#necro's fics
Text
"I can take care of myself," the hunter huffs, pushing your hands away from his rain-wettened hair. Droplets fall from the dark locks onto his cheeks, his soaked sleeve doing little to dry the skin there.
You hum, your nose scrunching as your head tilts to the side. Arms go slack, falling from his face and resting to your sides - already accepting that Eden's stubbornness would win. For now.
Evidently, though, you'd 'said' the wrong thing.
"What's that mean? 'Hmm'? You think I can't take care of myself when it's all I've been doing my entire life?" Those dark brows furrow, his lip lifting into a snear. The scars on his face warp with his expression, only furthering the fearsome glare.
Obviously a nerve had been hit. Eden's walls were built high and foundationed deep; most people didn't have a chance of getting over them, under them, or through them. He isn't sure quite when you'd gotten the seige weapons to cleave your path through each layer.
With a small smile, you turn to grab the mop, drying off the trail of footprints your husband had dragged inside. "No, I don't think you took good care of yourself. Not emotionally, anyway."
He doesn't move from his spot, but his face drops. His mouth is agape and his expression undeniably incredulous. "I'm fucking sorry? You want to repeat that?"
The rules of dealing with beasts in the wild varies by species. Some you look in the eye, make yourself bigger. Others will kill you the second your pupils lock, or fly into a rage at any posturing. Your husband's anger is best appeased by an apology (especially if it comes accompanied by a physical reparation).
"I don't think you take good care of yourself, Eden." You choose to stand your ground, throwing a look over your shoulder; your face expressionless while his grew redder from the building blood pressure.
"You never tell me how you're feeling. You never tell my why you're sad when I see it in your eyes. You just bottle everything up so tightly I don't think you recognise why you feel things half of the time until it builds and builds and yet you stay quiet and grow more distant when I'm right here to listen to it all."
His foot shifts, shoulders twitching as his eyes, for the briefest moment, flicker over to the door where the miserable rain waits for him to return. He doesn't have to go back to that cold embrace. He could stay. He could hear what you have to say, just this once.
"I-I'm fine." Yet its plain to see the struggle it takes for him to even say that, brows shooting up, head angling down, eyes widening as he chokes on the words.
"You don't have to be. I won't think any less of you for it. I think it's a very brave thing to admit when you're hurt."
Eden seems entranced by the knots in the wooden floorboards, those water droplets falling now onto his leather boots. "... I don't know how to be anything else."
There's more to say. There will always be more to dig up from Eden's iron-clad past. Instead you put the mop aside and fetch a towel, draping it over your husband's shoulders and guiding him to his favourite chair by the crackling fire as you take off his old boots.
"Just come to me and be honest when things go wrong, or something bad happens in your head. You don't need to tell me details, not if you don't want to. But I still want to hold your hand and kiss your cheek to make you smile." Your fingers thread with his own cool digits, thumbs rubbing over them to encourage warmth to return.
Eden isn't there, though. Not mentally. That far-away look in his glazed-over eyes is accompanied by a slight gathering of tears threatening to pool over his lash-line at any due moment.
Wetness be damned, you join him in his chair, arms encircling the haunted man and pulling his head against your chest. You only breath properly again when you feel his rough hands tightly grip onto you, holding on as though you're the last lifeline at the edge of a cliff.
Perhaps for him you are.
86 notes
·
View notes
Note
zombie ghost and vampire gn reader literally eating each other out of love send message
YOUR MIND !!! you are so fucking real 4 this
!! CW ;; cannibalism ? Question mark ?, I am a bit descriptive w this, usual zombie n vamp stuff, zombie ! Ghost is somewhat sentient ig, self mutilation, I am not sure if this counts as deaddove but it cld so beware, this is honestly shitty as hell since it was rushed out of excitement so beware of tht too lmao. Not proofread. !!
You happily watched as ghost attempted gnawing your arm, his broken jaw slack as his top teeth pressed hard against your cold skin. You cooed at him, petting the top of his head as you watched his attempt at eating you. You were feeling a bit hungry yourself, you realized, the lightheadedness that comes with craving blood coming back as you smiled fondly at the sweet sight in front of you.
