#✚ | ❝ as i danced with the dead my free spirit was laughing and howling down at me ❞ { aesthetics } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverzoomies · 10 months

Text

Only Me

kyle spencer x reader smut

warnings: dubious consent, biting, kissing, shameless smut, undead kyle, zombie sex, zombie kink, halloween, song lyrics, dead dove: do not eat

word count: 6,205

a/n: hiiii !! halloween fic in june !! lol this one's my most bizarre fic yet probably !! i made kyle a lot more zombified than he was in the show !! if you're squeamish about corpses and wounds and stuff, i wouldn't tread any further !!

apologies for the usual: inconsistencies, characters ooc (kyle's a little more instinctive/aggressive here), clunky writing, etc etc etc

taglist: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz (as usual, ask to be added !!)

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A full moon shined in a bright, stunning spectacle, high above Miss Robichaux’s Academy. A striking contrast to the black skies of a particularly cool Halloween night. Shrouded in a veil of evening darkness, the old-fashioned academy emitted an otherworldly glow. From the first floor windows, flashing lights of slime green and hellish orange flickered in endless repetition.

Inside, a small group of young witches danced. Dressed in their skimpiest costumes, they moved fluidly to the beat of Oingo Boingo’s Dead Man’s Party. Blaring loudly through a large set of speakers, the tune mingled with the girls’ laughter. Meanwhile, the older women of the academy socialized near cluttered snack tables. They chatted away with each other, paying no mind to their free-spirited students.

Dead Man’s Party.

An ironic song, you thought. Given the only ‘dead’ man in the room seemed beyond confused. You wondered if he even knew what the purpose of a party was. His Frankenstein brain might’ve forgotten parties entirely. Such a concept was also ironic. Considering, when he was alive, Kyle had attended enough frat parties to keep the beer industry thriving for years at a time.

The ancestral room felt alive with energy. You stood in a corner with your back against the wall, sipping overpriced punch Myrtle Snow had prepared herself. An unamused look crossed your face, as you watched Zoe and Madison dance. Their movements were effortless and intentionally suggestive.

Between them, looking out of place and somewhat lost, was Kyle. The zombified blond was hunched over in his loose-fitting flannel shirt. And his expression spoke of someone who had no idea what was happening around him. Unlike everyone else in the room, he hadn’t worn a costume.

Poor guy. It seemed like no one had warned him ahead of time.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, as Madison and Zoe grinded their thin figures against Kyle. The indecent movements of their dancing were almost unbearable to watch. And you couldn’t help but recoil at the sight. The girls glared at each other, trying to outdo the other in a shallow competition for Kyle’s attention.

As Kyle stood there, he kept his head tilted down. His curly, blond hair fell into his face, and his eyes were blank and empty. Kyle must have been oblivious to the girls’ intentions. You felt a pang of discomfort in your chest at the thought.

“Jeez…it’s like I’m watchin’ a car crash in real time…and I can’t look away…” You said, sipping your punch.

Queenie, dressed in a dingy, striped sweater and a Freddy Krueger cap, leaned casually against the wall next to you. Her sweater fell loose off her shoulder, leaving it bare. She sipped her punch as she laughed, her Kreuger claws resting on her hip. Oingo Boingo echoed in the background, competing with the sound of her voice as she spoke.

“Those two are a wreck if I’ve ever seen one.” She joked, shaking her head, “Somebody’s gotta get in there and save that poor guy. Dude looks miserable. ”

“How pissed do you think they’d be if I cut in?” You asked. Glancing down at the lacy hem of your dress, you toyed with it idly in thought.

The pounding music in the room seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Danny Elfman’s wavering voice echoed, booming throughout the floor.

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walkin’ with a dead man, with a dead man

Your ruby red slippers twinkled on your feet. You wore an (admittedly) revealing Dorothy of Oz costume, with a blue dress lined with white lace. The skirt barely reached past your thighs, showing off your legs in thin, white stockings. You clutched a decorative picnic basket, with a plush, scottie dog sticking his head out from inside. His beady eyes shined in the party lights.

“You’d be doin’ Kyle a favor if you did. But, girl, I dunno…” Queenie pushed herself off the wall, “You know those two ain’t messin’ around. They’re feral over him. Listen, whatever you decide to do? It’s your funeral. We’ve all seen what happens when Madison loses her shit.”

Queenie sauntered off then, her hips swaying with each step. She joined Nan on the dance floor. And you let out a sigh, knocking your head against the wall. After watching Zoe and Madison’s shameful display for a few moments longer, you decided enough was enough. You pulled your phone from your basket to check the time. Only 6pm.

Gracing your ears in tune with the catchy beat of the song, Danny Elfman’s voice rang out.

Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

If your hunch was correct, neighborhood trick-or-treating had only just begun. And even though you and Kyle were well into adulthood, the thought of indulging in such an innocent, nostalgic activity was too enticing to resist. Halloween was a holiday wherein Kyle could blend in with the general population. And if you accompanied him, he’d finally get some reprieve from the constant objectification he was accustomed to. It was a win-win.

You waited a few more minutes, hoping the two girls would eventually tire of their petty competition. As time passed, Madison finally stumbled off in her heels. Presumably to have a smoke out back. Queenie, ever the helpful friend, pulled Zoe away for a dance. Leaving Kyle free of anyone’s clutches. Seizing your chance, you immediately stepped in. And you lead him upstairs to your room.

It took around ten minutes for the two of you to finally leave the academy for trick-or-treating.

Five minutes to patiently explain your plan to Kyle, trying your best to help him understand. And another five minutes to help him get ready, after struggling to clarify what Halloween was to begin with. You asked if he wanted to dress up in a costume.

Kyle’s only response was a simple, slurred-

“W-Woooooolf.”

He then made an awroooo sound in an adorable attempt to mimic a wolf’s howl. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen Kyle do. And hearing him make such a precious sound instantly melted your heart.

You took the time to chat with Kyle. And you joked that if you’d known ahead of time he wanted to be a wolf, the two of you could have coordinated costumes. Perhaps you could have gone as Little Red Riding Hood, and him as the big, bad wolf. Even though you weren’t sure if Kyle understood the reference, he gave you the sweetest smile nonetheless. In his undead eyes, you saw a sparkle of lingering humanity. You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart melt just a little more.

Carefully guiding Kyle to the bathroom, you brought him in front of the mirror. Using a dark, eyeliner pencil, you drew a big, black dot on the tip of his nose. Then, with a steady hand, you doodled adorable, cartoon whiskers on his cheeks.

Which, in retrospect, made him look more like a cat than a wolf.

But Kyle seemed delighted with his new appearance regardless. He held his big hands up in front of the mirror, curling his fingers into claws. Kyle faked a snarl, scrunching his nose and showing off his pink-tinted teeth. The teeth of a dead man.

To your own surprise, you managed to sneak Kyle out of the academy without a single hitch.

For the next few hours, you lead him around a local neighborhood. As the two of you made your way down the street, you marveled at the eerie decorations at every house. Politely, you approached each doorstep, excitedly proclaiming, “ Trick-or-treat! ” while holding Kyle’s hand loosely in yours.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to mind that you two were well past the necessary age for trick-or-treating.

You stopped to explain the concept of Halloween to him once more, after he struggled to understand what trick-or-treating was. He furrowed his blond brows, as though deep in thought. Kyle made a frustrated grunt in response. You couldn’t help but smile, finding his confusion…strangely endearing. Everything about him was endearing, really.

Despite his initial confusion, Kyle definitely enjoyed the candy aspect of Halloween. The treats. His opaque eyes lit up with glee, and he held his pumpkin bucket up in front of you like a fabulous prize. You cheered him on, showing off your basket overflowing with goodies.

A thick mugginess in the air felt sticky against your skin. As the hour grew later, the air shifted to a sharper, colder chill. Crisp, autumn leaves fluttered in the breeze, twirling in colorful circles along the road. The once charming decorations at every house now appeared all too creepy in the dark. Illuminated only by a combination of moonlight, and the occasional streetlight; the neighborhood appeared desolate and empty. You wrapped an arm around yourself for security and warmth.

Perhaps it was time to return to the academy before things got any spookier.

Kyle loomed in close proximity to you all night. And as the hours passed, he leaned in even closer. Part of you began to question your assumptions about him. Perhaps you had misjudged. Maybe Kyle appreciated the constant attention Zoe and Madison gave him back at the academy.

His craving for physical touch was obvious. Every time you tried to create some space between the two of you, he pressed himself against you again. It became clear then, physical intimacy was something Kyle wanted on an almost constant basis. And given his limited communication skills, you figured he had no other way of expressing such a need. He stuck to your side like glue, walking with you throughout the cold, dark neighborhood.

You were reminded of that Oingo Boingo song. Dead Man’s Party.

I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walkin' with a dead man, with a dead man

Ooh-ooh, waitin' for an invitation to arrive

Ooh, walkin' with a dead man, with a dead man

Despite his proximity, Kyle’s body provided you with no warmth. You were left plagued by the nightly chill in the air. And out of nowhere, Kyle groaned, sounding displeased about… something. You didn’t know what. Worried it was your fault, you moved to give him more space. Kyle appeared even more annoyed then. He choked on words he couldn’t say. And you stopped in your tracks on the sidewalk. Gazing at him with concern in your eyes, you tried to deduce what the problem was.

“Hey, K-” You started.

Before you could ask him, Kyle reached out a hand. He stared down at you with black, cloudy eyes. Between his pale, grey lips rested a half-eaten candy bar. His fingers were covered with sticky chocolate. And he made a move to pull the collar of your low-cut dress down.

“Oh! Wh-...Kyle!! What are you doing, honey?!” You shrieked in hushed surprise.

At that moment, something must have clicked in Kyle’s Frankenstein brain. Some kind of instinctive shift.

Even though he loved his candy, chocolate wasn’t necessarily the kind of Halloween treat he wanted. He pulled the chocolate bar from his lips, tossing it aside into the grass.

“Treeeaat…” He slurred, with his pale, chapped lips coated in chocolate. Kyle tugged the front of your dress down even lower, “Tr…tr-trick…or treeeat?”

Your breasts almost popped out from the force of his strong tug. The swell of them bounced in a mesmerizing display, looking supple and smooth. Smears of chocolate stained the clean, white lace of your dress. Gasping, you backed up before Kyle could do anymore damage. You stumbled on your sparkling, ruby slippers. As you struggled to find your balance, Kyle eagerly followed. He pushed his strong body against yours, leaning down to kiss you.

“Kyle, no! N-Not that I mind, if this is what you want! But…can you at least wait until we get home, bud?” You protested, bringing a hand to his mouth to stop him.

You were fearful of any late-night passerby catching the two of you in such a compromising position. Kyle knit his brows together, put off by your rejection. You gave him a sympathetic look, and lowered your hand.

Whatever you said before, none of it registered. Kyle abruptly attacked your neck with his mouth, and you sucked in a sharp breath. His lips were frigid and cold against your skin, their rough, chapped texture scraping across your neck. Reveling in your taste, he hungrily swirled his cool, slimy tongue.

“Honey, no-...s-stop! You can’t-” You pathetically whined, patting him repeatedly on the shoulders to get his attention.

