two ways about it. They had to tell them or someone was going to find out on their own and shit would hit the fan.

But firstly, they have to tell Dustin.

So here they sit in the Harrington house, Steve and Eddie side by side on the couch mere inches apart as Dustin sits on the coffee table in front of them, waiting and impatient.

"So? What was it you two were wanting to tell me?"

The two eldest boys turn to look at each other.

Steve, nerves evident on his face, brow furrowed, cheeks tinting red, bottom lip worried between his teeth, he sighs, shakey, scared and too fucking nervous.

And without even thinking, without even caring that Dustin's literally a foot in front of them, Eddie reaches out. Because he has to, because his boy is scared and it's crushing him to not be holding him right now. His ringed hand moves to Steve's thigh, giving a gentle squeeze before shifting his grip to take Steve's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together.

Steve tenses for a moment, eyes flashing to Dustin before he looks to Eddie and visibly relaxes, shifting closer, thigh now pressed to Eddie's, slouching with relief.

Dustin's eyes are wide, darting between the two men and their clasped hands. They can see the nerves creeping into his expression and suddenly this feels so much harder but before they can manage words, Dustin speaks, "Oh my god, is someone dying? Are one of you dying? Steve, do you have butt cancer? Oh my god. Oh my god, you're dying."

The kid shakes his head, hand moving to remove his hat and tug at his curls, " We can't do this shit without you. We'd be a wreck. You're like the best thing that's happened to us. You're like the Party's weird mom. You're getting treatment right? Is it going okay? Is Eddie driving you? Eddie, are you driving him? Are you taking care of him? Please say you're taking care of him."

The two men look between each, their clasped hands, Dustin and his expression that's nearing tears. They're speechless. They try to speak only to be interrupted. "I'm moving in, I'll help, I'll cook, I'll clean. Well, Eddie can cook and clean and I'll keep you company. Be the comedic relief. We can plan your funeral together. Do you want to be cremated? Or a rotting corpse in the ground for all the rodents to eat? Do you-"

"Dustin," Eddie carefully speaks

"Do you want me to-"

"Dustin," Steve repeats his boyfriend's words

"Shut up I'm talki-"

"We're dating!" Steve and Eddie both say with a shout, lifting their joined hands shaking them in Dustin's face

The kid cocks his head to the side, brow raised in question, "So Steve's not dying?"

"No"

"And you're together?"

"Yes?" Steve says like he's not entirely sure. Which is dumb. Because he is. But he's still nervous of how Dustin is going to handle this type of news. It's not 'Butt Cancer' (Jesus Christ this kid,) nothing even close, but it's still news. Unexpected and scary to reveal.

"Are you asking me?"

"Would it be okay if we were?" Eddie, somehow the calm voice of reason in this situation

Dustin almost seems offended at the moment, a weird look of shock appearing on his face only just now, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Um, because that's gay?" Steve says, watching Dustin grimace at the remark

"And?"

"You're fine with that?"

"Well, Steve, does Eddie treat you well?"

Steve nods, kinda baffled by the whiplash of this whole conversation

"And Eddie, does Steve treat you well?"

"Yeah,"

"Well then, it's fine." Dustin slaps his hands to his thighs standing up from his position on the coffee table, a teasing smirk on his face, "Congratulations I guess. Just don't get Steve pregnant."

Eddie cackles while Steve sputters "That can't ev-"

Totally ignoring the pair still seated on the couch, Dustin is already making his way to the front door with Steve's keys in hand, "Now, how about the arcade?"

[taintandviolent]

feed my Frankenstein ; Frankenkyle x reader

summary: stripper!reader decides to dress up like a zombie for Halloween, and when the girls bring Kyle to the strip club…. He makes the decision for himself that he’s going to be with his kind. w a r n i n g s: 5k words! stripper!reader, female reader, cunnilingus, rough sex, violence, mentions of blood, biting, graphic descriptions. kyle being a big, horny zombie who doesn't understand his strength. a/n: [🎃 part of lizzie's halloween fics! 🎃] probably some errors, whoops. I didn't want to label this as dead dove don't eat, but Kyle literally tries to eat reader, so be warned, I guess??? also my ending is very... cliff-hangery. don't come for me, this fic took on a life of its own very quickly. thank you for reading if you did!!! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

You dab a stippling sponge against your neck, hiding an edge with a speckle of grey makeup. You’d put a lot of effort into your silly little zombie look - but it was Halloween after all, and hardly any of the other girls had dressed up. Sure, they’d started out in low-effort costumes of Dorothy Gale and Snow White, but as soon as those came off, they were just their normal selves again. You… not so much. You went the extra mile. You’d spent hours applying prosthetics on your limbs, and painting your flesh to mimic the rotting corpses seen in cult classic horror films. Specks of blood around your perfectly lined lips, uneven skin, stitches from your neck down the front of your body.

It wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea, you knew. Some of them would lose their boners at the sight. It was time for your first shift. The club was rowdy, you heard it from behind the door. You lean against it, gulp down the last of your water, and fluff your hair before spinning on your red, patent leather heels and pulling open the door.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Madison…” Zoe confesses, nervously. She holds onto Kyle’s arm tightly, guiding him around a booth like an elderly man. He was already entranced by the vibrant lights that swept back and forth in shades of orange and green. It reminded him of his show. Colours….

“Oh, please.” With a roll of her eyes, Madison flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “This is the best place to put a braindead man… look, they’re everywhere.”

Men cluster around the stage, watching hungrily as women take their clothes off, gyrating their hips close enough to their faces that they could reach out and take bites  out of their full asses. The bouncer in the corner makes sure that doesn’t happen, though.

Over the PA, a loud voice says: “Alright! Put your hands together for our resident nerdy girl, our very own reanimated sexpot…”

As though it was on hinges, Kyle’s head swings heavily to face the stage. H

“Look, he’s already fitting in.” Madison nips.

You prance forward, reaching for the pole in the centre of the stage. Men holler your name, the few regulars that came every night you were working. You’d earned yourself a reputation as the nerdy girl because of your penchant for dressing up on the themed nights. Your hips roll to the beat of the song, coming daringly close to the hands that hold dollar bills. When they don’t get the chance to slip them into your outfit, they flutter at your feet, decorating the stage. You undo the tie of your shirt, revealing white bikini with gratuitous blood spatter. You’d done that yourself.

You wrap one leg around the pole, latching onto it. As it spins, you reach behind your back, undoing the tie of your top. Your breasts fall free, nipples hardening in the air conditioning. You hold the bra out proudly, smiling as the hoots and cheers fill the room.

“C’mon,” she starts, taking hold of Kyle’s thick wrist. His skin is always slightly cooler than everyone else’s. She remembers how cold the inside of his mouth was when they first — She blinks away the thoughts, actually disgusted by the idea. After all, she’d never really wanted to fuck a dead guy…

“Hey!” “Watch it, sweetheart!” “Get outta’ the way, you’re blockin’ the view, toots!”

Madison ignores the heckling, and continues to the front, pressing her bony hips against the lip of the stage.

“Hey! Dead bitch!”

Her voice is loud enough that it carries over the music, and you furrow your brow. She wasn’t wrong, but the bitch part seemed unnecessary. Still, you make your way over to the cluster of them, and bend at the waist to hear her.

“Yeah - what?” You ask, still swaying to the song.

“This is our little zombie — ”

“His name is Kyle,” The other girl interrupts pointedly. Madison throws a look towards the other girl, who nods with a fake smile. Truly, she didn’t care what you called him. As long as she didn't have to deal with him, she was happy.

“Kyle — and he needs a babysitter. He’s a little…” she makes a face, stretching her mouth out in a sneer. You knit your brows together again, unsure what that means.

Kyle, you think to yourself. What a frat boy name. In fact, he looks like a frat boy with really really good makeup. Full head of curly blonde hair, dark eyes, strong but soft features… looks like he can absolutely devour a keg.

He’s wearing an open black shirt and jeans, and beneath the black shirt, you can see raised flesh, scars like he was put back together. Funny that you’d chosen to do a dance number to Feed my Frankenstein.

“Do your job and keep him entertained, okay?” She pulls the peeking string of your thong far enough out to freely press a one hundred dollar bill against your hip and lets go. It snaps back against your skin, hard enough to sting. You wince.

Before you have time to protest, the girls are walking back towards the entrance without their little zombie in tow. One of them casts a woeful glance over her shoulder, and you’re left wondering why if she cares so much, why was she still walking away? You fill your lungs with air, exhale and lower yourself down onto your haunches.

“Hey baby,” you coo, wrapping a single blonde curl around your index finger. It’s angel-soft, and bounces back as you let go, straightening up. He seems to melt towards your touch, starved for it. “I like your costume.”

He watches as your ample cleavage sways with the gentle motion of your body. He repeats the word back to you, laboriously. “Cos…tume….”