“Hungry, are we?” You asked him, receiving a nod and groan. Back when your Ghost was alive, you two would discuss this vaguely, talking about the possibility of consuming each other’s flesh. He dearly wanted to; it felt like the only appropriate way to show his love. It never went past discussion, however. Maybe a few deep bites and cutting each other up to lick up the blood, but never anything past that. You knew how badly he wanted to eat you, and you felt similarly. It was this deep ache, this hunger in you that you feel in your chest, to consume the one you love and have them be a part of you forever and vice versa.
The aching consumed you whole, and you decided that there’s no better time than now.
“Hold on, dear.” You spoke softly to him, watching him pull away from your arm and looking at you with his cloudy eyes. You reached for his knife, the one in his belt, and without hesitation, dug it into your stomach after lifting your shirt. You carved in a circular motion, gritting your teeth in pain as you felt the piercing sting of your muscle and nerves being cut up. He watched intently, groaning occasionally as you finished your job. You dug your fingers into the wound and ripped it off the small piece of skin it was hanging off, smiling at him as your bloody hand reached for his jaw, your other one placing the piece of flesh inbetween his teeth and helping him chew. It was a lovely sight, and an even lovelier feeling. Your fingers caressed his bottom jaw as you loved it up and down for him. Hearing him groan in appreciation was music to your ears.
You carelessly threw his knife to the side. Holding his jaw in place, watching him swallow with slight challenge as he went limp against your shoulder, leaning on it and groaning happily. You went back to petting his head, leaning close to his neck where his throat is and taking a deep breath, the smell of dirt and rot strong on him, making you groan. “Ready?” You said, though you weren’t asking; you were going to do it anyways. You sunk your fangs into the side of his neck where his carotid artery was, feeling the blood gush out of it. It was like nothing you’ve ever tasted before, before you ever sunk your teeth into him you’d known that his blood would be special. It tasted strongly metallic, so strong it was almost disgusting. You could feel the maggots getting sucked out of his artery, and you carelessly chewed them up, feeling the squishy creatures almost explode in your mouth was so disgustingly good. Luckily, the strong taste of his blood covered up the taste of the maggots, not that you would’ve minded either way.
As you got bored of sucking, another idea crossed your head; you sunk your fangs deeper into his neck, hearing him let out a groan akin to a quiet scream as you ripped open he side of his throat with your strong teeth. It tasted horrible and dear god did you love it. His whole weight was practically on top of you, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were sitting down you would’ve fell to the floor. Their was more maggots on his skin than his blood, and you were glad as you chewed the soft, rotting flesh. You felt nauseous from the taste, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You felt it go down your throat slowly, struggling to stop yourself from gagging as it went down.
You were shaking; if there was a feeling shove euphoria this was it. He let out another, quieter groan, nuzzling your neck as you pulled away from his. Kissing the top of his head with your bloody lips, you told him how much you loved him. And although all he did was groan back, you knew he meant to say it back to you. You both were more than just happy at fulfilling this fantasy, you were on cloud 9.
#cod mw2#cod mw ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#🥩.requests#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x gn reader#simon ‘ghost’ riley#ghost x male reader#cod x male reader#simon ghost riley x male reader#simon riley x male reader#cod mw2 x male reader#🥩.short fics#🥩.necro’s faves
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m like 70% into my harrow reread and having a blast, I love harrow, I love how hard she tries and fights, how she’s awful but also doing her best. I love the canaan house redux and as always Augustine & Mercymorn kill me dead forever and always.