Kyle devoured your neck like a Halloween treat, sloppily tonguing your smooth, warm skin. You squirmed as he wrapped his thick arms around you tightly, pulling you closer. The entire weight of Kyle’s body pressed itself into yours. Dead weight. You lost your balance again, stumbling backwards. And without meaning to, you slipped off your feet behind a nearby lining of bushes.

Taking a tumble, Kyle came down with you. He immediately took advantage of your vulnerable position on the ground, crawling over your body. Even as you continued to protest, Kyle’s attention returned to your neck. He nipped at your skin, flicking his sticky tongue in a desperate thirst for more of you. Underneath your body, you felt dewey grass seep wetness into your dress. You squirmed again, hesitant to give in to Kyle’s reckless desire.

“Pleaaaase! Just let me-...Kyle, please, help me up, won’t you?” You begged in a desperate plea.

He groaned a throaty noise into your soft neck, and his hands began to explore your body. Fighting to maintain your dignity, as well as your modesty; you made another move to push Kyle off of you. Your hands pressed hard at his thick shoulders, but he refused to budge.

“I’m serious! If you wanna do this together, we can, okay? Just…not here! This is…it’s a neighborhood, right? What if someone sees?? Let’s just wait until we get home, please?” You insisted, “Kyle, p-

Unexpectedly, he cut you off (or shut you up, rather) with a surprise kiss.

Lips of a muted, grey hue collided with your own, more saturated ones. A kiss of life and death. Kyle’s lips were ice cold, molding effortlessly with your warmth. He tasted of a bizarre mix between cheap, dollar store chocolate and…something else you didn’t recognize. Something almost…earthy.

He was the sloppiest kisser you ever locked lips with. Prodding at your lips fiercly with his tongue, Kyle demanded entrance. When you didn’t let him in, a frustrated growl vibrated through his mouth. His hand darted down to your chest, where he tugged the front of your dress with an even stronger pull. Threatening to rip it apart, as though he knew you would protest.

You opened your mouth with a surprised squeak, scrambling to pull Kyle’s hand away.

That oozy, freezing tongue of his slithered its way past your lips like a wiggly leech. Thick and slimy in your mouth. Kyle’s kisses became filled with a wild and unrestrained passion. Even though such a messy makeout session would be off-putting to anyone else, you found yourself melting into it. Despite having no concept of restraint or consistency, Kyle’s lack of skill was somehow intoxicating. You were irresistibly drawn to his discolored, dead man tongue.

You couldn’t help but think of how you always admired the way he looked.

When he was alive, Kyle was undeniably stunning, and so gorgeous. He had one of those beautiful, sunshine smiles, and golden hair to match. But after his resurrection, he was viewed as somewhat of a monster. Since the initial work done to bring him back had been less than subpar. To the average person, Kyle looked like a walking corpse pulled straight out of Night of the Living Dead.

However, Kyle’s zombified appearance did nothing to deter you. In death, you found him attractive in about a million other, more forbidden ways. Perhaps you were a bit of a freak behind closed doors.

And now, you had the opportunity to appreciate Kyle, in all his reanimated glory. Allowing yourself to explore his bulky, undead form. Corpse-like in appearance, Kyle’s body seemed right on the cusp of decay.

Maybe you could indulge in your curiosity and unconventional attraction…for just a few minutes. A moment or two wouldn’t hurt. Kyle was obviously desperate for the attention anyway. It was almost cute, really. The way he fought so hard to fool around with you.

Yeah. A few minutes of teasing touches. And then, you’d surely head back to the academy together.

You hesitated to touch Kyle intimately at first, careful not to cross any personal boundaries.

You knew Kyle harbored strict boundaries somewhere in that Frankenstein brain of his. Misty had told both you and Zoe all about it. Though, none of you had any clue where such boundaries originated. Was Kyle somehow self conscious? Did his instincts operate on a more intense, animalistic level of fight or flight? There wasn’t any way for him to tell you, and you’d never be able to guess on your own. Best to tread lightly.

Kyle loomed over you, guzzling your lips and tongue like a hungry man starved. Raising a hand, the tips of your fingers took a careful chance. They brushed across the poorly sewn stitches in his neck. Grazing his prominent scars, you traced their irregular lining.

You were afraid he might recoil, but Kyle instantly melted into your touch. His shoulders fell slack for a moment, and he moaned a soft, little whine into your mouth. It was as if tracing the scarred etching of stitches brought him some sense of relief.

A trail of thick, gooey saliva connected your tongues, as Kyle pulled his lips from yours. He gazed down into your eyes with a soft expression. The cute dot you'd drawn on his nose was slightly smudged now, along with those kitty wolf whiskers. You noted the way his hefty form looked, illuminated by a faint blanket of warm, yellow light. The street light flickered from above, as if threatening to abandon the two of you in the dark.

You stared back into Kyle’s foggy eyes. They were somewhat empty of humanity, with black pupils blown wide. His brawny chest became exposed, as you unbuttoned the thick flannel of Kyle’s shirt. Trembling fingers felt across his pecs, your skin burning hot against Kyle’s lifeless cold. He shuddered under your touch, arching his back slightly.

“W-Waaarm.” He slurred, “Mooore…”

Patches of discoloration decorated Kyle’s broad torso. They reminded you of a tropical desert map. One in which Kyle’s pale skin was the desert sand. Portions of his flesh had turned yellow in color. Faint hues of deep purple and sea-foam blue leaked through, similar to a watercolor palette. You ran your fingers over the discolored patches of skin, feeling subtle, textural changes. Kyle’s skin was overall smooth, but slightly torn near his ribs.

“Stop me if-uh…if this hurts, okay?” You whispered in a soft tone. Kyle tilted his head, the blonde curls of his hair dangling over his face.

Morbid curiosity overcame you, as you momentarily delved deeper into Kyle’s ripped flesh. The texture of his skin was uneven, as the surrounding skin had dried out slightly. Hesitant, yet alarmingly eager, you dipped your fingers into a decaying wound close to his ribs. Keeping your eyes on Kyle’s face, you searched his expression for any signs of discomfort. Beyond the scabbed edges of his skin, your fingers found a cold, mushy cavern inside.

You felt the cold rigidity of his rib bones just beneath the surface, the dampness of his insides slimy and raw. Kyle’s breathing steadily grew labored the longer you explored him from the inside. His jaw fell slack, dark eyes rolling back in his deep sockets. After teasing the wound for a few beats longer, you pulled your digits from it. A warm blush pooled in your cheeks, and you exhaled a flustered laugh. Ashamed of yourself.

“S-Sorry, honey…” You apologized, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Kyle whimpered in response, wildly shaking his head. A slimy stickiness lingered on the tips of your fingers. And you made a mental note to thoroughly wash your hands once you finally returned to the academy.

You explored Kyle’s peculiar body for a moment longer. Beautiful, blue veins were visible under the thin layer of his skin. You traced those veins, following their intricate, web-like patterns. Kyle’s eyes fell closed as you did. He hummed soft, submissive whines. His head occasionally jerked in sudden, instinctive motions. After opening his eyes, Kyle stared down at you with a more lax, half-lidded expression.

You noted the way his eye sockets were slightly sunken in, appearing almost skeletal. A smokey darkness surrounded his foggy, black eyes, making them pop when they widened with abrupt impatience.

Growing fed up with your slow-paced, careful touches, Kyle darted down. He returned to his original task, gnawing pink teeth against the burning flesh of your neck. Your blood pulsed under your skin, beating against his slimy tongue. You brought your hands up to his blonde curls, carding your fingers through the somewhat-ragged locks.

Kyle’s hair was clean and washed. Yet, the strands felt like those of an old, decrepit dog. Curls dangled in his face as he mouthed your neck, and Kyle sloppily licked the bruises he sucked harshly into your skin. He pulled at your skimpy outfit, tearing rotted, jagged fingernails into the cheap fabric. Exposing your bra-covered breasts, Kyle ripped the front of your dress apart in one, harsh jerk. You wrapped a hand around his wrist, fighting to pull it away before Kyle tore your bra off as well.

“WAIT! Kyle, no! You can’t, honey!! I-It’s cold out here!! And someone might see!!” You insisted, “B-Before we do that, let’s go back home first!”

You were in too deep now, that much was obvious.

He jerked his hand away from your hold, groaning in protest. Kyle brought his massive palm to your chest, curling his fingers into your bra. He ripped the garment apart, letting your tits bounce freely. Immediately upon seeing them in their lucious, supple glory, Kyle made another noise. A groggy, throaty sound dripped from his tongue, drooling cool saliva over your breasts. He didn’t hold back, dropping to swipe his sticky tongue hungrily around one of your nipples.

“T-T…T….Treeeeeeeat…” Kyle groaned, ragged over your breast.

You whimpered, your nipples immediately hardening in response to his numbing, chilly touch. Your hands dropped to Kyle’s broad shoulders again, as you attempted once more to push him away. Ruthless with desire, Kyle licked and sucked your tits, as though thirsty for the milk you couldn’t provide.

By now, Kyle was handling you a little more roughly than you preferred.

As the dull flats of Kyle’s teeth sank into your flesh, biting hard; you were beginning to second guess yourself. Kyle chomped into your smooth skin like he wanted to rip you apart and feast on your blood. You wiggled from under him, trying to shimmy away. The hand of his not occupied with your breast, darted up to your shoulder. Kyle forced you down with his palm, keeping you in place. Mesmerized by the pheromones permeating from your pretty breasts, Kyle couldn’t stop himself. He gnawed your tit even harder.

And for you, that bite crossed a line.

Imprints of Kyle’s teeth were left embedded into your skin. Weakly raising your basket, you fought Kyle off, repeatedly whacking him on the shoulders with it. Candy flew out from the basket in every direction. In the back of your mind, you mourned their loss.

No matter how much you fought, Kyle refused to budge. If anything, your protests encouraged him further. Kyle grew more frustrated, growling monstrous noises into your tits as he sucked one hard. He scraped his teeth up to your collarbone, chomping into your skin so harshly you nearly cried.

“Stoooppp!!! Please!!! Kyle, sweetheart, that hurts!!” You pathetically begged, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes, “Please stop!! It’s not good, Kyle! It’s very bad!”

He shook his head wildly with another animalistic growl, keeping you caged under his body in the wet grass. Kyle moved himself further down your squirming form, jerking the skirt of your dress up over your belly. The tiny, lace panties you wore underneath were exposed to him completely, along with a shameful, wet spot between your legs.

“Noooo! Good… v-very good …” Kyle grumbled, frustrated. He sank down between your legs, enveloping your clothed pussy with his whole mouth.

Goosebumps shot across your thighs as his cold breath met your cunt. Kyle’s teeth roughly grazed you, his slimy tongue prodding your folds through the thin fabric of your panties. You instantly panicked, kicking his shoulders with all the might you had left.

Kyle violently tore your delicate panties off, ripping the fabric at the seams and leaving you bare. Crisp, late-night air nipped your poor, defenseless pussy. Fearful that Kyle might start chomping at your cunt like a corpse in search of brains, you quickly rolled onto your belly in the grass. You crawled forward on trembling limbs, your veins pumped full of adrenaline.

“L-Let me go, Kyle! No more! We gotta get back now!! P-Please!” You cried, rushing forwards with your knees pressing into the dirt.