“That’s right,” you say, running your hands over your thighs as you stand upright. The long heels of the shoes elongate your legs, making you tower over the club’s patrons. “I like it, it’s cute.”

Kyle watches wordlessly as your hands glide over your body, carefully skipping over the stitches at your knees, along your stomach, and finally up to the long stitch around your neck, which to him is holding your head on. Kyle’s eyes blink repeatedly with recognition.

You dip down, reaching for his hand. The crowd woooo’s as you hand him the string of your skirt. He grips it hard before looking at it deeply. You take one step back, flashing a coy expression to the men in the front row. Another step, and the tie begins to slip through the bow, unravelling. Another step and the skirt falls to your feet. A cacophony of approval fills your ears.

You’re in nothing but the blood-spattered bikini bottoms now, and you sink to your knees again, flashing Kyle a bright smile. He blinks, your skirt awkwardly hanging from his hand by the string.

On all fours, you crawl towards him, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Dollar bills shower the stage,  and when you slide your knees out to the sides, allowing men a delicious view of your backside, someone tucks another $100 in your bikini.

Kyle is watching you, but his hands drop to his groin where he makes a fist, and rubs it awkwardly over his now-throbbing erection. You immediately notice this, and your eyes widen. That’s a sure fire way to get kicked out, and for whatever reason, you’ve clocked him as too innocent to let that happen. There’s either a) something wrong with him, or b) he’s really committed to acting like a clueless, braindead boy. Both options require action.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, guiding him to the side of the stage. There’s an empty chair, and with a heel, you push him back into it. Sit. Stay. He does. Good boy.

He never takes his eyes off you though, and every time you’re looking at him, his jaw hangs slack, staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He keeps trying to get up, and you have to slowly shake your head at him, teasingly. He seems to understand that gesture, and stays put.   

As you dance, you find yourself watching him, too. Inexplicably drawn to him, for whatever reason. You don’t usually take guys to the back, but $100 is a pretty good tip. Besides, you didn’t want to run into that girl again, and especially not angry.

As your routine comes to an end, Kyle gets up out of his chair, knocking into the edge of the stage. A few guys turn their heads, trying to figure out what this guy’s deal is. You’re too busy picking up your tips, and gathering your clothes to notice. With arms full, you race to the back, throw on a t-shirt and bolt back to the front, praying that Kyle is still where you left him.

He is. He may be trying to climb up on the stage, head craning in the direction of where you exited, but he's still there. You heave a relieved sigh, and saunter up to him, softening your expression.

“Hi, Kyle…” you murmur sweetly. You slip your arm underneath his, linking it with yours and softly pulling him down into a normal standing position again. There’s a small moment of processing and trust before he looks at you and smiles very weakly.

Destinee is next, and while she’s a nice girl, you absolutely loathe her taste in lighting. You enjoy a good rave, sure, but this is like the Electric Daisy Carnival in a much, much smaller space.

You learn very quickly that Kyle doesn’t like it either. At all. In fact, he might dislike it more than you. As soon as the beat is thumping and the bright red and orange lights are washing over the establishment, Kyle wrenches away from you, covering his ears. A low groan starts in his throat, bubbling up through his lips until he’s practically screaming.

“Shhh, shh it’s okay!” You try desperately to console him, but he can’t seem to hear you. Glancing nervously at the guests around you who are starting to take notice of him now, you smile apologetically. “Kyle, it’s okay!”

There’s only one solution - the private dance rooms. They’re quiet, secluded and a perfect spot to store a stressed out zombie boy for a few hours. You looked towards the spiral staircase that led upstairs, and hesitated. You were a dancer who rarely used the private rooms. You had been hard pressed to avoid being alone with any man, especially one that had paid you and felt entitled to whatever he wanted to take. Kyle, however, didn’t seem like the type to… well, do that. Or even articulate that he wanted to do that — did he even understand that you’d been paid to babysit him? Likely not.

You force his hand down as gently as possible, interlacing your fingers with his. “Kyle,” you say. “Kyle, look at me.”

His head moves sluggishly, and his eyes gradually follow. He looks at you with big, black eyes, the surrounding skin darkened and mottled. In the changing lights, he looks so lost, and your heart throbs desperately. Shucking the worries of whispers aside, you lead him through the club towards the wrought iron staircase.

“Hey Lance,” you say. “Private room open?”

“They sure are…” he replies with a large grin, his heavy accent coming through. Lance was one of the bouncers and rotated positions, so you had gotten semi-close with him. He enjoyed your presence and penchant for the strange. “Last door on da’ left.”  

With Kyle in tow, you head down the long, red hallway. Each of the doors were painted black, with gold trim. Kyle’s gaze travels from each door, picking up on the various sounds that seeped from behind them.

“Okay…” You say, your voice a touch softer than before as you push open the last door, praying that it’s been cleaned adequately. You cock your head to the side, urging him inside. His concerned eyes swept from you to the door and back to you before he finally decided that it was safe enough for him to enter. “Look, no strobe lights. No loud music. Just you and me.”

“You… and me….” He grumbles. The door clicks shut behind you. His words are painfully slow and slurred, but you can’t help be charmed by the innocence of them. “You…. You’re…. l-like me.”

“That’s right, baby… I’m like you.” In a quiet, joking whisper, you say: “Raaaaauuuuggghhhhhh…. Brains.”

Kyle seems to like this. The tiniest of smiles forms on his mouth. His chest heaves, and without warning, he lunges for you. His strong arms wrap around you in a steely grip that at first terrifies you; your arms are pinned at your sides, locked into place. His tongue slips over your collarbone, wet and cool like he’s just finished eating ice cream. It slips over your neck, along your jawline, and up behind your ear. He’s licking you, devouring you with such pressure that he has to have eaten some of the makeup by this point. You wince as he nips at your ear lobe, his teeth grinding down on the flesh. With some inhuman gurgle, he descends, covering your chest in his saliva.

You were used to men being hungry for you, acting like rabid dogs the second that they caught a glimpse of your plump tits or your juicy ass. It was part of the gig, came with the territory. But not this. This guy was on something. Had to be. Without warning, he yanks your cropped shirt up, and his jaws clamp down on the meat of your exposed breast. You yelp, pushing him off. He looks hurt or confused, or maybe both. Immediately, you scramble, feeling like you’ve just taken candy from a child.

“Hey no.. it’s okay. You can bite me… I like being bit. But not too hard, honey… that hurt.”

He doesn’t understand. Or he doesn’t look like he understands. His brows knit together sadly, while the dark, ink pools he has for eyes glaze over.

“….biiiiiiiiiiiiiite….” He says.

“Softly,” you finished, with your cutest zombie voice. “Biiiiite soft…ly….”

He cranes forward, mouth finding your flesh again. His teeth continue to graze your skin, slightly softer than before though, so maybe he does understand. His tongue lolls out sloppily to taste every inch. He nears the jumbled up mess of liquid latex on your elbow, and you expect him to stop, or skip over it — but he doesn’t. He feels uneven, soft flesh and his front teeth clamp down on it with a guttural sound. He rears his head back far enough for the liquid latex to streeeetch, and snap.

This gorgeous, blonde boy has a chunk of faux flesh hanging from between his teeth. Fake blood dots his pale lips, and he’s looking at you with the most confused expression you’ve ever seen on a man. It’s a grisly sight, really, but it fits the theme of the night. He’s committed to the zombie act, you’ll give him that.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, spit that out…” You reach up, rubbing the fake blood off his bottom lip. flatten your slender fingers on his broad chest, skin smooth like stone except for the deep scars. These are really good prosthetics. You can’t even see the seam. Because there aren’t any…

Like a dog, he drops the wrinkly skin-toned mass from his mouth and frowns. He looks genuinely disappointed, like he expected blood and guts. “B-bad… th-that… didn’t taste….. gooood…” he stammers. "Hun..gry…..”

For a moment, you’re frozen. Your realization clicks into place painfully slowly, slower than his brain seems to move. He’s really too good at the whole zombie act, and a panicked thought writhes its way into your mind, penetrating it the way that a tissue absorbs blood. Just sucks it in, becomes a part of it. No, no way.

Heavily masking the nerves in your voice, you clear your throat and reach for his shoulder. You stroke the smooth roundness of it, raking your nails against his skin.  “You want something that tastes good, baby?”

That ‘something good' is your cunt. You’ll let him eat you out so you can think. You assume he’ll eat you out like most men do — boringly — and you can process the realisation that this poor creature in front of you is actually really badly scarred, and possibly, a victim of head trauma, or something. Because there’s no way you’re meeting an actual zombie. Even on Halloween in New Orleans. That’s insane. So, you’re going to let him eat you out while you sort this out in your mind.

That was the plan, anyway.

Except the second you sink into the vinyl chair, he’s on his knees, looking at your pretty cunt with hungry eyes and the visual wipes your brain clean. It was like you put a plate of food in front of a starving man. His mouth opens. You untie both sides of your underwear, letting them fall to the floor. His eyes drop heavily, watching every move.