Something I love is the parallels of relationships in this series and ESPECIALLY in harrow…Augustine & Mercymorn are a model for Harrow & Ianthe, just as Abigail & Magnus are a model for Gideon & Harrow. This is hinted at in GtN when Gideon mentally steals Magnus’s “pri-married” joke for herself but you really see it in Harrow as Harrow admires and takes interest in Abigail & Magnus’ marriage despite the transgression of it? Which is big “baby gay seeing a gay married couple happy and thriving” energy. I love that Tamsyn still invents a kind of transgressive desire and a type of important relationship to “queer” in this new society where being gay is totally normal. which also makes sense! most necromancers are not going to be squeamish about the body and sex of any kind, but harrow IS, and this is why her distaste for flesh magic is such a lovely layer! God I love these books
#harrow the ninth#harrowhark nonagesimus#the locked tomb#currently#anyway I need to finish my mercymorn & Augustine fic#also man the lyctoral process essentially making a cavalier/necro relationship a huge taboo…even tho it sounds like all of them were fuckin#it’s just really well done#edit this is why I think the coronabeth/ianthe dynamic is extra fascinating bc corona wants to be ianthe’s cav! it’s already incest!#read in 2023
134 notes
·
View notes
Text
♱ 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖓𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖓 ⨾ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞 [ᴠᴏʟ. ᴏɴᴇ]
♱ necrophilia, pussy eating, fingering / 549 words
♱ accompanied by Sam Monroe's Snuff Film Collection
𖦹 note: the cadaver isn't reader.
Sam had always been fascinated by death - the final frontier of human existence. The way life gave way to nothingness was almost poetic. A person lived an entire life full of good, bad, and mediocre, and it all culminated into nothing. This fascination is what led Sam to become a mortician, someone tasked with preparing these husks for a final goodbye. A grand finale, if you will. He found solace in the routine of his job, the quiet presence of the deceased bringing him a sense of peace that was hard to come by anywhere else.
That, and his urges. They weren’t exactly newfound, they’d just been suppressed - but they were stirring up again.
One rainy evening, after the funeral home had closed for the day, Sam found himself with the newest cadaver. The woman had died young, and her beauty seemed to radiate even in death. Her skin was smooth and cool to the touch, her lips slightly parted, and eyes clouded. Sam’s hand came to rest on her breast, trailed down her stomach, and went down to her privates.
His fingers slid over her slit, breath catching as he tries to keep his cool. She was stiff, but looked so incredibly supple. Sam glances up, half-expecting the body to react. To blink, to moan, something. Bringing himself back to reality, he goes and gets a pair of gloves, snapping them on. He moves the gurney from the basin and turns it around, now having more room.
Now standing at the foot of the gurney, he drops to his knees, hands moving her legs apart with the utmost gentleness. He leans in and traces his tongue along the delicate contours of her labia, adrenaline coursing through him. Sam felt helplessly drawn to the cold inanimate flesh beneath him. The more he licked and caressed, the more alive he felt - as if by devouring death, he was able to find life.
Sam’s steady licks escalated into frenzied open mouthed kisses as he delved deeper into the cupped valley between the dead woman’s legs. Each kiss drove him further into a whirlpool of carnal lust, until he was fully consumed and lost to sin. He wondered how she sounded when she was alive - how her moans would bless his ears, how she would tug at his hair and close her thighs around his head. If she was ever satisfied when she was alive how she was right now; in death.
Pausing, he gazes up at the still figure above him, and couldn’t help but imagine the countless coital encounters that once marked the corpse.
He pulls away and stands up, then spits down onto his gloved fingers, lubing them up to the best of his ability. He took a minute to stare down at her - his breathing getting labored and nostrils flaring. She was so ethereal, spread out on a silver human-sized tray like an offering, just for Sam.
Finding her entrance, he buries his fingers into her as much as he could considering she was no longer able to self lubricate. Sam was now knuckle deep into the cold, dry cavern. As if waiting to gauge a reaction, he stares down at her face. But she had the same look she had when he first wheeled her in - dead.
ᝰ.ᐟ @102hannah
#₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ bnuuy's fics!#♱ 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖆𝖒 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖗𝖔𝖊#tw necrophillia#necro#sam monroe#sam monroe smut#sam monroe imagine#sam monroe fanfic#sam monroe fanfiction#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe x y/n#sam monroe x you#life as a house#laah#sam monroe x reader smut#my au#mortician au#૮( ꩜ ㅅ ꩜)ა bnuuy loves sam monroe#mortician!sam monroe
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
What is it about these two freaks that makes me suddenly into every kink I wouldn't normally touch?? Truly nobody pulls it off like them.