Kyle came charging after you on all fours, his movements similar to that of a vicious, feral predator. The panic swarming your brain heightened, surging down your spine. Your heartbeat kicked to high-speed. Scrambling to stand, you were faced with the unfortunate reality…that your legs were too shaken and weak to function.

Your thin stocks were stained with mossy green, as wet dew seeped into their fabric. Just as you made it to the sidewalk pavement, you felt the tight grasp of cold hands wrapping around your ankles. Your ruby slippers kicked frantically against Kyle’s hold. But his grip tightened around them. Kyle dragged you by your ankles behind the bush in the dark, his jagged, rotting nails sinking into your skin over your stockings and scratching holes in the fabric.

That Oingo Boingo tune stuck on repeat in your head, echoed eerily topical lyrics in your subconscious mind. Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

You couldn’t hold back the terrified scream that leapt from your throat.

Kyle’s eyes flew open wide. He moved quickly, climbing over your body from behind. Reaching around to clasp a large, cold hand over your mouth, Kyle growled chilly breaths into the shell of your ear. You could feel the hard press of his sizable bulge against your ass.

You barely registered the sound of Kyle’s hushed, throaty voice shushing you, as you cried for him to stop in loud pleas. He whispered in your ear gentle, slurred reassurances…or, at least, he tried to. Kyle apologized repeatedly, mouthing your ear and neck in a more loving, yet clumsy way. Less teeth. Thank fuck for less teeth.

“S-Ssssss-...sooorry.” He mumbled slowly, “N-N…N….Neeeeed…”

Trying to calm yourself, you breathed long, deep breaths through your nose.

Realistically, you knew Kyle never intended to hurt you. And if he did, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. He was a creature who operated purely on animalistic, carnal instinct. His brain functioned at a process slower than the average person. Like Frankenstein’s monster. Of course, it should come as no surprise. If Kyle desired something as natural as sex, his thirst was bound to make him slightly more deranged.

Maybe he just hadn’t been taught otherwise.

With one of his hands clasped tightly over your mouth, Kyle brought his other to his jeans. He felt around aimlessly for the button, finding it difficult to free his cock from the constrictive denim. After a bit of agitated fumbling, Kyle finally released his hefty, undead cock from his pants. Perched in the grass on your elbows and knees, you curiously dropped your head to take a glance at his dick.

You were lucky enough to catch a quick glimpse of Kyle’s thick, bouncing cock. It was discolored like the rest of his body, and covered in vivid, blue veins. In your mind, you questioned the logistics. How was it even possible for a zombified man to get an erection?? Was it witch magic? Was witch magic really powerful enough to keep oozy, undead blood flowing through a zombie?

Kyle mounted you much like an animal in heat, guiding the fat tip of his cock to your weeping entrance.

The stark contrast between his corpse-like temperature and your own, more lively warmth shook you to your core. You gasped into Kyle’s palm, your lower-half squirming as the deathly cold, smooth length of his cock pushed its way through your searing walls. Your pleasant heat engulfed Kyle’s dick completely, and he immediately roared a guttural noise from deep in his chest.

“T-Trrrreeeeeeeeeeeeaaat!” He slurred in a broken tone, “ G-...G….Gooood treat.”

Those were the last, coherent words Kyle spoke, before carnal instinct took over his brain completely. He violently jerked his hips forward, sinking his stiff cock deeper into your pussy. The leaking, wet tip hit your cervix in a bruising pressure. You fell forward into the grass, almost losing balance on your trembling legs. Kyle released his hold on your mouth, instead raking his blunt, uneven nails down your body.

Pumping his cock through the tight squeeze of your cunt, Kyle dropped his palms to the grass. His brittle nails dug themselves so deep into the dirt.

“K-Ky-” You choked, feeling a thickness bubbling in your throat, “Kyle, please-”

The slickness of his length felt inhumanly cold inside you. Your blistering hot pussy constricted around him, grasping hold of Kyle’s cock and pulling him in deeper. He wanted so desperately to gnaw and bite you again, but he refrained from doing so. Kyle made huffy, monstrous noises as he fucked you raw and hard in the grass. Guttural, zombie-like groans echoed, ragged against your ear from behind. He carried no restraint, as he drilled you with his dick so hard and deep, it began to hurt.

Your entire body buzzed with sharp, pinpricks of overwhelming pleasure, edging so closely to pain. But somehow, you registered the ache as intoxicating. Your body couldn’t stop itself from betraying your brain’s warnings. Despite your suffering, your pussy fluttered so wet around Kyle’s cock. Hot, slick heat made it so easy for him to fuck you as hard as he desired. Allowing him to act on his unfiltered, baseless instincts.

“P-Please-...Ky-...Kyle…slow down, please-” You begged, mewling little cries.

Your soft voice only encouraged Kyle. His thrusts turned more violent and rapid, losing any consistency. Heavy balls slapped repeatedly at your hot mound, teasing your clit. Out of your control, your eyes rolled back in their sockets, as you moaned in blissful ecstasy.

Kyle’s nasty, unrelenting thrusts were so powerful in force, the overstimulation was enough to make you cum from penetration alone. Your fiery heat tightened around his pulsing cock, and your body erupted in a mind-altering onslaught of uncontrollable, orgasmic trembles. Kyle roared another guttural, monstrous sound, unable to resist sinking his blunt teeth into your neck. He wrapped an arm tightly around your middle, jerking you backwards to meet his thrusts.

“Kyle, wait!” You struggled to speak, your head dizzy and swimming. Turning your head slightly, you felt Kyle’s messy, blond hair brush the skin of your cheek, “Don’t finish inside! You have to – f-fuck – you have to pull out! You can’t cum inside me, baby!”

Your ass bounced recklessly against the hairy mound of Kyle’s pelvis. If he understood what you meant, it was clear Kyle had no intention of listening. Burying his length to the hilt in one, final, savage thrust; Kyle spilled his sticky, zombie seed deep inside your hot, living pussy.

“N-NO! KYLE, NO-” You panicked again, trying to crawl forward and out of Kyle’s grasp, “FUCK! YOU CAN’T-”

He roared his loudest noise yet, the sudden sound tearing through your eardrums. Latching a palm tightly around the back of your neck, Kyle forced you face down into the dewey grass. With your ass up and out, he fucked the last of his cum into your pussy with a near damaging force. A frigidly cold sensation pooled in the pit of your belly.

For a short moment, Kyle kept his slick cock buried inside you. Even as the length softened, he took his time before pulling himself from your cunt. And once he finally did, the thickness of his off-colored, oozy cum came spilling out of you in heavy spurts.

As it turns out, zombies cum a lot.

You shivered, sniffling as hot tears raced down your reddened cheeks. Kyle released his hold on your neck, reaching up to pet you clumsily over your hair. Behind you, you heard shuffling as he fought to tuck himself in his pants and fumbled with the button. Your knees collapsed into the grass, and you heaved rapid, frantic breaths. You couldn’t deny the way your body quivered with blissful, euphoric exhaustion.

“Kyle…for fuck’s sake…why…” You sniffled with a hiccup, lying with your cheek pressed to the grass.

Several bite marks of deep, dark violet littered your once clean skin. You rolled onto your back on the ground, your chest rising and falling with every quick breath you took. Kyle sat back on his knees, staring down at you with an expression of fearful, worried confusion. It seemed that, somehow, he didn’t understand why you were so immobile and worn out.

Kyle’s black eyes steadily trailed across every mark he left behind, all over your neck, collarbone, and breasts.

He frowned, his foggy eyes pooling with heavy tears. The whiskers and nose you’d drawn on his face earlier were smeared to high heaven, leaving black streaks on his cheeks.

Crawling over you again, Kyle gently buried his teary-eyed face in your tits. He pressed soft, cool kisses along your abused skin. Before resting his cheek on your chest. His thin, blonde curls tickled your chin.

“S-S…ssssorry… ” He mumbled through his tears. Kyle rubbed his thumb across one of the bites he left behind, making you wince, “B-Baaaad…not gooood…sorry…”

Despite his rough handling, you knew you couldn't stay mad at Kyle for very long. In a way, he'd made you feel pleasure beyond anything you ever experienced with an average, living man. And the loving kindness he carried under the surface of his monstrous exterior made you adore him. So much more than you already did.

You let out a long, tired sigh, raising a hand to gently run your fingers through Kyle's curls.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh? It's okay, honey. It hurt a little bit, but...I'm fine. Just..." You breathed an exhausted laugh, wincing as you tried to move, "Let's try to teach you a little restraint next time, okay?"

If you thought about it logically, there was no possible way you could actually get pregnant from a reanimated corpse, right? His swimmers were probably dead as doornails. Regardless, you felt a little squeamish knowing loads of gooey, zombie spunk resided inside you. You shivered at the thought, shaking your head.

Yeah, you definitely needed a long, hot shower. Asap.

"Can we please go home now, Kyle?" You begged, weakly sitting up on your elbows.

Peering up at you through adorable, innocent, dark eyes, Kyle blinked slowly. He nodded, pushing himself quickly off your body.

"H-Hhhhhh-....Hoooome..." He mumbled, politely holding out a hand to help you up.

You found yourself too incapacitated to stand. After such a raw, violent fucking, your body felt on the brink of death. Consumed by exhaustion, it was as though you'd become the living corpse. Undead and barely functional. Falling into the grass on your back, you groaned, burdened by a deep ache in your bones.

Catching on to your pained, tuckered-out state, Kyle reached down. He wrapped his thick arms around your body, effortlessly lifting you up over his shoulder. It was a ridiculously careless way for him to carry you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to complain.

In one hand, Kyle held his pumpkin bucket and your basket, both slightly empty of the candy they once held. With your limp body lying slump over his shoulder, he used his other hand to keep your skirt pinned over your butt. Nice of him to consider your decency.

In the empty, desolate cold of a moonlit, Halloween night; Kyle carried you all the way back to the academy.

And the whole way, as you hung limp over his shoulder in a fucked-out daze...you hummed a song softly to yourself.

Oingo Boingo kept looping endlessly in your head, like a persistent parasite.

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walking with a dead man over my shoulder

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walking with a dead man over my shoulder

#kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer x you #kyle spencer x y/n #smut #txt #ahs

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quinloki · 3 months

Text

Sir Crocodile - Bitter

Requestor: @thecrimsonacademic Reader Vibes Requested: AFAB they/them CW: Injury, recovery, amnesia, angst, manipulation, self-deprecation, the request was for me to go all out, and I poured a lot into this.

“Get back!” You roar, haki and emotions flaring, pushing Crocodile back despite his desires. “You bastard!” You growl, still moving away from him, pulling off one high heel and then the other.

You were dressed in silk and pearls, elegant and extravagant, the worth of a small island tied up in the diamonds that glittered against your neck. They were heavy and choking right now, you were sick that you had accepted the gifts with a smile on your face and need in your heart.

You rip the precious stones from your neck, the hot sting of skin ripping against the white gold doesn’t even make you flinch, bare feet against the pavement. The words echo in your mind, the accusation from the young man was soaked in truth and facts.

You’d taken Crocodile’s word all this time, but you couldn’t refute his cruelty in the face of the young man’s words. Couldn’t refute your part in it.

But no more.