At first, his tongue juts out, curiously tasting what you’ve put in front of him. It presses between your folds, pauses, before wiggling around. Your eyelids flutter; you were ready to zone out, but Kyle’s inexperience, his curiosity feels so good.

“Good,” he growls, the word vibrating your cunt. His cool breath washes over your core, sending a chill up your spine. He delves deeper, tasting more of you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, flipping the swollen bundle of nerves mercilessly. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel the first of your orgasms rushing towards your centre. Carefully, not wanting to scare him, you grip his angel curls and ride his mouth slightly. Shit. Almost instantly, the throbbing starts and you make a mess of his poor boy’s face, squirting over his lips and chin.

“You like that?” You ask, through uneven pants. The first of the night always feels sooo good.

He nods heavily on your cunt, still lapping up the juices that leak from your slick hole. Your legs start to quiver and a fire burns deep within your cunt. You try to pat his shoulders, wordlessly telling him to stop. His tongue delves in, and he freezes.

“Kyle?” You ask nervously. Unconsciously, you clench around his tongue. He snaps to life, like someone flipped a switch in his brain. His strong arms wrap around the front of your thighs, tightly. Very tightly. He starts to pull you off the chair, lifting you up into his arms. Your ass cheeks are pressed against his chest and the back of your head is on the chair’s cushion now. He’s holding you tightly, upside down, still swallowing mouthfuls of your sopping wet cunt. He can’t seem to hear your desperate, pleading cries to stop.

You blink back tears, your vision throbs. You don’t know if it’s because the blood is very obviously rushing to your head, or because you’re coming again so quickly, but he’s drilling his tongue into your cunt like there’s a cream centre. If there is, he’s found it.

A scream fills your lungs and your body lunges upwards, trying to find leverage — something, anything to hold onto. She clenches again, pulsating around his cold, slippery tongue. Kyle’s practically drinking you with each clench. The overstimulation is crippling, and you can’t help but scream out.

“KYLE! STOP!”

At the shrill sound, he immediately drops you and your body hits the ground with a heavy thud. Your ass aches a little from the fall, but it’s nothing that’s going to ruin the night.

He’s frowning at you, his lips and chin glazed with your cum.

“S-sorry…” he grumbles. “Sorry. Bad.”

“No, no… not bad. Accident. Accident. Kyle?”

You call his name and he’s looking at you with those big, hopeful, dark eyes of his. You can tell — he isn’t sure if you’re going to scold him, or praise him and the uncertainty terrifies him. You get to your knees, crawling towards the sofa. Once you’re up on it, you pat the spot next to you three times.

“Can I see?” You gesture to your own body, tracing the remaining prosthetics with a single finger before pointing to him. He looks down, his bottom lip jutting out. He nods after a few seconds and lumbers over to you, sitting down heavily.  

Your fingers dance over his skin. He was literally pieced back together. His head, his arms, his legs, the lower half of his torso… he was sewn back together like Frankenstein. Different parts connected as one. You’re sitting next to an actual zombie.

And then it dawns on you. Those girls. You’d seen them before. You knew their faces. They lived in the massive mansion on Jackson Avenue. They were witches. Witches were a dime a dozen in New Orleans — in fact, it was weirder if you didn’t practice some kind of craft. But zombies… you’d only ever heard stories. You’d never seen one, let alone be eaten out by one.

You stroke Kyle’s broad chest. For being a zombie, he’s surprisingly soft. You’d always imagined them as dried out, crusty creatures, but he only had a few patches of dry skin. In fact, he had more patches where you could see dark blue pooling underneath his skin, where blood had settled after death. He is cold however, and that’s the most jarring part.

You ease him back on the leather sofa, making sure his head goes down softly onto the arm rest.  

“It’s okay, Kyle…. I like your body.”

“Costume….” He says. You shake your head.

“Body. Body.”

His hips give the tiniest little buck, and it slips between your ass cheeks. He whimpers, trying to get a visual of what he’s feeling. Gradually, his thrusts increase in pressure, and you adjust for your own pleasure.

When you adjust, forcing his cock to slide in between your cunt instead, he feels the slick warmth, and his feral nature returns, stronger than before. His thrusts pick up, and he seems to realise that you are a living thing, with pulsing blood and a throbbing heartbeat. Something else is throbbing again, too.

You whine and match his thrusts, letting your head loll back.

Kyle has a different idea, and before you can stop him, he has your forearm in his mouth, teeth clamped down on the soft, warm flesh. It only takes a few seconds for you to feel the stinging ache consuming your arm. It hurts… bad. The muscles in your fingers contract, twitching limply. He aggressively shakes his head, and your heart drops. The terror sets in, and you’re suddenly running cold.

“Kyle, no- OW! KYLE!”

He shakes his head again, biting down harder and digging his the ridges of his teeth deeper into your skin. You don’t necessarily feel the flesh tear, somewhere near the top, but you certainly feel the warm flow of blood that drips down your arm, dribbling onto his chest. Your pupils dilate. The blood keeps flowing, and you feel him start to rear his head back. Something pulls back with him. The ache is replaced by a searing burn, and you realise that if he pulls back any further, he’s going to pull off skin. You’re panicking now, and don’t know what else to do but try again. This time though, you roar at him, bringing back your zombie voice. It’s not so cute this time. “Raaaaaaaaauhhhhhh, KYLE. KYLE STOP. STOP!”

You try to rip your arm away from his mouth, while pushing his head. Thankfully, his powerful jaw goes slack and your arm slides out, strings of spit stretching from his lips. Your blood is smeared across his chin and bottom lip, and collects in the corners of his mouth.

With your vision bouncing thanks to Kyle’s furious thrusting, you look at your arm, watching the bright crimson well up in the indentations of the bite mark. Amidst the rest of your makeup, the bite doesn’t look out of place. You hold your arm out further, trying to come up with a story for this one. Maybe the makeup had stained in an absolutely mind-blowing way. And you had a reaction to it, hence the bizarre swelling and scabbing. That sounds good, sounds believable.

“Want… more…”  He says, and your stomach drops, praying that he doesn’t mean more flesh. You’re not sure you can handle another one. Mid-thrust, Kyle’s thick, veiny cock angles just right and slips into your cunt. She swallows him easily, still wet from being eaten — a mixture of cum and Kyle’s viscid, slimy saliva. You plant both hands on his chest, letting out a breathy, melodic moan. He feels good enough to make you forget about the bite, and as you begin to ride him, it seems that he forgets too.

You’re taking control, grinding on top of him, using his cock like your own personal toy. It’s hitting every spot you want it to, pressing into your walls with its girth, and you can’t help but whine about it. Pausing to smear your blood across Kyle’s chest with your middle finger, you leave deep, red streaks across pale skin. You shouldn't find that hot, but you do.

Kyle wraps both hands around your waist, pulling you down onto his cock relentlessly, each thrust feeling harder than the last. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his almost bare chest, and allowing him to take control, thrusting his cock up into you. The slightly bent positioning of his cock, head grinding against your spongy insides is enough to make you cum right then. You don’t though, holding back, clenching your pussy as tight as you can.

“You like it, Kyle?” You ask, through shaky pants. “You like that?”

Kyle nods, heavily, his darkened eyes watching the way that your body quivers on top of him, wordlessly marvelling at the way your thigh muscles contract and shake on top of him every time he slips out, and buries himself inside your dripping pussy again. He loves how it feels, even if he can’t articulate it the way he wants to, the sensations are everything he wants. Everything.

He grips you harder, lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down, repeating this violent display of strength over and over again. Your cunt shudders, unable to hold back your orgasm any longer. Kyle feels it first, and the sudden tightness has him growling, snarling and pushing his length into you as deep as he can. Kyle digs his heels into the sofa, lifting his legs. You feel the pressure against your cervix as he bottoms out, and press against his cock, forcing his cock deeper into you, until you feel the ache. You ride out the waves of your own orgasm, feeling his as it comes in thick, sticky ropes.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and you quickly get to your feet, pulling your shirt over your head. You scramble, trying to find the bikini bottoms and once they’re tied, you throw open the door. It’s Lance, who is looking very concerned. Your legs are pressed tightly together, in fear that Kyle’s load is going to start dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

“Miss Y/N. The club is closing… are you alright in there?”

Closing? What? It was bareley eleven when you brought him into the room. The seedy, slick realisation that you’d been fucking this zombie for almost four hours made your cheeks blossom with heat. You immediately tuck your bitten arm behind the door, flashing Lance a charming smile.

“Yes! Fine! Just uh, finishing up a dance. Hey - Lance… did two girls ever come back, asking for this blonde guy in here?”

He pauses, thinking. After a few moments, he shakes his head and apologises.

Okay, guess he’s coming home with me, then. “Thank you, Lance. I’ll be down in just a second.”