#samdean#like cannibalism and necro are one thing#but i read a mommy kink fic last night????#that would normally be a hard no#what the fuck is it with them#wincest#weirdcest#mine
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
your hand in my hand, so still and discreet
“It was about how cold he was under me. How still. It was knowing that even if he had died, even if he was already dead, he would still be mine.”
*
Louis thought he knew each one of his boyfriend’s stories, secrets, and kinks. Turns out Harry was keeping a crucial one hidden away.
Harry / Louis | 4.5k words | E
read on ao3
#Hi. I'll be honest I really love this but given the themes I won't tag any specific blog. I'll just use the generic tags.#1d fanfiction#1d fic#larry fic#Fic recs#larry fanfiction#Ao3#ao3 larry feed#necro#necr0#Myfics#33#Words#Credit for the texts: first one is “a language older than words” by Derrick Jensen#second one is “erotism: death and sensuality” by Georges Bataille#m
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
How Nico becomes the grief of four individuals, but only one of them is his'.
This is, I would say, confusing. Because it's Jasico, but you'll see Nico's grief from the perspectives of Alabaster, Will, Percy and Jason (in that order). You can read each chapter as a standalone too, depends on your preference.
I tried my best, I'm sorry 😭 I don't even know what this fall under since it's a mix between angst, canon fix, and song/lyrics. So, let's consider it free day, haha! Please enjoy!
#jasico#jasicoweek2023#day6#altprompts#jason grace#nico di angelo#alabaster c torrington#alabaster torrington#will solace#percy jackson#pjo#pjo fanfic#my only contribution I'm sorry :<#I can't do Bride of Necro for jasicoweek because it's too dark xD#but yeah have this angst fic LMAO
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey guys I know I said I would have another chapter of Faithless out by today but hooo boy that's not gonna happen. I've been really stressed and dealing with migraines because of it. Writing has been hard, and I've got a bunch of real life things that I'm struggling to get done.
I'm changing my posting schedule to... whenever I can get things done, until further notice lol ;;; sorry peeps.
Don't worry tho I'm still working in Faithless, it'll just be slower for a bit.
Thanks for understanding ;w;
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
lawlu teaser
“I’m starting to think you like it when I hit you,” Law muses after another strike.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Read this fic. Went feral. Decided I needed to write this dynamic in my own way so here we fucking go.
Younger AU (Eden is 19, reader is 18, they're both orphans getting ready to run away into the forest soon).
Male Eden x AFAB reader (they/them and you pronouns).
Warnings: Eden is the victim, its his POV. Dubcon and bad communication. Creampies/breeding. Mentions of past child abuse and the trauma from it. Hurt and only one of you is getting comfort (it's not Eden lmfao). Loss of virginity. My ass did not proofread. Oh, and Bailey mentions.
Every ounce of his body aches as he practically crawls up the main staircase of the orphanage. A twelve hour shift at the scrap yard will do that to you - especially when you're the young grunt everyone knows is desperate for money. Especially when half of them know that if they break him, if he quits and can't placate the caretaker with cash, they could be buying his ass for a few quid.
Eden's a risk to client health. Couldn't be charging much for him unless broken bones were the desired outcome. And the young man had heard enough rumours of illegal fighting rings to be wary of the possibility that he could be heading to one of them, instead.
Eden tries to shake the fears from his mind while cracking his aching neck. Not anymore. He can't be hurt anymore, not now that he's grown so big. The rat that runs the orphanage hasn't beat him in years because of it and any threats are pretty much empty. Toward Eden, at least.
He reaches his room and stumbles through the threshold yawning, almost missing the shape distorting his bedsheets in the dark. His heart doesn't speed up seeing it, the dark haired man barely even flinches. He already knows what it is, can already hear the sniffling whines coming from below.
Carefully, he pushes the door closed, the click of the lock what finally gets them to scramble out from the cheap polyester-blend sheets with wettened wide eyes that scream for mercy even though no harm has come to them.