“I should’ve known,” tears sting your eyes and your body shakes as you glare at him, keeping distance between you however you can. “I warmed your bed through it all, and I should’ve known.”

“It is unfortunate,” he replies, golden amber eyes narrowed dangerously. He was furious, not only at you, but at the fact that you had learned the truth. “Let us talk about this back home.”

You laugh, it’s full of anger and disbelief, “Big bad Sir Crocodile,” you spit. “Can’t have the news coos seeing you’ve lost control of your trophy whore, huh?” You pull the ring free from your finger and throw it at him. It thumps against his chest before he catches it easily. “You used me.”

“… Perhaps.” He nearly bites the word off. “Come back here and-.” He grunts as you push back again, anger and haki flaring in equal measure. If you keep this up you’re going to exhaust yourself, but you can’t risk going easy on him.

He’s not the Desert King for nothing.

“I can’t believe I bought so many lies!” You rage at no one in particular. There’s no crowd gathering, none would dare. A spat between the King and his Queen was an event no one wanted to witness. “For the small price of my soul.” You grunt, body tense, muscles searing with the strain of haki and your own emotions.

“To love as a lie as well,” you shake your head, feeling your heart twist.

“My love-.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” You bellow, his words shattered by your anger more than your haki. Despite your waning strength he stands still in the face of your words, giving you more space as you continue to back away.

You use the buffer to collect yourself, keeping a lookout for Daz Bonez, knowing he’d do whatever was necessary to force you into the limo at this point. He’s almost more of a danger to you than Crocodile, since he doesn’t have any love for you like his boss does.

“I’m not going to just fold to your will and-.” Bright lights fill your eyes, a frantic horn nearly drowns out all other sound, but you can hear your voice like fire and ice from his lips.

The impact shatters the final sputtering remnants of your neglected haki, and your world goes dark.

A terrible flood of pain shuts your body down and your mind swims in and out of memories that danced, sweet and sorrowful, along the edges of your consciousness. Muffled sounds and incoherent questions assail you, but nothing prompts you to react.

Exhaustion eats at your marrow, and anger gives way to dull aches and nauseating throbs. On some level you know you’re alive, you think, because being dead wouldn’t hurt so much.

Time comes and goes in fits. Darkness prevails for long stretches, and muttered voices that are too far away to be understood speak hastily against a steady beep. The stench of cleanliness burns your nose, and the scent of something familiar eases your soul.

Warm. Warm and soft, like hints of citrus mixed with sugar and spirits. Fine like sand, shifting against your feet as you walk along a beach, the scent of the ocean lost to the cigar between his-.

Your eyes open slowly, and the world around you comes into focus for the first time in however long. Hours, days, years, for all you knew you had been out for so long as to be reborn, but your body protests as your fingers twitch.

A warmth against your skin catches your attention, and a large hand carefully, and slowly, moves over your hand, holding your fingers delicately in his.

Golden eyes find yours, and you close your eyes against the intensity of emotions in them for a moment. You don’t feel fear, but the relief is almost too much to accept right now.

“Where?” You question softly, voice heavy, dry and cracked like desolate earth. You try to swallow and wince from the feeling of needles in your throat.

“Home.” He answers, voice full of authority, relief, and satin. He brings over a cup of water with a straw in it, gloved hand holding it steady for you. “Small sips.”

You nod a little, taking a few small drops of water and feeling relief wash through your mouth.

“How?” You grimace against a pain that tears through your head, fingers curling around his, holding on tightly for a moment until it passes.

“An accident.” He answers. “Don’t stress about the details right now, just rest and recover.”

You shake your head a little. “How… long?” You manage. He’s not wrong about the resting part, you can feel exhaustion starting to take you and you’ve only been conscious for a few minutes at most.

“Almost two weeks. You were in surgery for twenty hours, and at the hospital in recovery for ten days after that.” He explains, eyes shivering with emotions as he recounted the passage of time. “Once you stabilized, I brought you home. We converted the first floor den, in case you needed to be taken back to the hospital unexpectedly, but you’ve been steadily continuing to recover.”

Knowledge brings relief, and relief brings sleep, and you slip back into slumber with those last few words. You could feel warmth against your fingers, and the soft scent of smoke and citrus cradled you as you slept.

Over the next couple of days you slept like you were more cat than human, waking up long enough to drink some water, maybe some broth, sitting up eventually and having gelatin, only to go back to sleep immediately after. Slowly your ability to stay awake improved.

Your food became more solid, and you had short walks around the manor.

Memories danced down the halls, and shifted quietly through the courtyard, but it was hard to hold onto any of them. They clawed at your heart in desperation and twisted your stomach, but you weren’t sure if it was the memories themselves or the guilt of having forgotten.

All you knew for certain was that you were calmer when he was nearby.

The scent that followed him brought you comfort. The sound of his voice soothed your heart and you found reprieve from your turmoil in the quiet sounds of his existence. Comfort was yours to be had in abundance, since he was rarely ever far from your side.

Work kept him busy, but the more you recovered, the more you saw of him, to the point of you voicing concern about his responsibilities. He assured you that his empire wouldn’t collapse if he stepped away a little more often than usual.

Bejeweled fingers slipped gently against your cheek, golden amber eyes warm and content as they comforted you.

“Nearly losing you has caused me to… prioritize certain things, my love.” He insists, bringing your hand to his lips, bending low so you didn’t need to reach far.

You hadn’t been able to remember being in a relationship with him, and he’d given you space because of it. Just recently he’d slipped into referring to you with sweet titles, and warm names. You didn’t stop him, even before this point you’d understood on some level that he was important to you.

His very existence warmed your heart.

“I…” You pause a little, heat rushing through your body. “I would like you to kiss me.” You manage to say the damnably embarrassing words, eyes flicking up to his, before you look away. The surprise on his face was nearly adorable, and you didn’t want to let him know.

Warm fingers trace a gentle line against your neck, tilting your head up as he leans down. “All your desires are my pleasure to submit to,” he assures you, leaning down closer. “This, perhaps, top among them, desert flower.”

Your breath catches in your throat just before his lips brush against yours. Soft and careful at first, he pulls you in a little more, giving you the opportunity to step back if you so desire. Quiet tears slip down your cheeks as pleasure and love swell in your heart.

That you could ever forget such a sweet love was unforgivable.

#Forget Me Not Event 2024 #reader insert #x reader #amnesia #one piece fanfiction #request event #angst #Sir Crocodile

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sissylittlefeather · 5 months

Text

This is the Story: Epilogue

A/N: You know I couldn't leave Elvis and Grace forever. I love them too much. So here is a fun little epilogue of them together that makes my heart sing. I hope it brings you joy as well!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNi. Kissing, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Also pregnancy and birth.

Word count: ~1.2k (this is just a lil drabble for ya)

Epilogue

Elvis wakes up to notice that Grace is not in the bed. He has a moment of panic, realizing his pregnant wife is gone. He jumps out of bed, grabs a robe, and heads down the stairs to see if he can find her. Eventually, he does and he laughs. She's in the kitchen eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.

"Honey, you scared me!" She smiles sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, E. I woke up starving." He walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her, resting his hands on her very pregnant belly. She's due any day now, so the baby is low on her hips.

"I told you to wake me up when you wake up." She takes another spoonful and answers with the peanut butter thick on her tongue.

"I know; I'm sorry. You were just sleeping so good." He takes the spoon from her hand and sets it on the counter. Then, he turns her towards him and holds her, swaying gently. He starts humming and then begins to sing.

"And I love you so

The people ask me how

How I've lived till now

I tell them I don't know

I guess they understand

How lonely life has been

But life began again

The day you took my hand

And yes, I know how lonely life can be

The shadows follow me 'n' the night won't set me free

But I don't let the evening get me down

Now that you're around me

And you love me, too

Your thoughts are just for me

You set my spirit free

I'm happy that you do

The book of life is brief

And once a page is read

All but love is dead

That is my belief

And yes, I know how lonely life can be

The shadows follow me and the night won't set me free

But I don't let the evening get me down

Now that you're around me"

They slow dance as he sings. She'll never stop loving the sound of his voice as he holds her.

He leans down and kisses her lips softly. He kisses her again more passionately this time and they're both overcome with a need for each other. She's constantly surprised at how much he wants her, even with her pregnant belly. But what she doesn't know is that carrying his child has made her sexier than she's ever been to him. He reaches down below her stomach and rubs his finger on her clit through her panties. All she's wearing is a nightgown, so he has relatively easy access to her. He pushes her panties to the side and slips a finger inside her. She moans into his mouth and he continues what he's doing with his hand. She reaches her hand down and feels his hardening cock.

"You want me?" She asks coyly.

"You know I do, honey." He responds, his hips bucking into her hand. He turns her around so that she's bending over the counter and pulls his dick out of his pants, dragging her panties down her long legs. He bends his knees slightly and enters her pussy from behind, groaning with the sensation of her around him. He begins to pump in and out of her with more speed, reaching his hand around to rub her clit. He slides in and out of her quicker and quicker, moving his other hand up to massage her breast gently. She feels her orgasm tightening and then the release washes over her, sending heat from her center to her extremities and back again. It doesn't take long for his climax to follow hers.

"Fuck, yes, Grace, baby." He cries out as he pumps into her weakly a few more times. He turns her around to face him and kisses her mouth deeply. He pulls her panties up and puts himself away as they stand in the kitchen together, breathing heavily.

"I love you so much, honey." He whispers as he kisses her neck.

"I love you too, Elvis." She whispers in return.

Just then, there's a small pop and she's wet all of a sudden.

"Elvis! Something happened." He looks at her concerned.

"What? What happened?"

"I think my water broke." Panic sets in and his eyes flash.

"Really? Do we need to go?" A contraction slams into her and she holds onto his shoulders.

"Yes. Yes we do."

******

At the hospital, Elvis runs around frantically trying to make sure Grace has everything that she needs.

"E. Calm down." She tries to reassure him. "This isn't the first time for either of us."

"I know, but I just want to make sure you have everything just right." Just then, another contraction hits her and she reaches out for his hand. He comes close and takes her hand.

"As long as you're here, I have everything I need." She says through gritted teeth as the contraction washes over her. He stretches his hand as she breathes and then gives it back to her.

Her labor continues for several hours as Elvis tries to stay in the room instead of pacing outside the door. The nurses try to usher him out several times, but he refuses to leave.

"I'm staying with my wife!" He hollers when they try to encourage him outside. When it's finally time to push, the nurses give up and focus their attention on Grace. The doctor finally comes in, ready to do his part.

"About damn time, doc." Elvis groans.

"Babe, let the doctor do his job." Grace whines. He stops antagonizing the doctor and directs his attention to her.

"What do you need, honey?"

"Just you. Come stand here and hold my hand." She starts to push and Elvis is amazed at her strength. He wasn't able to be in the room when Lisa Marie was born, so he's not exactly sure what to expect. After another 20 minutes, the doctor catches the baby.

"It's a boy!" He hollers as the nurses take him to clean him off.

"A boy?" Elvis looks at Grace with tears in his eyes. She rests against the pillows on her hospital bed and smiles softly.

"I had a feeling."

They hand her the baby and she sits up to hold him. Elvis leans in close, sitting on the side of the bed. He pulls back the edge of the blanket to get a better look at his son. He's beautiful, with his blue eyes and her dark hair.