You shut the door and lean against it, looking at the zombie on the sofa. He’s staring up at the ceiling, a small smile on his face. “Kyle, do you live on Jackson Street? Where do you live?”

He sits up abruptly, turning his head to face you. “Uhm…” He murmurs. “Big…… white.”

“Big white house?” You repeat, making a house shape with your hands. He nods.

“You wanna’ go home?”

~

After throwing on a pair of dolphin shorts, collecting your duffel bag and giving Lance a generous tip, you have Kyle in tow, fingers laced tightly with his. Jackson Street was maybe a twenty minute walk, something you both could handle.

Despite it going on 3 AM, the streets were still filled with partiers, people in masks, and drinks in their hands. You and Kyle blend in as you walk, heading down the busy roads. Once you arrived at the Mansion, the gates were open, a fine mist spilling into the sprawling yard.

The woman who answers the door is beautiful, graceful and composed. She wears all black, her honey blonde hair cascading graceful over her shoulders.

“Good Evening,” she says.

“Good Evening. Um.. this is going to sound strange, even for Halloween, but, um…”  You want to continue. Desperately, but for some reason, you already know the answer. He does belong here. As though she’d said it to you, plain as day, he belonged here, this is where he stayed.

Zoe and Madison must’ve forgotten him.

Your brows furrow, indignantly. How could they?

Cordelia’s plump lips flatten into a knowing smile. You swallow, suddenly feeling uneasy. You scratch at the liquid latex on your neck, fiddling uncomfortably with one of the edges of the prosthetic.

“Well, Kyle… here you go. Go with…?”

“Cordelia.”

“Cordelia. Go with Cordelia, you’re home now.”

Kyle seems somewhat hesitant, but when Cordelia holds out a hand, he obeys and lumbers inside, looking over his shoulder at you one last time.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she says, softly. “Would you like to come inside?”  

You consider that for a second. Deep within the wetness of your bones, and the warmth of your blood, you feel like you should. There’s something extremely comforting about this place, but… “No, no thank you. I should be getting home. It’s Halloween. Weird things happen on Halloween.”

She smiles again. “That’s quite a bite you have on your arm… did Kyle do that?”

“Oh, uh… yeah. He got a little excited earlier, I’m a dancer, and uh, y’know. Men.”

“I have something for that.”

You look down at your bite again, it looks nastier than before. You clear your throat, ready to reject and explain that your older sister is a nurse and she’ll help, but instead, and you’re not quite sure how that happened, you’re walking through the doors. Kyle is delighted to see you again, pausing on the grand staircase to look at you.

Cordelia’s hands end up being very, very soft.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randodummy / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz

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[jettwrites]

poltergeist!art anon again, lovedd what u wrote abt him! sorry I love this au I have too many thoughts...

hmm I was thinking that he may have a human form that he can turn into but he can't really control it fully bc he never really had the need too, since you're the only interesting person to move in (it's always been elderly couples). He looks the same as before he died just kind of off... his skin a little too pale, his eyes more greyish than baby blue, etc.

side note, when he finally gets to fuck you, your tummy glows bc of his phantom cock <3 (going insane w this thought).

and idk If this sounds mean but art soo looks like he would drown in a pool ☠️

anon never be sorry i am currently rotting over this au so you are just my supplier. SORRY THIS TOO ME SO LONG BTW!! totally lost motivation for writing in general, but now i’m working through my inbox!! feel free to send me any thirsts or asks 💗

but OMFG him drowning is so smart. it explains why his lips are tinted a bleak blue and the temperature of his oddly pale skin is unreasonably frisk. he’s trapped in the vicinity of the old creaky house due to drowning in the pool out back — enclosed by invisible fences. if he dares to travel past the barrier, he’s immediately brought right back to the place where he lost his life.

he’s been trapped there for decades, growing even more bored with each new tenant. he quite literally gets enjoyment out of watching the walls deteriorate, floral wallpaper warping into something grotesque. normally, ghosts are supposed to get a kick out of tormenting and scaring the life out of whoever crosses their pass. however, this is not the case for art. the boy prefers to keep himself invisible and would rather not have to bear the panicked shrieking from an elderly couple at the sight of his decaying drowned corpse. doesn’t even want them to see his previous living form — afraid of them running away, leaving him with only his own company once more. instead, he opts to stay completely hidden.

when you walk in — all giddy and excited to finally be living on your own — something sparks inside him. a strange sensation he hasn’t felt in he can’t even remembe how long. maybe it’s your hopeful eyes or the way you carry yourself. the way you dress, or your naive mind. it causes him to constantly keeps a watchful of you. spectates your day-to-day schedule and stalks the douchey men you bring home. the ones you let defile you. he watches you undress by lurking in the corner of your room, lacey panties, and matching bra ending up in a pile by his feet. he finds himself stroking his heavy leaking cock over your body countless times, fisting the length in a tight vice-like grip. imagines pumping you deep with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages — love — stuffing you full to watch the bulge that forms around your pelvis. poking from the inside with each thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. wishing to one day see the way your belly glows due to being pounded by his phantom cock, tucking his luminescent seed inside your tight cunt that milks him ever so lovingly.

it’s sick and twisted the way he thinks of you. the way he protects you like a guard dog. the way he watches your every move like a hawk. the way he lightly runs a heavy thumb over your plush bottom lip while you sleep. how he glides over your teeth and pushes into your mouth. it’s crude — but he just can’t help himself, having been deprived of this feeling for soo long :((

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort Pt. 6

6k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Nym lets Astarion drink from her until he's full—perhaps too full—using multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration. His erection grows unignorable in the process. How will he cope?

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, blood drinking, multiple vampire bites, blood loss, inappropriate use of the tadpole, PTSD, reference to past trauma, F! OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 for full tag list (Recommended)

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Notes: Sorry that it took me so long to release this chapter. It's literally been sitting 90% finished in my files for quite some time now lol. I've just been putting off finishing it because I didn't know how to end the chapter! Thanks for your patience <3. No beta-read for this chapter.

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐢

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Too soon, the morning crept in, and Astarion wanted to hold Nym a while longer—an action that was beginning to feel both self-indulgent and generous.

Nym drooled on his chest in a trance so deep that it could be mistaken for sleep. She often tranced like that, and it was certainly something that he envied. Most nights since the nautiloid, he'd been plagued with unwelcome nightmarish visions of his old master.

Astarion toyed with Nym’s unruly waves, pinching a lock of hair between his fingers and twirling it nonchalantly. The sun had only just risen. The birds were singing, signalling for everyone to awake, but he knew that it'd still be some time before anyone woke, including Nym who always rested like a rock.

He stared at the roof of his tent, basking in the warmth of Nym's embrace. He wondered if she felt comfort in the coolness of his touch, or if it was something she merely tolerated, but he suspected the latter.

Her meltdown during their sexual encounter the night before had caught him off guard. It was something he wouldn't have expected from the free-spirited, promiscuous wood-elf. After guessing her circumstance, it felt wrong to label her as such.

He wondered what happened, but when her words melted into his ears, he felt like he knew—given his own experience.

— “Am I just a warm body to you?”

He had pondered this about himself with her before, just as he had for centuries during countless nights spent priming victims for Cazador. Everyone—all of them—would spout platitudes of love or lust, making everything to do with sex feel sullied over time. Yet now, whether it was his newfound free will or Nym herself, something felt different about their budding friendship—something unlike his experiences with all his other lovers.

With his hand slotted between his head and the pillow, he craned his neck to get a better look at her.

But. . .

What he saw was not Nym, but Sebastian—the man he'd brought to Cazador almost 200 years ago—with saturated sharpness and sordid eyes that seemed to burn holes into Astarion.

In a panic, Astarion leapt up, shoving Sebastian off of his chest. The corpse—bleeding profusely out of two small bite marks on his throat—stained the blankets there with blood.

As the scent of rot became overpowering, within mere seconds, Astarion watched in horror as the face morphed into hundreds—no, thousands of other nameless faces that he’d faintly recognized.

All before landing finally back on Nym. . .

He was almost relieved until he realized that the bite marks were still gushing, her face lacked its typical bright and lively complexion, and her eyes were missing their usual lustre.

—But—she couldn't be. . .

He hadn't—

As the blankets that surrounded him became wet with warm blood, he brought his hands into view, and they were covered in Nym’s sweet ichor.

Shamefully, he felt a pang of hunger as he watched her blood run down his forearm.

“If it isn't our prodigal son, how I've longed to find you once again,” a sinister and familiar voice spoke, snickering with satisfaction.

—Cazador.

Looking up, he saw his tormentor towering above him. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that he was no longer at camp, but in the Szarr Estate.

“Though, don't entertain the idea that you'll forgo punishment only because you've brought home such a delectable treat.” His patented intonation assaulted Astarion's eardrums.

Glancing at Nym, he saw her lifeless body on the dirty floor of the kennels.

He felt frozen, but his undead heart raced unrelentingly.