Your name is soft on his lips as he holds his arms out, letting his friend fall against him as he steps closer. Pride building within himself as those wide eyes sparkle with relief even if the tears don't stop.
"They- they took Emma a-again," you hyperventilate, struggling to describe what had worked you up so badly. Little words were needed anyway.
Emma was situated in the room beside you. A good friend, a kind friend who shared whatever food she could, when she could. A friend who had barely lived through the last time she was sold.
Eden's large hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it delicately, urging it to rest against his chest as he hushes his dear friend, his sweaty work t-shirt absorbing your tears as they fell. Usually he'd rock you side-to-side, but with your legs still kneeling on the bed he instead kept up with his calming mantras, the assurances he must have muttered a thousand times.
He wasn't good with words, but he'd said these ones enough that they came naturally.
A thousand more times he'd repeat them if he had to. At least until he could get you out of here. He'd been searching for the right place out in that forest, searching hard for somewhere safe. Anywhere safe.
"They're going to take me soon," you whimper, voice cracking as your fingers claw at Eden's clothed back.
"Hey - hey, no. No they won't, I'm not going to let that happen. Me and Bailey both, yeah?"
Your pitiful eyes stare up into his, his reflection in them showing the concerned frown etched into his features. Still, the corners of your lips quiver as you continue.
"I just turned eighteen. He'll come for me soon; he'll come for me like he did everyone else."
It had always been the three of you. Him, Bailey, you. Two older brothers with their sweet little sibling they did their best to hide behind them. It had worked, so far.
You were one of the quiet ones. One of the kids who could fly under the radar, one who didn't inspire hatred from the old toad behind the desk. Unlike Eden and Bailey. The threat of being sold had been over their heads for a year - but the beatings had started way before then. Made them much less scared than the others who were moved to this wing. They were already numb to it.
Corraling you to lay back down doesn't take much effort, not when Eden kicks off his steel-toe boots and joins you on the lumpy mattress. Your head immediately rests on top of his chest, face nuzzling against his neck as he continues to let you treat him as your lifeline.
"We won't be here long enough for him to hurt you, alright? I'm going to keep you safe." He whispers it against the crown of your head, your little secret shared just between the two of you in that moment.
There's a non-committal hum from you, the sound making your lips brush softly against the column of his throat. It tickles, and the dark haired man ignores the shiver it sent down his spine. Just an accidental brush.
A silence creeps in while he holds you, your sobs calming until your breaths are mostly even though still a bit shaky. Each puff blows against his skin, tugging on his nerves and threatening another shiver to come forth. It makes his stomach heavy, knowing that you're here, you're upset, yet he's having this horrible involuntary response to the affection shared.
His mind being so lost is what makes him miss your hand inching down his chest until its cupping his half-hard cock through his pants.
Deathly silence. Silence that prickles his skin worse than your little breaths had.
"... I don't want someone taking my first time from me," your small voice strains.
It's clumsy, how your hand palms him. Clumsy how it rubs against him, the friction of his rough clothes unpleasant against his sensitive flesh. It should be unpleasant how its you doing it, yet another shiver stutters Eden's lungs and forces him to gasp for the missing air.
Those soft, sweet lips meet his throat again, playing ignorant to the scratchy stubble that has to irritate the thin skin - Eden's involuntary gasp seemingly being taken as encouragement.
The young man isn't good with words. He knows to curse out abusers. Knows to fight back, to snarl and kick and punch. You aren't an abuser. You're just scared.
"You love me, right Eden?" Reedy is how you sound as your head lifts, peering down into his green eyes you had once said you thought were a pretty shade. He hadn't believed you then.
Something should be coming out of his throat. Something like 'Yes, I love you. But not like this.' What comes out instead is a clicking noise when your palm presses down once more, the dark haired man's eyes blinking shut as an ounce of pre-cum wets his boxers.
Clothes shuffling calls for his attention, it opens his eyes enough to see your hand sliding below his waistband and into his underwear. All he needs to do is gently grab your wrist. Carefully pull it away and just cuddle you so you know he cares, but he doesn't want this. Eden can't really feel his arms right now.