"Can we call him John Jesse?" She looks up at him.

"Of course we can."

******

A few days later, everyone is home and settled. This time Grace wakes up to an empty bed. She goes to get up and hears Elvis's voice. He's in the rocking chair they've put in their room next to the crib. He's holding John Jesse close to him and singing quietly.

"You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

you make me happy when skies gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away."

The scene warms Grace's heart and she sinks back into bed against the thick pillows as he continues to sing. Her heart is so full of love for her husband and her son. The story of how they built this beautiful life together is her favorite of all time. Their family is happy and she can't imagine loving anyone more than the way she loves Elvis right now in this moment.

Tomorrow, they'll introduce the baby to his sisters. But tonight? Tonight is just for them and the love that they've built together. Elvis lays the baby back in his bed and comes to her side. He nuzzles into her neck and kisses her gently.

"I love you always, Grace Presley."

"And I love you, Elvis. Forever."

They sink into the bed together, happy to know that they'll never be apart again. This family is theirs and nothing can tear it apart.

******

The End

(For real, this time.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fans #grace dubois #this is the story

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blackopals-world · 2 years

Note

I fell in love with your writing as soon as I saw that Onsen!Yuu fic. It was so good! Anyhoo! May I request a fic of Fem!Yuu where she sings and dances beautifully, seemingly alone. Unbeknown to her, a couple of Pomefiore students and the Tweels were watching her (while being unaware of the other). Cue Pomefiore and Octavinelle fighting over Yuu who's just confused.

~Oh my~

I was just thinking of something like this. Allow me to fulfill your request.

Dancer!femYuu gets kidnapped

Lace and silk

Satin touching cold wooden floors

A hand on hers

A soft piano plays

Familiar

Warm

Hot

HOT

Yuu woke up with a jolt as Grim rolled off her chest with a loud yowl.

"Just a dream" she thought to herself as she picked up her furry friend and placed him on the other pillow.

She tried to remember her old life that seemed only to come in the depths of night. Phantom movements that ghosted around her. A life unknown but still so close.

The morning light had barely touched the sky let alone crest the horizon.It was the weekend and she had nowhere to be. Still, Yuu needed to move. Throwing on a dress and flats Yuu left Ramshackle but not before giving Grim a little kiss.

The campus was still and foggy but Yuu felt a pull in her chest. Luring her to somewhere unknown. It begged her to get lost in the cool mist.

She remembered a day like this, when see would run to school as a little girl.

Yuu felt herself laugh as she took off, feeling the droplets of water slick to her skin. She felt alive.

Until she found the place her heart desired.

A bridge over a small lake that ended on a little island in the center. Black swans swam from shore to shore and fish tapped the water's surface.

Yuu remembered a day like this. When she stood by the bank with friends and threw breadcrumbs and seeds to the ducks in the water. They would gush about the boys in class and who they wanted to dance with. They would practice their jumps and twirls until one of them felling in the water and the others fished her out.

Yuu tried to remember their faces or names but it came back blotted like ink spilled on paper.

But she remembered the way it felt. The movements that she practiced so carefully once upon a time. Of when she was just a girl in a small town, who danced to her hearts content.

She stood on the stone railing of the bridge and walked across it like her old balance beam. She remembered how much her teacher hated when she turned it into a headstand. Thankfully she knew now not to after a near concussion.

A little duckling strayed away from its mother and wondered onto the bridge to watch her.

Yuu used to love the baby ducklings back home. She had a little song she'd sing to call them after ballet practice.

How'd it go?

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Yuu felt her body move as though possessed. She danced to the sound of her own voice.

Unknown to her that two heads peaked out from just above the water. Listening and watching. Hidden by the fog.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Simultaneously a few Pomefiore students heard the sound of singing in the mist and followed what they thought would be a siren or spirit. Only to find The Prefect dancing across the bridge with a gaggle of swans following her and almost seemed to dance beside her.

Her voice rang like a twinkling bell as she giggled joyously as she danced on the tips of her toes. Her dress flowing around her.

"Shrimpy, looks like she's having fun. She could float away at any moment." Floyd smiled showing rows of sharp teeth.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

"Like, a lovely jellyfish drifting in the water." Jade responded his tail curling in delight. "Azul, would love to see this and I'd be a shame miss it."

"We should grab Shrimpy and take her back with us." Floyed cackled as they formed a plan.

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly

Into the light of a dark black night

"She gorgeous. A true icon of beauty." One of the Pomefiore boys said.

"Indeed, wild and untamed. Hair flowing in the wind like a goddess." The other said.

"We have to invite her back with us. The other have to hear her voice. Imagine the crime we would have committed to not share her." The last piped up.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Just as Yuu finished her song there was a splash in the water and she was suddenly pulled in. She screamed as she believed that she was going to be eaten by some kind of lake monster.

When she heard the sound of Floyd laughing she knew she was right. She thrashed against the tweels as she ranted that this wasn't funny and they got her all wet.

See was so distracted she didn't notice the Pomefiore boys calling out to her believing that she was being kidnapped. (which she was)

They quickly rallied the other Pomefiore students along with Rook and Vil and told them what happened.

"They dragged our Dove unto the depths. She went from singing her heart out to screaming her lungs out." The Pomefiore boys cried tearfully.

"Ça alors!" Rook said shocked at the retelling. "We must save her!"

Vil tried to parcel the truth of this matter. It seemed as though the Octavinelles saw how taken his dorm was with the Prefect and have stolen her away. What ransom could they want? Poor Yuu must be distraught but who else was fit to save her but him?

All the while Yuu while mad was given new clothes to wear while her's dried. She was not a fan of a cold dip so early and being wisked away while she was in the moment. She was the moment, basking in it even.

She sat in the empty lounge as Azul smiled to placate her as he showed her a contratfor a new lounge singer. But Yuu wasn't in the mood.

"Come on siren, take the deal. Just one stroke of the pen?" Azul cooed.

"I'll think about it." Yuu huffed.

At that moment a Octavinelle student ran into the lounge.

"The Pomefiores are rioting outside! They want the Prefect!" He yelled.

"Tell them to go drown. She stays here." Azul said roughly "Unless they can offer be something better."

Yuu had no idea what was going on. She just wanted to dance a bit. Now the dorms are fighting.

Azul had to meet Vil at the dorm entrance to settle the dispute with the tweels all the while Yuu was left unsupervised.

Yuu quickly took a backroom exist out of Octavinelle and headed home. Whatever resulted from this was not her problem. Not her circus or her flying monkeys.

Yuu wandered how the most sensible of the dorms ended up acting this way.

She later met up with Ace and Deuce to show them her dance skills.

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grapejuicestyless · 3 days

Text

So Long, London

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Years and years of love and affection couldn’t amount to the floods of tears that flooded the once prosperous city you danced through.

From a young age I’ve always wondered what death feels like. Those who have experienced it aren’t here to tell us their stories. Would it hurt, could I feel it clenching my heart in its dark grasp or would I sigh in my sleep and let the darkness take me with no sense of slipping away.

As I walk down the old roads I used to dance on, I understand the concept of it better now that my heals hit the concrete like bullet shells falling to the floor. The vibrant red brick seemed duller nowadays, moss covering the once new white concrete holding all these places I often visited together.

To me, death wasn’t the last breath of air in my lungs escaping, it wasn’t the melodic beeping of the machines beside me in a hospital room, but something that drowned me from the inside out.

His smell is stuck to all my clothes, his smile carved into the back of my phone case from the polaroids of us I kept for keepsakes for years. I can still hear his voice, it’s all around me in the people passing by on the street, the same accent fresh in my mind, his last words knives in my heart.

He swore that he loved me, but where were the clues? I died at the alter waiting for the proof. His green eyes flashing with mischief as he lied to my heart to keep me close, his bluest days tainting my mind, my endless sympathy forcing me to stay even with the gun stuck against the back of my head.

I don’t remember the end, only the feeling of my spine splitting under the weight of his body as I pulled him in closer each time he slipped out of reach. Only the fading of his smile as I gave up trying to make him laugh after so many failed attempts. The heart was dead, I stopped CPR after all, there was no use. Our love was long dead, lying buried with our faltering spirits. He killed me when he killed our relationship, two graves dug with one gun.

He swore that he loved me, and his face looked just like the man who said it to me and meant it, so I believed him as he led me down the street with his hands in his pockets.

For so long, I loved london. My clothes out of place, made for the states and carried across to my home where he laid in the dimming light of our sunroom. For so long, I held him and guided his heart to mine, I let him take parts of me I’ll never be able to rebuild. And I’m angry that I gave him all that youth for free, but I’m just mad as hell because I loved this place.

And he claims I abandoned the ship, he writes it in the songs on his albums and sends the troops to my front door, breaking down the home I just rebuilt but they’ll never know how I was going down with it, my white knuckle dying grip holding onto his quiet resentment.

But truly how much sad did he think I had left in me to give? How much tragedy? Just how low did he believe I could before I would self-implode, waiting for his grays and blacks to turn back into the vibrancy I fell so deeply in love with.

And as I walk these streets, his scent fading from my clothes, I can feel the color coming back to my face, and I feel bad for anyone who stops me on the streets and asks me to grab a coffee, because the hole in my heart is black and it’s pulling in anything in it’s path, it’s destructive and dangerous and it acts a lot like him.

He’ll find someone, my stitches will come undone and my heart will die as I lay silently on the empty floor of the apartment I never thought I would see again.

I have to leave, I know it even in this post-death mist. I am a ghost walking down these once euphoric streets we walked hand in hand across. I can’t let myself rot like he did, I won’t let myself get left behind like he intended.

And I’m just mad as hell because I once loved this place.

But for now, it’s so long, london.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #harrystyles #harry styles

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alistairs-raven · 3 months

Text

Lunar Eyes

The story of why my Alistair and Hattie designs have mirrored dead eyes.

Story also available on AO3

No triggers. PG

I truly hope you all enjoy it!

---

It was his first day at Gracey Manor, or rather it was the first for everyone. Hundreds of spirits had been summoned to the house and they had quickly made themselves at home. Some of them sat together and talked, while others danced and sang. There were shy ghosts as well, who found quieter places in the house. He was one of these spirits, and he had found the attic most to his liking.

The Hatbox Ghost was his name or simply Hattie by his friends. He was a short man, made even shorter as he braced himself against his cane. Upon his balding head was a tall top hat that made him more noticeable, but his most unique trait was the hatbox that gave him his name. Hatbox’s mortal life had ended when he was murdered by an axe to the neck, and now his head had a nasty habit of falling off. To the delight of his visitors, it would land in his hatbox before returning to his shoulders.

In stark contrast, there was another spirit who shared his space in the attic. To some she would appear a fearsome presence. She stood tall in the wedding dress she had lost her life in, and her visibly beating heart glowed in her chest. It was for this trait that she came to be known as the Beating Heart Bride. But to Hatbox, she was Emily, his closest and dearest friend.