“No,” Astarion growled, forcing eye contact with the black-haired man.

“Ungrateful, as always. Perhaps I will do the honours of punishing you myself instead of Goedy. How I've missed your sweet screams; the most beautiful of melodies.” With hands behind his back, Cazador stalked around Astarion, much like a predator.

Astarion’s stomach lurched with anguish, not knowing whether to grab Nym and run, or to shield her, because surely she wasn't dead.

Surely he could save her. . .

But, all at once, he heard a command, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

It wasn't until he felt his stomach and cheek being pressed into the cold-hard floor that he realized what had happened.

—A compulsion.

He was, once again, in the jaws of a monster—his master—who'd begun to straddle his backside and smash his head against the ground hard enough to crush bone.

Astarion groaned as he felt the familiar sting of his master’s cherished blade—so-called Rhapsody—carving into his back.

The pain was visceral and sharp as Cazador carved from shoulder to shoulder without lifting his blade.

Astarion stifled his screams, but tears fell unbidden as he panted off-beat.

Cazador only removed his blade to find purchase elsewhere. This time: the side of his ribcage, starting from below his right armpit. The new spot was too sensitive—too filled with nerves—and the pain was so terrible that it almost caused him to faint.

Finally, Astarion began to wail, “Stop! Pleas— master!” His entire body felt as if it were rejecting the honorific—as if he could cough it back up.

As the blade traced a line towards the flesh on the side of his waist, he couldn't help but expel a gut-wrenching scream so deep that it felt as if it came from the hells.

To this, Cazador chuckled maniacally, provoking more tears to fall from Astarion’s scarlet eyes as he sobbed. Choking on his own saliva, he retched onto the musty ground that was mere millimetres from his lips.

In this moment, Astarion’s only wish was his own death, because he knew now that his recent freedom had been solely evanescent.

“Astarion,” Cazador spoke darkly, snapping Astarion back to the present.

He leaned in, and screamed, “Astarion!”

“Astarion!” He heard, but this time, a woman's voice. Nym's, and she sounded afraid; he had to find her, to help her—

. . .

Blinking, the kennel was gone, along with its fetid scent.

He squeezed his eyes together, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of him.

The shapes came into focus.

—Nym.

Her face was red, her cheeks were wet. Was she—crying?

“I've been trying to wake you—ah,” she winced. “I'm so glad you're awake now.”

—I'm awake. It was only a. . . a nightmare.

Just then, he felt something touch his cheek, causing him to flinch before he realized that it was just a finger—Nym’s finger.

“Oh—sorry. I just. . .” she grabbed her wrist and held her hand close to her chest as if it were a grubby little thing to be chastised. Frowning, her gaze fell.

Astarion brought his knuckle to his eye and swiped experimentally. Pulling it into view, he saw a clear droplet that dripped from his finger to his lips. He licked instinctively, tasting the salty flavour.

—A tear?

He recollected the events, pseudo and otherwise, that had occurred within the past few moments as he stared perplexedly at his hand.

—My tear?

—Better than her blood, he thought, shuddering at the memory of his nightmare.

Nym's gaze was fixed on him as her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words left her mouth.

With a huff, Astarion let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the tent's roof. “Thank you.”

Nym, squeezing her wrist and gulping, shifted slightly as she sat on her heels. “Are you okay?” she asked, seriously.

“What did you see?” Astarion closed his eyes, almost sure as to what her answer might be and feeling discomfort at the thought.

Nym, releasing her wrist, repositioned herself to sit cross-legged, sighing with eyes closed. “Well. . . you were pleading—pleading for mercy, it seemed. You started grimacing and crying. . .”

She seemed to hesitate to speak her next words.

“Anything else?” Astarion asked.

“Your master—you pleaded for him to—” but she choked on her words as tears began to stream down her face, which screwed up in anguish.

—To stop.

Nym wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry, I know this isn't about me.”

—Odd, this doesn't feel like simple pity.

“I swear,” she started, her face contorting with anger as an undignified sob overtook her. “We’re going to kill that bastard. He can't have you.” Her fists balled up, knuckles turning white. “He can't,” she nearly whispered with a pleading intonation, squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut and hanging her head. She rocked back and forth, digging her knuckles into his blankets futilely.

Witnessing Nym’s raw display of emotion in response to his night terror—which bled from the seams of his unconscious and into his waking life—stirred a tumult of feelings within Astarion. Her anger and sorrow were palpable, and it confused him why she seemed so affected by his problems which had nothing to do with her.

He'd made an educated guess about the shadows in her past, particularly after her emotional breakdown the previous day when she had asked if he liked her. He knew Nym was sensitive but it seemed to come out of nowhere. At least until she asked if she was more than just a warm body to him, after that, things became clearer: she must’ve gone through something similar to him. Why else would she have broken down that way during such a physically intimate moment?

She was an enigma, appearing self-sufficient and remarkably knowledgeable about various topics, yet almost sheltered and unaware of the typical rhythms of everyday life.

He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt different than the simple pity he'd received thus far. She wasn’t just feeling sorry for him in a way that made him feel weak or patronized; she was standing with him, sharing his burden, even.

The strange and burgeoning camaraderie that he shared with this sweet little druid was proving more fruitful than he had expected, and only after a few days of fighting at her side.

He wondered if the others would come to care for his problems in time as well, and he hoped that they might even help bring an end to Cazador's reign. 

But even so, could they really stand a chance against Cazador? He could show up at camp any day, and Astarion wasn’t confident in their abilities. Consequently, they would—he would—have to stay vigilant until the moment his master ceased to exist. Until then, blind hope was all he had. That, and the tearful Nymsy who was currently watching over him at his bedside as if he were a sick child.

He reached for Nym’s wrist, which was feebly grinding into the blankets. At first, his fingers simply grazed her skin, snapping her out of her fit. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, their shared gaze conveyed more than any words could.

Nym dropped her gaze to weave their fingers together. She smiled, though her eyes looked pained, and squeezed his hand tightly before meeting his eyes once more. Difficult to ignore—an unusual presence fluttered in his ribcage.

As his eyes fixed on her trembling lips, he was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, though he didn’t know why, as the moment didn’t feel sexual like every other time he’d kissed her. It was as if his lips simply yearned to be connected with hers.

With his free hand, he pushed himself up and swiftly locked lips with Nym in a passionate and bruising kiss, unsure if he was rewarding her, or perhaps being capricious.

His entire relationship with her thus far has been a confusing stew of manipulation and lust. When she had asked if they were friends, the question initially perplexed him. 

—Do friends kiss? Do friends sleep with one another? Do friends hope for exclusivity in their relationship?

What they had wasn't mere friendship, but something adjacent, or perhaps more intense, though he'd never admit just how intense.

It seemed like Nym settled into their quickly-developing relationship as if it were second nature to her, Astarion on the other hand, had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that somehow, something would go wrong.

Why did he even care, though? It had only been naught but four days since they'd met on the cliffside; an interaction in which Astarion had threatened Nym's life at knifepoint.

No, there was no way that Nym cared for him deeply enough to want to participate in his plot of revenge, could she?

Nym sobbed, breaking the kiss. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, wiping her tears. “I hope that soon, you feel safe enough to talk about it. I think I have some things I'd like to talk about, too.” Nym took both his hands, gently caressing them with her thumbs.

He was utterly stun-locked, unable to form words—unable to think.

“Um—here.” Nym shifted, pulling her hair away to bare her neck. “I’m still game for our experiment if you are.”

Astarion decided to temporarily set aside his disbelief in favour of Nym’s offer, slipping his mask back on.

“You're too generous, my sweet little druid,” he professed, locking eyes with her. Her fiery gaze held not fearlessness, but bravery. 

She feared him, and it aroused him—not because of her fear, but because she was determined to overcome it and her trust in him, despite occasionally trembling under his touch.

Trembling the way she did now.

And, of course, it did wonders for his ego.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Hush—Relax, darling. I've got you,” he purred, stroking her hair back and ghosting his lips on her throat. Though, he wasn't entirely sure he did have her—if he could keep her alive. 

He wondered why Nym specifically settled on five scrolls, conveniently still placed off the side of the bedrolls. Knowing her, and the bookworm she was, she probably made up some clever calculations and wrote down her hypothesis somewhere.

He may not have trusted himself enough to maintain her heartbeat, but he trusted her enough to know that five scrolls would be sufficient, and it took everything in him to hold back his excitement.

Keeping his face nestled between her head and shoulder, he cradled her head with one hand and placed the other on her waist, gently rotating her to rest comfortably on the bedroll. He pointedly avoided looking at her face, knowing that seeing her grimace with trepidation would make him hesitate—he couldn't afford to squander this opportunity. 

He dovetailed his legs with hers, one of his knees landing between her thighs.

With a dichotomy of shame and eagerness in his mind, he bit down and began to drink hungrily, eliciting a small whimper from Nym. 