Your pink little tongue wets your lips again before you lean over him, kissing his slightly chapped ones as your hand finds its mark.
Another gasp from him, another misread response you take as permission to keep going and to flick your tongue against his own while your fingers wrap about his now pitifully hard cock. It's not a shiver this time, it's a jolt that makes the muscles in his left thigh seize for a brief moment.
It's hard to say if you're doing good. He hasn't exactly had any positive experiences in this department, regardless of if he was sold or not. It feels good. The heaviness in his stomach deepens, a sense of guilt and nausea rising in tandem.
Slick noises register in his ears. For a second Eden thinks its himself, or perhaps the kiss he isn't really participating in. It isn't, though, not if your weak moans are anything to go by. It's you, your free hand having disappeared beneath your own pants to... to prepare yourself for him.
"You're so big, Eden." Irreverent, whispered, praised.
Tightness pulls on his balls, licks of pleasure making his toes curl in their socks and making it harder to breathe. His mouth is so dry now, without you kissing him. He shouldn't want your mouth back on his own.
'Please be bored,' Eden pleads to himself when you pull yourself fully away from him. 'Please change your mind - I don't care about still being hard. I can't say no to you, please.'
Instead, your pants are shucked off, thrown and discarded on the old hardwood floor along with your shirt as you get to work pulling his clothes off.
Every action has to be involuntary. It has to be, when Eden doesn't even feel like he's here. He can't be leaning up to help you in your quest to make his chest bare. But he is. He can't be raising his hips to free his legs of the clothing. But he is.
Unsteadily, your body shaking, you climb atop Eden, the plush of your thighs pressing down onto his lower abdomen and hips. So soft, so precious. Just like the smile you're aiming down at him, that love you spoke of shining so clearly through your expression.
He can see the wetness of your cunt from here, the slick liquid having spread to your thighs and dampening the hair down there. Most people shave now, when they're expecting things like this. A small comfort, that you didn't plan this. It didn't stop self hatred banging around his skull at how his cock jumped when your fingers spread your lower lips apart.
It feels as soft as it looked when you slowly sink down. Eden was still paralysed, despite the intensity of your heat and how it suctioned him in. He still couldn't move. Until you whined in pain and rose from his lap an inch or two.
That's the trigger that gave him his strength back. You, in pain. You, needing comfort.
Shooting up from his laying position, Eden's arms were around your waist in a second, his voice back to hushing and comforting. Your face back to his neck as you hummed along to his words, relaxing once more as you tried again.
He should stop you. He could have stopped you, this time. He shouldn't have pushed his hips up, shouldn't have let his eye twitch at how fucking good you felt wrapped around his shaft as some part of his brain screamed at him to fuck up into the heaven he found himself in.
The guilt stayed his movements. It stayed them until you cautiously began to bounce, used to the stretch of him now and eager to feel good. Then, Eden's arms almost crushed you against his chest, halting your hips as his own began a bucking rhythm.
'Let it feel right,' part of him insisted, raising the pit in his stomach to a calm plateau.
Pretty is what your voice sounds like in his ear. Pretty as you babble on about how nice it is, how he fills you just right and how you won't let anyone else ever touch you again. How you're his, you promise.
It's not a bad thing, right? It just means you'll always need him, just as you have before. You'll be a constant even as things change. And Eden hates change. But this isn't really change, is it?
It feels too damn good to last long. Too great, too much suction pulling his head further and further away from any semblance of reason.
Wanton noises spill from you, high pitched keening as you take every inch of him you can while your body quivers in his embrace.
What finally pushes Eden over the edge is the predictable, suffocating ever tightening walls of your cunt spasming around him - massaging his length and milking him dry of his seed. Too late now to realise you hadn't used a condom. Too late now to consider that a third might be coming to the forest with them that isn't Bailey.
Exhaustion hits him like a truck, not just his body, but a deep haze over his mind that pushes him back down to his pillow with your sweat glistening body falling on top of his own. The ceiling is so bare. Most ceilings are, he realises, just white voids to stare up at unless they've got that horrible popcorn shit on them. You haven't pulled him out of you.