As the day’s guests left and the house became truly theirs, the happy haunts were free to simply enjoy each other's company. The sounds of the other ghosts moving about and laughing was distant, which suited the pair in the attic just fine. Emily smiled happily as she heard the sound of his cane on the hard wooden floor as he approached. Ever a gentleman, the man set his hatbox down and tipped his hat to her. As he did, his head fell into the hatbox, causing Emily to giggle as she returned the greeting, taking her long gown in her hand before bending into a curtsy.

“I wasn’t sure at first but I think I’m going to like this place.” Hatbox answered the question before Emily could ask it.

He saw the visible relief upon her face as she replied. “I like it here as well. We have a home now.” For so long they had been wandering spirits. Always together and forever in close sync, tragedy had bound them together.

Gently setting the candle and bouquet of flowers she held onto a nearby table, Emily turned to gaze out the window. Outside the full moon shone bright against a clear night. Hatbox came to her side and took her hand. She looked at him, pleased to see his head had returned to his shoulders. Some may have liked when his head peaked out from his hatbox, but she knew he preferred that it stay attached. She squeezed his boney hand, enjoying the peaceful moment. They were quieter ghosts. Not much needs to be said when one knows another soul so well.

“They’re dancing downstairs.” Hatbox broke the silence. “They’ve been dancing all day down in the ballroom.” “Do you think we should go down and join them?” Emily asked. After such an eventful day she would be surprised if he did.

Hatbox laughed. “No, I want to stay up here. But I do think dancing sounds very nice.” He set the cane against the wall and took Emily’s other hand in his.

The pair danced together as the light of the moon cast their shadows across the room. They could have danced together until the end of time and Hatbox would have been happy.

But like mortal life, everything has an end, and the night they danced was the last time Hatbox ever saw Emily.

Decades passed, generations of mortals came and went, and the happy haunts continued their joyous fun. No one seemed to notice that Hatbox left the mansion and never returned. No one except Emily. She waited for him, the glowing heart in her chest dimming. One day it went dark and the Beating Heart Bride faded away.

—

When Hatbox returned to Gracey Manor few remembered him, but those who did were overjoyed. He quickly found himself overwhelmed by ghosts and mortals alike wishing to see him. Wishing for some quiet, he returned to his preferred spot in the attic only to find it inhabited by a stranger.

Constance was her name. At first sight she could have been mistaken for Emily, but Hatbox knew immediately this wasn’t his soul mate. She was a cold, cruel woman who in life had killed multiple husbands. In her hand she carried the axe used for the crimes. The sight of it made Hatbox’s neck hurt, and he kept as much distance as he could from her.

“I can’t find Emily, have you seen her?” Hatbox found himself wandering the hallways that night, asking everyone he could find if they’d seen her.

“Yes, I’ve seen her. She was looking for you.” The Host Ghost was the first to provide some much needed answers. He had been one of the few to recognize Hatbox when he returned, and he inwardly kicked himself for not realizing earlier that this was the man to ask about anything in the mansion.

“Oh wonderful! Where is she now?” Hatbox asked, his grin wide. It slowly faded as Host rubbed his chin, seemingly having trouble remembering.

“To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s been awhile.” “How long is awhile?” Hatbox’s voice mirrored his growing irritation.

“Years I believe. I’d have to check the records for the exact time.” Host’s voice was emotionless as he merely spouted facts.

“YEARS?!?” Hatbox felt his temper flare.

Host raised an eyebrow, an impressive feat for a man who had a skull for a face. “Yes, that’s what I said. She was like you, just left without a word. I assumed she’d stopped waiting and finally went off to find you.”

Hatbox was shaking. Should he leave again and go after her? Or should he stay and wait for her to return? His soul felt hollow and the shaking caused his head to fall into the hatbox he carried at his side. Host patted the headless man on the shoulder.

“You returned after all these years. Perhaps she will as well?” He tried. Unfortunately offering comfort was not his forte.

Hatbox didn’t know how to respond so he simply settled for “I’m going to return to the attic.” “Be careful up there.” Host warned. “The woman up there is a scary one. We keep her up there because she’s a bit of a buzz kill.”

“Thanks…” Hatbox’s cane thudded against the floor as he solemnly made his way up the stairs. His head had just returned to him when he entered the attic to find Constance gone. Perhaps she had decided to wander the mansion as well. She seemed the type to be where the people were-

Constance jumped out from where she’d been hiding and swung at Hatbox with her axe. The motion did nothing to a ghost, but unfortunately it startled him enough that he leapt back and his head fell off once more. The woman laughed darkly. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.” She shoved past him and he watched as she made her way down the stairs and disappeared, leaving him alone. If only he could lock her out for good.

Hatbox made his way to the window, his head returning as he set the hatbox down. He reached out with his hand and gently touched the cold glass. That night felt like it had just happened. How could it have been years? Outside the moon emerged from behind the clouds. It was a full moon, just like that night, and the irony made Hatbox’s dead heart hurt even more.

The sounds of the other ghosts became background noise as he got lost in his thoughts. He was only brought out when the grandfather clock rang midnight, and the chime echoed powerfully throughout the manor. As he listened he noticed the lights above him sway. With the last chime of the clock they went from yellow to bright purple.

Hatbox didn’t have much time to ponder before he felt strange. It was like he was being pulled away from the manor once more and he panicked. No! He couldn’t leave. He needed to stay in case Emily returned. He resisted the pull but it quickly became too strong. In his ear he heard a cruel laugh that sent a chill through him.

“Don’t fight it. You’re already suffering, it will only hurt you more.”

“Who are you?” Hatbox tried to sound strong against the dark, echoing voice.

The laugh got more boisterous. “Why, I’m you. Or rather, I am a better you. A you that is without grief.”

Hatbox felt himself fading. He no longer felt in control of himself. “What have you done?!” He shouted, the words failing to come out of his mouth. The dark entity must have heard it anyway because he responded.

“You can leave the mansion. It’s what I desire, so I’m taking control.”

“No!” How was this even possible? “No, no, no!” Hatbox cried out again and again as he became merely an observer.

—

Alistair Crump smiled out the window at the full moon. In the glass he could see his reflection and his smirk disappeared. The face was his but more skeletal, with no lips or eyelids. His eyes were now colorless and his hair was longer. He hoped he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of eternity looking like this.

Stepping away from the window, the man picked up the hatbox and made his way out and down the stairs. He had just reached the bottom when Constance jumped out at him, swinging her axe with glee. Alistair didn’t even blink and instead he looked up at her with squinted eyes. “A bit more respect would serve you well. I don’t tolerate such foolishness.”

Constance blinked at the reaction, or rather the lack thereof. She opened her mouth to speak but seemed to change her mind and instead moved past him to return to her place upstairs. Alistair rolled his eyes and continued making his way through the manor.

Alistair knew the Gracey manor well. He had spent well over a century ruling over it after all. The exit wasn’t far, but he couldn’t help wanting to have a little fun. He had a natural desire to be noticed and instead made his way to the ballroom.

As always it was packed full of ghosts. The organ was playing, there was dancing, and of course there was an endless feast. Normally it would have been cleared out as he arrived, but now the party simply continued as he was welcomed as one of them.

“Well if it isn’t the Hatbox Ghost, finally out of the attic.” Alistair recognized that voice and turned to look at the hitchhiking ghosts. He disliked these three because no matter what he did they never seemed bothered. But they had been quite useful to him. At least, in another afterlife.

“If I had known you three were going to be here I’d have stayed up there.” Alistair growled through his lipless teeth.

“Uhhh” Phineas seemed too dumbfounded to say real words, but Ezra did it for him.

“Are you feeling okay, Hattie?” “Yea, I know you’ve been having a hard time looking for Emily.” Gus chimed in.

“Who’s Emily?” Alistair asked. The dumb faces he got in response made him sigh. Choosing to move on he made his way past them to the table. The lack of pillows on his favorite seat caused his hackles to raise for a moment before he remembered this wasn’t ‘his’ Gracey Manor. The ghosts here were a leaderless, chaotic lot. The thought made him sick.

“Leave and go back where you came from, then.” Hatbox’s voice was faint in his mind but Alistair still heard him.

“I told you, we will be leaving.” His thoughts became words that Hatbox could hear. Alistair turned to leave the ballroom, suddenly no longer feeling the need to be here. He still needed to keep up appearances, and if he couldn’t rule over and torment the other ghosts what was even the point.

As he made his way to more quieter halls, Hatbox spoke to him once more. “Your name is Alistair.”

“How do you know that?!” Alistair stopped in his tracks, his attention going completely to internal conversation.

“We’re sharing a mind. I can see everything.” Hatbox explained. “Alistair Crump. You own a manor on the other side of the country.”

“Two can play this game, I see your memories as well.” Alistair didn’t like anyone knowing personal information about him. This seemed to be an unfortunate side effect of his spell. “I see you were a weak man with very little. But a woman foolishly fell for you anyway. Her name was… Emily.” Outside their minds an evil smirk crossed the man’s face. “She agreed to marry you but then someone murdered you both.”

Hatbox had long since come to peace with their deaths. It was nothing he could change, and as ghosts they still had eachother. At least, they did. Alistair chuckled as he saw the thoughts flash through his mind.

“She gave up on you. You left the manor and abandoned her.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then why did you leave?” It was a genuine question disguised as a cruel one. Alistair couldn’t find anywhere in his memories why Hatbox had left, only that he had.

“I don’t know! One moment I was happy, and the next almost 50 years had passed.” His voice shook as he added. “I would never have abandoned Emily.”

Alistair’s laugh echoed through their minds as he enjoyed the pain Hatbox felt. “For love he lost his head now this man spends his days cold and dead.”

Hatbox didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. He’d seen the graves. In fact, he’d seen all this man’s crimes. It filled him with disgust to know that in another time he could be like this. “You deserved to be banished.”

“I deserve revenge. I deserve respect and admiration from those too weak to seek it for themselves. My ritual failed, but once we get out of here that won’t matter.”

Alistair continued down the halls, his cane echoing as he slammed it down harder than needed to. He was almost out of here. He was finally going to be free from this wretched manor.

He just needed to get past the seance room.

The man quieted his steps as he entered, hoping that this late at night Madame Leota would be more dormant, having spent the entire day reciting spells. He seemed to be in luck, because she didn’t seem to notice him until he was almost to the other side of the room and out the door when she spoke. “Where are you going, Hatbox?”

Alistair tried to sound friendlier. Tricking her would be far harder than the three idiots from earlier. “I’ve been looking for Emily. I wonder if she’s outside looking for me.”

“Emily never left.”

Inside of their shared mind, Hatbox suddenly came to attention. “Never left..?”

“I see…” Alistair responded aloud. “Well, regardless I need to step outside.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Leota asked. “I remember when you left before.”

“You do?” Hatbox asked silently and Alistair asked aloud.

“Oh Hatbox, I should have told you before. When I summoned you here, your soul arrived different then the others. It wasn’t… complete. Part of your soul was here, and another was somewhere else. As a result, you couldn’t stay. You were cast out of the manor. But Emily is a bound soul. Without you, she faded away.”

Hatbox tried to process as he was overcome with grief. He cried out in anguish, the sound so loud that Alistair had a hard time forming his own response. “His- My soul isn’t complete?! And you call yourself the world’s greatest medium.”

Madame Leota recognized that voice. “Crump?!?”

It seemed the game was up. “I decided banishment to my manor wasn’t for me. And so I’m here now, but don’t worry. I was just seeing myself out.”