As the blood pooled in his mouth and slipped down his throat, he used all of his will to maintain peerless focus on her pulse. He could sense it with his entire being, in the way that he felt its throb on his tongue and the way her ichor gushed rhythmically out of her body and into his like a mycelium network. Not only that, but he could hear it, and feel it on the parts of his body that made contact with her’s. As a result, he could sense the strong, quick pitter-patters that always took place before he’d sink his fangs into her flesh, as well as the slow, weak drumming that it became when she’d had enough.

He could do this, he was confident.

He could sense that she was likely halfway to her limit, and their circumstance was beginning to feel erotic. He hadn’t discerned it earlier due to his inner turmoil, but the way Nym’s precious hand had started to massage his curls while her sun-like heat engulfed him was causing his member to grow hard and heavy against her hipbone.

Refusing to get distracted, he ignored his growing length and shifted his attention to the ambiance of her pulse, and indeed, she’d had enough.

Lifting himself hurriedly, he grabbed one of the scrolls as Nym lay like a ragdoll on her pillow. He couldn't help but glance at her face, to find a sleepy reassuring smile that had painted both her mouth and eyes, charmingly.

Opening the scroll, he smiled too, as he chanted the famed “te absolvo”, curing her impending exsanguination.

Before he could get lost in moral contemplation, he dove back into her in the same position as before, utilizing the puncture wounds he’d previously made. 

—Her flavour is the same as before, except sweeter? Is she becoming aroused as well?

The poor thing, she’d been keeping so still with such desirous little thoughts swimming through her mind. It was unmistakable, but still, he was sure to maintain his resolve as he imbibed.

Again, her pulse slowed and Astarion routinely detached and swiftly used one of their scrolls.

—Three more to go.

He nipped and then sucked at her tender, bruising flesh, taking greedy pulls off her lifeblood until she couldn’t stand to lose anymore, affording himself no time to peer at her expression before hastily using the next scroll.

His length was now painfully hard, and this time, he unbiddenly released an animalistic groan into her as he supped. It was almost becoming more distracting to not be inside her. But he continued to drink, pushing the thoughts away.

Until. . . 

He felt a sudden presence in his mind.

The presence felt simultaneously unknown and familiar, and he sensed he had no choice but to let it invade, as Nym’s pulse was his main priority.

As the folds of his mind slipped open, he felt an overwhelming pleasure surge through his body, accompanied by visions of himself wholly entwined with Nym.

—The tadpole.

Nym must’ve accidentally projected her thoughts into his mind; disruptive, salacious thoughts that felt impossible to ignore. However, the thoughts came and went within a few moments, jolting his attention back to Nym, whose pulse was exceptionally weakened.

“Shit.” He sat up and frantically grabbed the third scroll, chanting the incantation and embuing Nym with its magic. 

This time, Nym coughed, covering her mouth with her forearm as the healing scroll dispelled her daze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Faint?” He attempted to finish her sentence.

She exhaled exasperatedly. “No—I didn’t know that we could do that with the tadpoles. I promise I didn’t try to on purpose,” she exclaimed, rising to her elbows with flushed cheeks.

“I know you didn’t. You’ve been such a good girl.” He crawled toward her, gripping her thigh. “I’m beginning to think this might be better—easier for us both if we capitulate.” He ran his hand up her thigh and to her folds, which he found weeping.

With upward canting brows, Nym parted her legs, bringing her knees up to accommodate his plot. She bit her lip, unsuccessfully stifling a moan as Astarion's mouth descended to her bud.

He inserted a digit, pumping into her languidly before beginning to silkily lap up her clit consistently with his practiced tongue.

Feeling generous due to the enormity of her favour, he thought it best to avoid teasing. He promptly inserted a second finger, stroking her plush inner walls with fervour as he continued his oral worship.

To this, she bucked her hips, but Astarion used his free arm to pin her hips down, halting her movements with his strong grasp without removing himself from her mound.

Nym’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she approached her climax, her body fluttering around his digits. “You’re so good to me,” she slurred between breaths.

His brows knit together at her words. Astarion didn’t feel like he’d been good to her; he felt like a leech, constantly draining her for all she was worth—metaphorically and literally. However, the part of him that hoped to be good enough for her felt traitorous to his entire being.

Was he really using her like he’d been used—subjecting her to his machinations to gain her support? And yet, when that support was passionately given, he couldn’t even accept it. He couldn’t accept that she truly cared, as if choosing to see his own Machiavellianism within her.

His dirty, tainted Machiavellianism.

The sound of her quickened pulse in her inner thigh was relentlessly beating in his ears, pulling him from his rumination.

He flicked her clit a few more times before she came, her pussy quivering around his fingers as her nectar sluiced through her swollen folds. Groaning, he pulled his face from her thoroughly cared-for nethers only to sink his teeth into her inner thigh, all without removing his slowing hand.

She tensed at first, reminding him to hold her thigh instead of her hips. 

He held her closely, forcing her to keep still on his maw as he drank and fucked her with his digits. Opening his eyes, he saw her fist grasping the blanket with white knuckles as she cried out; though Astarion wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure, pain, or both. Nevertheless, he avoided pursuing his dismantling thoughts again—focusing solely on the way her quim felt around his fingers and the way her blood pulsed on his tongue.

Finally, the incessant drumming of her pulse weakened. He abated, unsheathing his fangs before snatching a scroll with one dexterous hand and wriggling his fingers into her spongey sweet spot with the other.

He spoke the incantation hastily, and once she’d been healed, he cavalierly tossed the scroll to the side, discarding it. 

He pulled his fingers out, causing Nym to whine sweetly as she seemed to tremble from trepidation.

“Sh— I know you want to be filled—desperately,” he purred, climbing atop her, caging her between his elbows which rested on either side of her head while he keenly caressed her hair, slicking it back and out of her face. “I'm so very pleased with you, darling—my sweet, experimental little druid.” His last words came out slurred, as if he were drunk.

While he stroked her, she seemed to melt in his touch—all fear dissipating from her demeanour.

Astarion prodded at her hole with his tip before attempting to ease into her slowly; however, he was beginning to feel off-balance. He inadvertently fully sheathed himself as he toppled onto her ungracefully, causing Nym to squeak in surprise.

“Are you okay?” she asked, panting.

“Never better,” he babbled, lifting himself to his elbows again.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt better—he didn’t think a negative thought could cross his mind even if he tried. And he wouldn’t dare to try, lest he risk spoiling the moment.

Growling, he began to rut into her at a consistent pace, noting that she felt much tighter than usual—likely due to the extra blood pumping through his erection, expanding it. 

He watched her face as she frowned in pleasure, her body undulating with each thrust. Her wetness enraptured him, spurring him into a bout of eagerness. His pace became punishing, as he jerked into her with great abandon. 

Nym, in turn, began crying out in pleasure, speaking words in elvish that he didn’t understand nor care to understand as his inhibitions dwindled.

Though, he could feel his climax approaching, and he didn’t want to cum yet.

—Not like this. 

Craning his neck forward, he slowed as he instinctively tried to catch his breath, but he noticed he could only manage to take shallow breaths as if there were less space for his lungs to expand. 

He was a wreck, with his chin covered in Nym’s ambrosia and his body gleaming with sweat. His hair was no different, as it drooped and swayed, wet on his hung head.

He seated his girth within her, trying to avoid his orgasm as he kissed the unsullied side of her neck. Recalling his routine, he brought a hand to the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair and rubbing her scalp tenderly.

“Last one, my dear,” he whispered, only somewhat coherently.

Upon hearing her whimper of assent, he bit into her soft flesh—this time, groaning raucously as he started to roll his hips again, angling them just right within her channel.

He began to feel an odd sensation within his torso, as if his abdomen was tight and uncomfortable, accompanied by the pressure in his chest. His usual post-meal clarity had dissipated; he felt foggy, inebriated—absolutely soused, in fact. 

Nevertheless, he continued making a meal of his cherished woman—

—Or. . . not my woman—the woman that's helping me, or something of that effect. He giggled internally, his smile on her throat.

However, he became frustrated as he approached his precipice unbiddenly once again. Annoyed, he growled, spattering blood and creating a mess which, to his surprise, didn’t make Nym shudder. Slowing his pace again, he snaked a lithe hand to her bud, causing her breath to hitch. Her sex was silken and pert when he began his reverence, circling her nub languidly.

She mewled words of supplication as her body tensed, her hips tilting back. Consequently, Astarion sped up his toying, as he rolled into her with lissom, pacing himself.

Then, he could feel Nym’s body clenching around his member as she came at last, crying his name like a sinful melody.

He applied pressure to her clit, teasingly, causing her to squirm on his velvet hardness and signifying her fulfillment. He always thought it was cute when the overstimulation would make her wiggle, especially when he was inside her. However, he abated, moving his hand to her hips, where he would grip her and rutt into her hungrily—finally allowing himself to chase his own release.