You don't pull him out of you. You keep him there, even as you snuggle close and almost sing your love to him despite the fact that you're whispering still.
He has work again in the morning. Eden can't sleep. You snore softly, resting on top of him. He tries to reason that it's because his socks are still on, and that's just not comfortable. He tries to keep his breathing calm, even when it's trying it's best to run away from him.
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
most of my frapru posting thus far has been like, relatively normal grounded historical stuff (avec some nursing and breeding kink, admittedly) which only makes me mildly nervous that I'm going to be alienating people when I eventually get to the actually weird stuff and literal monsterfucking at some point
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
is it a good April fools joke for me to post the outline of the fic I'm definitely probably not ever going to finish
#I'll have a chunk of it written tho#cant post it cuz it'll be missing literally the entire context of the fic cuz the part i did is in the middle#good job me#i forgot to add it but theres a necro moment during the he be bleating part#val breaks al's neck and then just#......keeps going??? hes a freak what can i say#my fav part is the doomed by the narrative joke lol#al: *victims blames*#al: *becomes a victim* whoops#ALSO THE OMINOUS (for now) IS SO FUNNY TO ME#anyway#fic idea#fic wip#my writing#hazbin hotel#valastor
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soap:
Price:
Necro:
Ghost, in full cowboy attire: what's everybody looking at
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
found some of my old unfinished Murder by numbers fanfics… i was lowkey cooking a little
#(two screenshots are from two different fics lol)#first one was just a rewrite whilst the second was a. necro one shot#whoops#tw gore#just in case
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE FREAK SHIT DISCORD SERVER
See What Your Insides Look Like
Fandom: My Chemical Romance
Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Gerard Way/Mikey Way, Frank Iero/Gerard Way/Mikey Way, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape, Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Gut Fucking, Murder, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
4.9k
Summary:
The expression on his brother’s face is delicious, scared and aroused, impressed and horrified. He knows Gerard wants this, knows that his brother is mentally going over the options, knows that he’s done the right thing.
“Mikey, that’s- that’s freak shit!” Gerard’s voice is nearly a yell, but he’s not walking away, he’s not slapping Mikey or calling the cops, he stays nailed to the floor, hand still on Frank’s face, he wants this.
#happy birthday to the server <3#it has been so much fun to be around other freaks and to step out of my comfort zone and be social with strangers!#i hope everyone likes this fic and that its freaky enough :P#read the tags on ao3 theres more of em over there#waycest#fraycest#mikey way#gerard way#frank iero#.violence#.nsft#necro#dddne#bootlegfrnk fanfiction
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
happy holiday exchange to @necro-nova!! in my family we were always allowed to open one present on christmas eve, so I thought I’d post today-- I hope you enjoy!
The mounds of bright, soft snow sort of looked like they could be clusters of huddled rabbits, but none of them were Lan Yuan tramped through the drifts, which came up past his knees once he strayed off the path, until he was feeling both flushed and shivery, overheated from working so hard just to walk around and cold from his very wet robes. But he couldn’t give up.
When the snow first started to fall, the oldest juniors all came carefully around and make sure the youngest juniors in the dormitory, too young to have formed golden cores, had an extra blanket. Someday, Lan Yuan knew, he would have a golden core, and this would make him strong and keep him warm and he’d be able to fly. But he didn’t have one yet and neither did the rabbits-- they’d never have one at all, probably, because some animals did learn to cultivate but it wasn’t like what humans did (said Hanguang-jun). So who was going to bring the rabbits blankets to stay warm? Well, it would have to be Lan Yuan.
He adjusted the pile of blankets in his arms so he could wipe his face with his sleeve. Where were they? But of course-- the realization came to him all at once, and he felt very silly indeed. The way to lure the rabbits was to sit very still. Hanguang-jun had told him that, too. He carefully cleared a place on the ground for the blankets so they wouldn’t get too wet, then sat down himself and settled in to be patient and quiet, like he’d been shown.