“I will send you back. And keep a better watch on you this time!”

“Not without punishing an innocent soul.” Alistair laughed darkly as he felt once again he had the upper hand on the medium.

“We shall see.” Leota began chanting, much to Alistair’s surprise. He hadn’t expected her to so willingly endanger another soul, which meant she thought this spell would work.

“You told me his soul doesn’t belong to the manor. It won’t stay!” Alistair tried to manipulate the medium with her own words.

“Hatbox… Hattie, you have to choose.” Madame Leota’s words reached the grieving man trapped in his own mind. “Is this your home?”

The Hatbox Ghost thought back to that first night at the Gracey Manor. How Emily had called it their home now. If that’s what she had wanted, then that’s what he wanted as well. He missed her so much. He felt so hollow with the missing part of him. “Emily, this is our home.”

“Quiet. All of you, quiet!” Alistair demanded, for once fear evident in his voice. He cried out and suddenly Hatbox was back in control of his body.

Hatbox almost fell and lost his head immediately but quickly found his legs. He looked around, recognizing the seance room. There was Madame Leota, floating in her crystal ball. But her attention wasn’t on him. He followed her gaze and he felt his dead heart jump.

There was Alistair Crump being held aloft by Emily. He writhed in her grip, trying to tear her hands away from his neck but she held him firm.

“EMILY!” Hatbox was too elated to care about anything else. “EMILY HOW.?” “You chose to be here.” Leota spoke calmly behind them. “Your soul belongs here now and therefore, so does your soul mate.”

“You all make me sick!” Alistair snarled, still trying to get free.

“Bring him over here, let me have a good look at him.” Leota couldn’t help the amusement in her voice as Emily brought him over and pinned him down on the table. He looked different than she remembered. His lips and eyelids were gone. His right eye was an intense yellow, but the left one was dead. Pale, like the full moon that gave him his powers. Behind him, she could see that Hatbox hadn’t been left unmarked. In an inverse, his right eye was dead and ghostly. “I’m sorry this had to happen, but I promise he will not escape this time.”

“Don’t lie to them. This will not be the last time we see eachother.” Alistair promised as he was chained to the table by purple light. He continued to glare at Hatbox, the ghost who shared part of his soul, until he vanished. Banished back home to Crump Manor, this time they all hoped for good.

Emily turned to Hatbox, tears in both of their eyes. They embraced, her heart beating loudly against him. Decades had passed, and most had forgotten their bond. But it still burned as strong as ever. Hatbox never wanted to let her go but finally she loosened her embrace and said “Let’s go upstairs where we belong”.

Hatbox nodded, tears wetting his eyes and face. “Thank you, Madame.” He tipped his hat to the medium.

—

Nighttime continued in the Gracey Manor. Most were oblivious to the night's happenings. As far as everyone was concerned, everything was normal. Except for Constance, who tried to tell everyone who would listen that “they” kicked her out of the attic. “We’ll just find somewhere else for you later, don’t worry.” The Host Ghost told her dismissively.

In the attic, two ghosts held hands. Emily touched Hatbox’s face, which was now changed by the pale eye. She didn’t care and told him not to worry either as she kissed him on the forehead.

In a strange way, the dark man had reunited them. Hatbox wanted to forget him as he danced with his beating heart bride once more. But as they slowly swayed together, he felt his dead right eye water. He tried to rub out whatever was in his eye when he realized they were tears. Far away, in another manor, Alistair was sad. It seemed they were bound together as well. Perhaps he was correct when he’d said they’d see eachother again some day. But for now he let those concerns fade away into the night.

-----

Written with my friend Draco in mind. I enjoy our conversations.

#alistair crump #hatbox ghost #the haunted mansion #emily #beating heart bride #hitchhiking ghosts #ghost host #heartbox #constance #my writing

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maxwell-grant · 9 months

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which of the SF characters would watch Oppennheimer and which would watch Barbie ?

Not doing all of them but

Ryu: Barbie. Probably got dragged into it by Sakura. Didn't get most of it but he liked it. Hopes Ken is doing allright ("I too know what it's like to struggle with my worst self") and gifts his Ken a "I am Kenough" shirt.

Ken: Mel wanted to watch Oppenheimer and Ken went along with him. Mel liked it, but Ken got bummed out at the story of a neglectful husband and father trying his best to help people and ruining lives over it.

Chun-Li: Her and Li-Fen went to Barbie in matching outfits. The mother's speech in the middle of the movie really, really resonated with her.

E. Honda: Goes to Barbie screenings painted pink to promote his business. If you even think about suggesting Oppenheimer to him he will slap you and you will deserve it.

Blanka: Barbie. Loved it, a little confused but trying to get the spirit, called up his mom and Sakura later to apologize in case he ever oppressed them or made them feel inadequate. Look out for pink variants of Blanka-chan in stores soon.

Guile: Neither, but his family dragged into Barbie. Spent most of it stone-faced but by the time of the Just Ken musical battle number he did crack up a bit.

Dhalsim: Neither.

Zangief: Went to Barbie with R.Mika. Laughed so loudly during the movie you could hear it outside the room. Launches an all-women wrestling course because he thinks muscle power is the solution to misogyny as it is to everything. Marisa enrolls in for a laugh.

Balrog: Neither. Thinks long movies suck and wouldnt be caught dead attending a girl movie.

Vega: Enjoyed both from a reserved patrician distance, couldnt relate to either of the protagonists in any way. Offended by the existence of Weird Barbie and the scenes with old women in it.

Sagat: Neither. But if one of the kids at his village asked, he would go watch Barbie with them and pretend he had a good time, would heavily criticize Ken for betraying his community in vain pursuits of power.

M. Bison: Barbie, and he likes it, not even for any nefarious reason. Doesn't care to watch Oppenheimer, 3 hours of a guy getting cold feet about doing something that Bison happily does at home for free (murdering scores of innocent civilians).

Cammy: Oppenheimer. Only attended Barbie because the other Dolls asked her to, but she didn't think much of it.

Dee Jay: Barbie, and he had a great time. Plays his own remixes of Just Ken and Dance the Night for several nights at the club afterwards.

Akuma: Neither. If he did, he would quit Oppenheimer in the first minutes, in disgust at Oppenheimer's weakness for trying to murder his teacher with a poisoned apple instead of his bare hands.

Dan: Didn't plan to watch either but people kept seeing him in the street and assuming he was on his way to watch Barbie. After doing so, he tries to aggressively rebrand the Saikyo Dojo as a feminist dreamhouse over the following weeks and fails.

Nash: Oppenheimer. Didn't feel anything other than sadness.

Rose: Doesn't enjoy movies very much, her powers predict the entire plot before it happens, but still went to watch Barbie with Menat and Maggio.

Sodom: Neither, but protests Oppenheimer screenings in defense of Japan and genuine disgust over the movie's subject matter, runs away crying whenever it's pointed out that he's a white jock.

Rolento: Disliked Oppenheimer for the protagonist being a lily-livered coward who couldnt stand by his own choices in defense of the country.

Sakura: Barbie. Had fun, but the parts where Barbie punches a guy and outruns the police and the mother outfoxes the Mattel executives in a car chase is kinda what she wished most of the movie was like, dissappointed only the Kens got to fight.

Gen: Neither. Dead.

Cody: Barbie. Liked it fine, I guess, wasn't boring.

Dudley: Went with Elena to watch Barbie. Found it a smashing good time and felt offended at how rudely the Kens treated the Barbies when they took over.

Necro: Cried during both with Effie. Barbie's crisis over her humanity and her moment at the bench really got to him.

Hugo: Went with Poison to watch Barbie. Enjoyed it more than she did, found himself relating a lot to the tiny violent Allan man who belongs nowhere.

Makoto: Barbie. Didn't like the daughter's character arc one bit and walked out of it hating Barbie as a concept more .

Rufus: Went to Barbie at Candy's insistence and my God you could not get this man to shut up about it for days afterwards. Added feminist to the list of self-aggrandizing adjectives he uses.

Seth: Pre-Doll Zero, he would have watched Oppenheimer and not liked it for it's preoccupation with pathetic human morality. Post-Doll Zero, he would resonate unbelievably hard with Barbie's arc and have a breakdown over the ending.

Juri: Saw both. Spend the entirety of Oppenheimer browsing her phone and making loud bomb/fart noises with her mouth and laughing. Thought Barbie sucked.

Poison: Went with Hugo to watch Barbie and kept planning ways to cash in the pink/Barbie craze for her business. Thought the movie was funny but kinda dumb.

Rashid: Barbie, really really liked it. Pirates the movie before it's out on digital to make a reaction stream and gets sued over it.

F.A.N.G: Oppenheimer. Besides the skin melting scene, dissappointed at how little it showed the scientific process behind building an atomic bomb or civilians dying, he kinda signed up just for those things.

Luke: Liked both, really wants to have his own Mojo Dojo Casa House and, besides the whole oppressing women thing which is totally uncool, doesn't think the Kens were doing anything that wrong.

Jamie: Wanted to watch Barbie but drunkenly wandered into Oppenheimer by mistake and had a really bad time.

Manon: Criticizes Barbie for muddled politics and found Barbie apologizing to Ken at the end viscerally disgusting.

Marisa: Neither. Went to watch Meg 2 because watching action stars fight a giant rampaging shark seemed like more of a good time to her. Thought the first one was a lot better.

JP: Majority shareholder at Mattel stock, politely claps during the screening.

AKI: Has spent the last weeks furiously testing out poisons on various plastics and chasing down Mattel executives for intel. Has a cunning plan to take over Barbieland and gift it to her master.

#street fighter #replies tag #not tagging everyone #capcom #fighting games

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erictmason · 8 months

Text

“BOUND FOR FREEDOM, YEAR FIVE, DAY FOUR: “Game”

“A Game of Thrones”

"There's no avoiding it, is there?" The tiredness in Sally's voice was clear, but Sonic could tell it ran much deeper than mere physical exhaustion. The two had been on the run for quite some time, and he had never heard such a weary tone in the princess' words before. "In my experience, that's how it usually goes with the worst stuff," he replied, trying to play it cool without sounding dismissive.

Sally drew her knees close to her chest, ears flattening to her head as her gaze turned to the simmering camp fire. "...I've always known my father was a hardened man," she said. "I was his prisoner as much as his daughter, after all."

She fell silent then. Sonic watched the fire dance in the reflection of her eyes. "But...?" he prompted softly.

It took a moment before Sally reacted. "But even after I met you...even after I learned how cruel a King he really was..." She paused again, arms tightening around her legs. "...somewhere, deep down, I think there was still a part of me that hoped..." A low sigh mixed into her words, "he could still see reason. That somehow, I might be able to...talk him down." She let out a low, coughing laugh. "I know how foolish that sounds, but-"

"It doesn't," Sonic quickly spoke up. "Hopin' that things can be better...'s'what keeps people like me..." He rolled his fingers along the ground. "...like us...going."

Sally's eyes moved from the fire to the hedgehog. "...I suppose it is," she said. Then she looked away again, now into the rising smoke drifting into the night sky. "Now, though...we know. I know. He sent Elias...my own brother...to kill me." Her voice grew a little more ragged with each word. "He was prepared to sacrifice both of his own children to hold onto his power." Sonic could see the growing tension in her shoulders...her hands...even just her brows. "There's no other way. If this world is ever going to be free...he has to die. And I have to kill him."