He was sure that Nym’s throat would be adorned in pretty, dark bruises when he was done with her. 

—She’d make anything look good, he thought, fleetingly.

He forced his final gulps as stars began to addle his vision and his pace became ragged. Fire pooled in his abdomen as he snapped his hips into Nym. Unrivalled pleasure rippled through him as he pulsed into her, filling her with his essence. He thrust shallowly as he removed his fangs from her throat, replacing his sharp bite with the flat of his tongue. 

Her pulse was steady, stronger than it usually was after his feedings.

Astarion took his time, caring for her fresh bite with his tongue, followed by his lips which he'd use to kiss her gingerly—tracing a line with them towards her mouth.

His lips connected with hers, but he was dizzy and sloppy. His teeth briefly clicked on hers while he ravished her mouth. Humming into his lips, Nym lithely wrapped her arms around him as she wriggled her hips.

Astarion bestowed one more experimental thrust before pulling out and ungracefully searching for a scroll. His vision was doubled—or tripled, he couldn't tell. He felt heavy as he roamed the side of the bedroll with splayed fingers.

“Where in the hells is the Godsdamned scroll?” He piped, slurring his words.

Nym sighed into a mirth-filled giggle. “You're three sheets to the wind,” she chided.

Astarion swung his torso to see her, but his eyes failed him, as she, too, had an identical pseudo counterpart. The world began to spin around him, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

A twinkling sound and a bluish-white light came from what he thought was Nym’s direction, befuddling him further. He swore he could see Nym approaching when he felt something cold and wet on his forehead.

“Here—lay down. It's my turn to take care of you,” she crooned, holding the back of his head.

Her voice was mellifluous, lulling him into submission as he laid back.

“On your side,” she instructed, removing her hand from his scalp. The object, seemingly ice, disappeared from his forehead for a moment, only to be returned whilst wrapped in cheesecloth or something of that nature.

“Can you hold this here for me?” She inquired.

“Anything for you—hic—darling,” he murmured, a hiccup breaking his sentence.

He fumbled his hand towards the ice, and his fingers brushed on hers before she resigned. 

“How can you be so filled with blood and still be so pale?” Nym asked in a joking manner. “Te Absolvo,” she chanted.

“Ha!” He laughed. “How can you be so kind when I’ve done nothing but—ah,” he hissed, feeling a wet cloth against his member.

“Ope—sorry! It'll be over in just a second.” She continued to wash him, before finding a new cloth to dampen and wipe his face with.

“Alrightalright—I'm not a child,” he protested, attempting to move his face from her torture.

“But you've got blood all over your stupid face,” she retorted.

“Oh, have I now? And who's fault is that?” He asked, garbling and raising a brow as he attempted to look at her. Unsuccessful, he closed his eyes again.

Nym let up her washing and placed the cloths somewhere irrelevant, but likely the hamper.

“Hmm—good question. . .” She paused. “I think the fault lies equally in both our hands.”

“By the Hells—I’m only teasing.” He pouted. “You think I’d actually blame you for that? And after ravishing you, so?” he rasped.

He felt the blanket cover him as the ice he held dripped water down his wrist. 

“Open,” she instructed, and he felt glass touch his lips. 

With a lack of inhibitions, he obeyed, parting his lips and tilting his head back. Whatever potion she was giving him smelt floral, and sharp, but its flavour was dull and slightly bitter; his ability to taste anything but blood was less than keen.

After downing a small amount of liquid, he—surprisingly—started feeling better. Opening his eyes, he saw a slightly blurry Nym, who had thrown on her poncho, smiling at him with adoration.

“Ginger,” she beamed, “one of my fancy druid's tricks.”

He blinked intentionally a few times, clearing his vision fully before sitting up and removing the ice from his forehead. “Thank you.”

Although he remained off-balance and intoxicated, he wasn’t queasy anymore. He recalled the last time he retched; It was after he drank from a rotten rat, the first thing he had eaten for weeks. It reminded him that he hadn't told Nym about Cazador yet, which gave him a sudden urge to spill his most personal secret. 

“You want to know about my master,” he babbled, without a second thought.

“Shh—tell me when you’re not drunk—or—whatever this is,” she whispered while fussing with something in the corner of the tent.

Nym spun to face him, holding a thick, weathered, brown and purple book of blank parchment as well as a piece of charcoal. “So, first of all, how do you feel?” she began her questioning, shimmying eagerly as she sat on her heels.

—Right—the experiment.

Astarion had been enjoying himself so much that he'd forgotten the true purpose of their recently concluded mischief.

“Er—dizzy, but amazing,” he responded, trying to be helpful while rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

Brows knitted, Nym wrote on the parchment like a true specialist. It intrigued him, reminding him of his sister, Dalyria, one of Cazador's spawns who had been a doctor in her mortal life.

“And would you say that you feel full?” She asked.

Pondering his answer, Astarion tried to tune into the feel of his body. He knew his abdomen felt tight and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t quite sure if full was the right word. Additionally, the heavy feeling was becoming less noticeable by the minute.

“When we'd first finished I felt stiff and uncomfortably heavy—but now. . .” he paused, “I am less uncomfortable, I suppose.” His face contorted in confusion.

—Is this what it feels like to be full?

“Ah—so my theory was correct,” she added before putting her book and charcoal down. “Say, for example, I were to drink a broth—that would take approximately forty minutes to pass through my stomach and into my small intestine,” she explained, pulling her poncho to the side and illustrating with her finger on her abdomen. “I hypothesized that blood—if it were similar to broth—would take forty minutes give-or-take to pass from your stomach. So really it must feel like if I were to drink broth; I'd only feel satiated for mere minutes,” she spoke while gesticulating.

—Clever girl.

Nym continued her gleaning, picking up her book and beginning to write something else.

“Why did you think we would need five scrolls?” He prodded.

Still writing, Nym pursed her lips before answering his question. “Well, it was simple, really. The human body contains five litres of blood. Losing forty percent of that blood causes exsanguination, and you could probably stand to lose thirty percent without fainting—do you follow?” Nym asked, checking in.

Astarion held a finger to his chin, and his brows came together as he focused, seemingly becoming less woozy by the minute. He gave her a curt nod, urging her to continue.

“Good. So assuming you also are supposed to have approximately five litres of blood running through your veins, and the average stomach can hold about three litres of volume, and if you account for the fact that my blood that you drank last night is likely coursing through you, then you would need to consume. . .” she paused to write on the parchment.

She flipped her book to show Astarion what she’d written.

5+3-0.5=7.5

5x0.30=1.5

7.5÷1.5=5

5 scrolls for 7.5 litres of blood.

“Of course, it's all just based on estimation and assuming that you slept off around a litre of my blood from last night—which I'm starting to think you didn't. Either that, or your stomach is smaller or you have less space in your cardiovascular system than I'd guessed. There's also the possibility that you drank less than one point five litres last night.” She shrugged. “Oh well—no harm, no foul.”

Astarion was intrigued, however, he noticed that she had failed to make one crucial calculation.

“You've never seen me bleed, have you?” He asked, earnestly.

Nym's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as they frantically darted along the open page of her book. “No. . .”

“I thought not. We haven't been in many battles as of yet. I haven't been injured,” he added.

“Right.” Looking towards him, she nodded in agreement.

“I bleed, too—regardless of whether or not I've eaten. Blood runs through my veins, though how much of it, I don't know.” He shook his head, gazing at the floor. “There's a chance that I have less than a mortal, I suppose. That would explain the lack of colour in my complexion.”

Nym’s eyes widened. Dropping her book, she grabbed her scalp, looking down. “Agh—how could I forget to think of that? Gods, I'm so stupid sometimes.”

Astarion giggled at her dramatism, “It’s okay, but I think I overindulged more than we thought. I started feeling tipsy after the fourth scroll, so perhaps three was enough. It's. . . possible that I couldn't recognize the sensation of being full.”

“Gods—are you in pain?” she asked, pressing her palms into the ground and staring at him, concerned.

“Agh—no. Don't you worry your little head about me. You've already done so much,” he scolded. “Now, quit being so nice to me or I'll have to be nice back.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Nym paused at his words for a moment. “You're already. . . nice to me, Astarion. Did you not know that?” she asked.

—Helpless, stupid, little druid. 

He smiled wryly, condescendingly tilting his head. “I'm joking. Now, what's our plan for the day?” he asked; though, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to move around much yet.

“Oh!” Nym beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly and causing Astarion to flinch in his addled state. “We’re going to visit Auntie Ethel!”

—Ethel? The demented old bag from the grove? he mused. This is going to be fun.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

End notes: I've nothing to say <3 thanks for reading.

[babygorewhore]

Divine Ruler. Kai Anderson smut.

Kai has been so mean lately. But you couldn’t resist him…could you? WARNINGS! Corruption. Use of the word daddy. Slapping. Fingering. Oral! Fem receiving. PnV! Cream pie. Overstimulation. Choking. Mean! Kai.