Once stopped moving, it got cold pretty fast.
But he had to be patient. He--
“Lan Yuan?”
He was almost too cold to startle at suddenly hearing his name, and was definitely too slow to get to his feet and bow, having realized who the voice belonged to. He tried to express the proper greetings to Grandmaster Lan, so he wouldn’t be in trouble for failing to show respect to an elder and wandering off alone, but his frozen lips wouldn’t move right.
“What are you--?” he cut himself off. He sounded cross, and looked cross too. Lan Yuan tried to shrink in on himself, like maybe being smaller would make Grandmaster Lan forget he was there. “Come, come.”
He swept his arm out and all but enveloped Lan Yuan in his trailing sleeve. Lan Yuan wanted to protest and collect the blankets, but he couldn’t move fast enough, and Grandmaster Lan was ushering him away. He wasn’t sure where they were going, except it definitely wasn’t the juniors’ dormitory, and it wasn’t the courtyard where punishments took place, either. They were moving so quickly, the rush of the air felt so cold against his robes and cheeks, Lan Yuan decided not to think about it too hard.
Grandmaster Lan bundled him up some steps and into a house Lan Yuan had never seen before. It looked just like all the others, but he’d never been inside this one. They were barely in before Grandmaster Lan shut the door and started briskly stripping off Lan Yuan’s wet outer robes. Lan Yuan stood dutifully still, wondering if this was prelude to a punishment, but it just seemed to be prelude to being handed a new outer robe that was much too big and being told to wrap himself up and sit down. So Lan Yuan did what he was told, bundling into the plain, oversized robe and taking an obedient seat at the nearby table.
This was, he realized suddenly, probably Grandmaster Lan’s house. What else would it be? It was clearly somebody’s-- he could get a glimpse of a bed behind the screen in the room beyond-- and Grandmaster Lan wouldn’t just take him to somebody else’s house. Probably.
Grandmaster Lan reappeared, now with tea. He carefully poured it and nudged a cup towards Lan Yuan.
“Drink slowly,” he said sternly. That was an easy command to obey: just the feeling of the warm cup in his hands was so nice. “What were you doing out there?”
Lan Yuan was rarely in trouble himself, but he’d seen Lan Jingyi get caught doing things enough times to know how this went. He bowed over the cup. “This disciple has broken the rules.”
“Indeed,” said Lan Qiren. “But Lan Yuan has not answered the question.”
“Oh! I...” He looked down into his teacup. “Nobody was going to bring the rabbits a blanket.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He still sounded mad. Lan Yuan took a breath so that his nervousness wouldn’t make him fidget.
“I mean... it’s cold out, in the snow. All the juniors got an extra blanket, but how can the rabbits be warm?”
Grandmaster Lan didn’t say anything for a moment or two. Then he cleared his throat and poured more tea into Lan Yuan’s cup.
“The rabbits have fur,” he said. “They also have burrows. They may be overly accustomed to being fed by humans, but they have what they require to survive.”
“Oh!” Lan Yuan felt like a too-tight belt had been unloosed from around his middle, like he could breathe properly again, even though he hadn’t really realized he couldn’t breathe right before. “That’s good! I wanted to bring them a blanket.”
“Your... intentions were kind,” said Grandmaster Lan. “But unlike a rabbit, you do not have what is required to survive sitting alone in the snow. It was reckless of you, and you must not do it again.”
“Yes, grandmaster.”
Grandmaster Lan nodded. He still looked grumpy, but he seemed to be satisfied. “Stay here until your outer robes dry, you are prone to colds, I am told. Then I will walk you back to the dormitory.”
“Thank you, grandmaster.”
Grandmaster Lan nodded again and stood up, turning away to go check on Lan Yuan’s robes. As he turned, Lan Yuan thought he heard him say-- it made no sense, but he thought he heard him say-- good boy.
21 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
keirashark
Keirashark
elodiekowalski
ELODIE KOWALSKI
caretaker-of-the-toys-au
Critter Caretaker
dailyinteriordesign
Daily interior design
itsrimmi
Untitled