Okay. Okay. I know! I KNOW I SAID IM TAKING A BREAK! AFTER THIS IS POSTED I SWEAR I AM. BUT I WORKED ON THIS SINCE LAST NIGHT. ENJOY MY LITTLE LAMBS.

You heard the front door slam. Shuffling downstairs, waking you up from deep sleep. Then you heard yelling. You exited the room, hearing the commotion in the basement. As you walked, you overheard Kai screaming at Samuels. “Motherfucker. Don’t you know that you could have ruined this whole thing?” He yelled, raising his hand to slap the man.

“I’m sorry, divine ruler. I was thinking with my dick. Not my brain.” Kai lowered his hand. Changing his mind.

“Get him out of my sight. I’ll deal with him later.”

That wasn’t the last of it.

You were making coffee in the kitchen but you accidentally dropped a cup. It didn’t break but it made a loud noise. Kai slammed his hand down on the counter, right next to you.

“If you’re not more careful, I’m going to lock you in the fucking closet.” He hissed before ripping away from you. You breathed harder.

The next time, you were in the basement sitting on the couch next to winter as he was telling one of his deranged stories. You ached for him. You missed his touch and kisses. You wanted his attention but you were forbidden to speak during these moments.

“And that’s why…men lead. Women bleed.”

“Kai. That’s absolutely cruel.” You couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. Kai froze and so did you. You broke a rule.

“So, this is what you’ve decided to do in front of my faithful men. Disrespect me. Question my words.”

“No. I just think…” you continued.

“What? You think, what?” He growled.

“I just think that’s wrong. Is all.” You finished.

Kai shot up, faster than you anticipated and reached forward, locking his hand around your neck. “Beg. Beg for my forgiveness.” Your eyes widened as he grip tightened.

“I’m-im- I’m sorry.” You whimpered.

“That’s not fucking good enough.” He yelled but he did let go. You inhaled deeply as he sat back down, continuing to share his ideas.

Later, you waited in the bedroom for him. Planning on getting on your knees to apologize. Some sort of contact was better than none. But as the hours grew later, you realized he wasn’t coming to bed. You laid on your side and started crying. You missed him so much. But you didn’t know why. He was distant more than he was affectionate. He was so determined to succeed that you often went neglected.

You sat up and wiped your tears. Set on finding out what was going on with him. As you walked through the house searching, everyone was asleep. You opened the door to his parents room and you saw him sitting beside his mothers corpse. You held your nose and stood at the doorway.

“Kai?”

He didn’t look at you.

“Are you going to come to bed?” You asked him.

“My father wasn’t a good man.” Kai said aloud, as if he wasn’t talking to you. “He was the reason my mother killed herself. He deserved to die. More than her.”

You nodded, enjoying the rare vulnerability he was showing. “It gives me pleasure. To literally see him rot for what he did.” Kai said before standing, letting go of his mother’s skeleton hand.

“Why did you come to look for me?” He demanded.

“Because I miss you.” You sniffled. “I miss you and I want you back.” He looked at you unimpressed.

“As you know, I must bring progress to this movement. I can’t allow my personal feelings to get me distracted.”

“But I’m your girlfriend! Talk to me. Show me how you’re feeling!” You respond desperately.

“How am I supposed to show how pissed off I am without hurting a little girl like you?” He mused and walked closer to you, tilting your chin up. “Just a little precious, innocent girl. Too senseless to walk away from a man as dangerous as me.”

“I’m not senseless. I love you, Kai. I want you.” You leaned forward to kiss him but his hand locked around your jaw. Squeezing it too tight.

“How badly? How bad do you want me?” You swallowed, scared to reply.

“You’re still young…ten years between us. I still have so much to show you.” He whispered, getting closer to your lips.

“Please. Touch me.” You pleaded, ignoring the pain in your jaw. Kai let you go, but his brown eyes impossibly darkened. His hands wrapped in your hair and yanked you against him, his teeth bared.

“Get on the floor. And crawl. Crawl back to the bedroom. And don’t fucking get up until I tell you too.” You nodded rapidly, terrified to disobey. You got on your hands and knees, crawling back down the hall and into his bedroom.

You stopped when you felt his foot, knock you over, making you fall on your forearms. You gasped. “Did I fucking say to move?” Kai barked at you. You immediately returned to your position.

“Fuck. Look at that pretty ass. Should I fuck it? Spread my cum all over you and make you show everyone who exactly you belong too, little girl?” His hand grazed your lower back before he pulled you back by your belt loops.

“Stand up.” He ordered and you did. Like a personal puppet. Your back was pressed against his chest as he leaned down, his nose going against your pulse point. His tongue darted out, licking the warm flesh.

“You taste so good. But I wonder…how wet are you for me?” He shoved his hands in your pants, shoving aside your underwear, his pointer finger gathering your slick.

“You fucking dirty girl. Wet for me when I treat you like a doll. But you like that don’t you?” He shoved his finger in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“Taste that? That’s mine.” He turned you around, his height over yours as he looked down at you like you were pathetic. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.” He spits in your mouth before he nods towards the bed.

“Get on the bed. And spread those pretty legs.” You listened to him with your heart in your throat. You laid on the mattress, still wearing your leggings as you spread your legs, feeling your wetness drip down your legs.

Kai peered down at you, looking bored. “Take off your leggings. I wanna see that little pussy.” Your cheeks flushed as you shimmied out of your pants, exposing your bare lower half.

“Fuck. You’re dripping. Such a bad girl.” Kai kneeled down, flexing his fingers before he shoved two inside, you cried out at the sudden fullness. “Oh. Can you not take it? Are you too innocent for my fingers?” You breathed harder as he pumped inside you. You wanted to touch your clit but you hesitated.

“What do you want? You want me to make you cum?” Kai asked you, you could feel his breath. “I think you’ve been a good little princess for me. I think you deserve a reward.”

His tongue laid flat against your clit. You moaned as he spread you further with his fingers, flicking his tongue as he made out with your pussy. You felt his teeth graze against your walls as you threw your head back. “Kai-“ You shuddered as he replaced his fingers with his tongue inside and started circling your clit with his thumb.

“You know what’s not what you call me. Do you want me to stop?” You shook your head, ashamed at how desperate you were for his touch.

You searched in your head for names he liked. .

“No, daddy. Please don’t stop.” He slapped your pussy. You winced.

“That’s good. Really good. But not what I’m looking for today.”

“D-divine ruler?” You whimpered as he increased his speed. Kai smirked against your pussy.

“Atta girl. That’s right. Say it again.”

“Please don’t stop, divine ruler.” You groaned, getting close to your release.

“Do you want to cum?” He asked, softly running his tongue against your folds.

“Fuck. Please, please, please.” You begged before it hit you. Your warmth spread along his face as you rolled your hips, chasing your orgasm.

You started to settle but Kai lurched forward and wrapped his hand around your neck. “Did I fucking say you could? You always wait until I say you can. And you disobeyed me. Again.” He tapped your cheek with his hand, not hard but enough to get your attention.

“But you said-“ this time. A slap came. Harder.

“Don’t fucking interrupt me.” Kai yanked down his pants, down his thighs and his boxers followed. He pumped his shaft a few times before lining it up with your entrance. “Just for that. You don’t get to touch me.”

“Oh god. Kai wait- I need a minute.” You begged but he slammed inside you, causing you to nearly scream.

Your pussy clenched around him as he thrusted hard and deep inside you. His hand gripped your throat as his other pinned your hands above your head. Keeping you still.

“What’s a soft little girl doing? Being so wet for me.” He groaned against your neck as he pressed sloppy kisses against your throat. You could hardly breathe but you felt yourself getting ready for another orgasm.

“Divine ruler-“ you moaned. Trying to loosen his grip. But he was stronger than you.

Kai settled into a fast and rough rhythm as you both grew close. Your eyes saw stars as you felt yourself break. Kai let out one last deep moan before you felt his cum spill inside you, and you followed suit.

He slid in and out of you, still not removing yourself. You couldn’t bare the overstimulation and you tried to wiggle from him.

“Too fucked to talk?” He asked you, as sweat gathered on his forehead.

“Please…” You pleaded through gasps.

Finally, he released you. Kai shuddered before he pulled out of your slickness. He fell next to you, breathing hard as you tried to collect yourself.

You reached down, sore from him as you saw blood on your fingers. You weren’t a virgin, thanks to Kai several weeks ago. But he still took you so roughly.

“A little blood never hurt anyone.” Kai chuckled. He scooped you in his arms and you curled around his chest. Your legs tangling with his.

Kai stayed silent as you kissed his cheek, allowing you to show him affection as he ran his hand across your arm.

Taglist. @spill-the-t @evanptrss @evanpetersfansblog @randodummy @icannot3

[grxndprix]

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

--

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next—  Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter? 

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!