The resignation in those words struck Sonic. He realized then it was why he'd been so keenly aware of the difference in Sally's tone from the very beginning. It was the first time he had ever heard defeat overtake her spirit. He did not care for the feeling it stirred in him. "Maybe," he said, "...or maybe not." Sally closed her eyes then, letting out another bitter sigh. "Don't get me wrong," the hedgehog continued, "however all of this ends...it was never going to be easy. But you..." He chuckled just a little, in spite of everything. "...you've already surprised me in a whole bunch of ways."

The squirrel's eyes popped back open, and she suddenly turned her gaze to the hedgehog. "You said it yourself," he told her. "The King was ready to see you and Elias dead t'get his way. But because of you...that's not what happened. You and your brother are both still alive."

"For now," she whispered back.

"Yeah, for now," Sonic said. "Folks like me? 'For now' is all we can ever count on. It matters, a lot." His fingers flexed lightly, as if remembering a certain sensation. "I'm just sayin'...maybe better things aren't possible for the King."

And with as much sincerity as he could find, he smiled for her. "But that doesn't mean they aren't still possible for you."

((lol yeah my plans for keeping pace with my own Event Week just completely fell through this year, so enjoy me playing catch-up over the coming days even more so than usual. XD As for this particular pic, I decided to take the chance to revisit that "Empire" AU of mine I keep teasing at.))

#sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic #sally acorn #sonsal #king acorn #fan art #ericthemason #my art #boundforfreedom

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cxnsolatio · 2 years

Text

#✚ | ❝ as i danced with the dead my free spirit was laughing and howling down at me ❞ { aesthetics }#wardrobe

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just-venti-ng · 8 months

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Hello writer!! I saw that you were taking requests for good memories and bad memories of (word). So forgive me because I am feeling angsty but can I get both a good memory and a bad memory for the word secret/secrets? I will leave it to you to make me cry and laugh at the same time 👌☺️ (Just kidding unless you want to 👀). I hope you have a wonderful day and that life treats you well! See ya around 👋!!!

(ah, I missed you, anon! I'm not sure if you'll ever see this since it's been so long, but if you do, I hope you enjoy! It's kind of a long one!)

"It will be our little secret, then."

That's what the bard had said once upon a time under the shade of a stout oak with a finger to his lips, his feet dipped in the water of a nearby pond where he'd often go to leisurely strum his lyre.

It was the boy's favorite spot—the only place he really felt he could escape from it all in this petite little nation, sealed off by the wind.

Every smile he graced his people with was honest; genuine. And yet only here where the fireflies dance and the water reverberates his songs right back at him did his joy truly glimmer.

To think the little spirit was the boy's only witness.

"And once the revolution has ceased and we're all free to go where we've always pleased, we'll share with them this gift at a most extravagant feast!"

****

Barbatos stares at the feather cupped within his newfound hands, its edges appearing to have been tipped in blood.

How is he meant to show this to them all when the one who wished to see it most is—

"Dead," says a rather gruff voice tinged with disbelief. "You're supposed to be dead."

Barbatos twists around slowly, careful not to lose his balance. It is an odd thing, standing on your own two feet when all you've ever known is how to float.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" He calls cheerfully, putting his arms behind his back and giving a clumsy little bow. "How pleasant to make your acquaintance once more!"

"Inconceivable..." the redhead—Sir Ragnvindr—mutters, his voice a tad thin as it splinters at the ends with barely-contained anger and grief. "Just who are you, anyway?"

"Why, I'm your trusty bard and friend—"

But right as Barbatos takes a necessary breath in order to say his bard's name, he's unkindly interrupted.

"Don't," Sir Ragnvindr snarls. "Don't... say his name." He pauses, his mouth drawn up into a tight frown before he finds the will to speak with the same conviction once more. "I don't know who or what you are, but you certainly aren't him."

Barbatos feels his insides shrivel as those words echo within this new, hollow vessel of his, cutting deep into the skin he's only just donned. He hasn't had time to let it thicken against pointed phrases like this.

I don't know who or what you are...

But as an elemental being born from a single shred of the thousand winds, he supposes he's never needed such a thing as skin before. He certainly can't allow it to hinder him now, even if the melody has been harshly ripped from the song that is his life and left it sounding empty. He as the harmony must rewrite that melody and carry on.

"And why can't I be him?" He asks somewhat coyly, taking an experimental step forward.

"Because he—" At last, Sir Ragnvindr's voice wavers. Wavers and cracks under the weight of watching the most stubborn boy he ever had the displeasure of meeting take his final breath.

"You died," he corrects with a shuddering breath. "I watched it happen with my own two eyes. I etched your final words into my memory, into my heart itself, but I—"

The man clutches at his chest as if to say it should've been me.

"I can't see the world on your behalf," he finishes, the grip on his shirt tightening as if trying to wrench his own heart out of his chest. "N-not... not when you were so young."

You and I both, the spirit silently agrees. You and I both.

With that, Sir Ragnvindr glances around, clearly searching for something familiar. "Wh-where...?" He stutters out, looking around more rapidly by the second. "If you're really him, where is that bumbling pixie that always followed you around, huh?"

First of all, rude.

Second of all...

To think the spirit was that integral to the bard's life that its absence makes those who knew said bard feel incomplete...

It's sweet in the saltiest way, like seawater might taste to a man dying of thirst.

But if that man has never known the difference...

"That spirit," Barbatos starts slowly with a gentle yet sorrowful smile. "Gave its very life so that I might live on. Its power combined with that of the fallen god was enough to resurrect me."

And if Sir Ragnvindr was reluctant for even a moment, it all dissipates into a cloud of fluff whenever Barbatos reveals the feather hidden behind his back.

"It gave me this in its final moments—a surprise it brought for us all whenever we achieved victory at last."

Sir Ragnvindr's face crumples after that as he looks to the clear blue sky with shining red eyes. He closes the distance between them as he pulls the bard into a hug, not knowing it was all a lie from the start.

And the feather slips through Venti's fingers, flying off with the wind like a secret better left untold.

#genshin impact #genshin impact venti #genshin venti #venti #venti genshin impact #ask venti #venti ask blog #nameless bard #old mondstadt #sir ragnvindr #you know the guy from Venti's story quest cutscene that looks a lot like Diluc's ancestor #I just call him Sir Ragnvindr for convenience #I hope that was an interesting read ^^#please tell me what you think :D #genshin fanfic

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quinloki · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 - Day 1

Let's start things off with something... Sweet.

Character: Portgas D. Ace Reader: cis!fem Warnings: Mostly fluff, oral given, 18+ only

Notes: This is part of @nagumoan's Dance with the Dead Collab.

Summary: You and Ace decide to have a quiet Halloween at home for once, and he comes up with an idea to help you get through a scary movie. -:- 1668 words

Treats with Ace

“I’m not saying I don’t want to watch it,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying I’m a real pansy when it comes to scary movies, and I don’t know that I’ll get through the whole thing.”

Ace had put a DVD in to play after coming over to your apartment. The idea had been to celebrate Halloween a little more intimately than you usually did. No big costume parties, no getting home at 4 in the morning too sloshed to do much except peel off costumes and pass out.

A nice, quiet evening, just the two of you.

You made some Halloween themed snacks and Ace had brought the movie. You’d been hoping for something truly campy and awful, like Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, or something similar. Instead it was a legit, albeit still older, scary movie.

You weren’t upset, far from it, you just weren’t sure hiding behind Ace was going to be enough. You might have to get up and leave, and you didn’t want him to have to end the movie just because of you.

Ace gets a devious look on his face, grinning as he puts a hand along your shoulder. “I bet I can think of a way to help you get through it.”

You almost snort trying not to laugh. “Not being able to see the screen cause you’ve got your tongue half-way down my throat wouldn’t exactly be ‘getting me through it’.” You tease, leaning into him and tapping the tip of his nose.

He crinkled his face a little, wiggling his nose in response to the affectionate touch. “I promise, you’ll still be able to see the movie.”

You agree, and next thing you know you’re sitting almost on the edge of the couch. Almost every pillow in the house is behind you, letting you sit back a little despite being on the edge. Ace hits play on the movie and kneels down in front of you.

“Ace,” you start to say but he shushes you.

“Watch the movie, not me.” He says, sly smirk on his face as he tugs at the laces of your shoes. He looks up and gives you his earlier devious grin again. “Just use your safe word if you need me to stop.”

Ace moved slowly. Painfully slowly. The opening credits and scene had barely finished when he pulled your first shoe off. You were doing your best to ignore him, and focus on the movie, but his hands were hot against your legs, even with your pants still on.

When he took the first sock off you audibly gasped at the sensation of his bare hand against your skin. You heard him chuckle softly, rubbing his hand over your ankle before taking your other sock off. You were twenty minutes into the movie, and all you were certain about was that everyone in it was an idiot.

There was no amount of money that would convince you to go up to an old, abandoned asylum to spend the night. Especially if you had some kind of terrible secret in your closet that would be moral grounds to have you hunted by tortured spirits.

Ace’s hands wandered up your legs, and you glanced down at him nervously before looking back at the movie.

“Ah-Ace?” You question, your heart was almost pounding in your ears. Even through your pants, the heat and weight of his hands were sinking into you.

“I’m just going to take your pants off.” He says it almost flatly, despite the smirk on his face, and it takes you a second to process what he’s saying.

“Yeah, uh – huh?” You look down as he grips your hips and leans in, mouth open as he hooks his teeth onto the button of your jeans, tugging it free. Your hands are on his shoulders, and you scoot back into the couch a little, but the dense pack of pillows behind you doesn’t let you get far. “Ace!”

“Keep your eyes on the movie.” He says before taking the zipper clasp between his teeth and pulling it down.

“My eyes might be on the screen, but my brain isn’t paying attention.” You whine, as hot hands slip under your shirt and caress your stomach and sides. “D-Do any of these people survive?”

“Couple,” he answers off-handedly, moving his hands around to your back and lifting you a little while pulling your pants down at the same time. You lean back, gasping as you lift your hips to help him.

He pulls your pants down slowly, leaning over and leaving soft and dry, but warm kisses against your thighs as he inches them down. You have an iron grip on the couch, trying desperately not to squirm, and also to keep your eyes on the TV.

At this point you didn’t give a shit about the movie itself. The asylum ghosts could win for all you cared, and you didn’t normally like really dark endings like that. But the tension was nothing compared to what Ace was doing to you, and the tanned, freckled, tattooed brat you called your boyfriend had barely even begun.

As his kisses pass your knee his hands grab onto your calf, holding one leg and then the other still as he pulls your pants off. His kisses give way to his tongue as he licks your shin, sending odd shivers down to your toes and up your thighs, the sharp, teasing sensation of his teeth dragging against your skin randomly.

Now at least you knew why he’d been holding your leg so firmly. Your fists slam into the couch cushions when he repeated the process with the other leg. The strange sensation wasn’t unpleasant, far from it, but you felt like you were caught between being tickled and teased.

Ace settled in between your thighs, pushing your legs open wide. “Your panties are soaked.” He teases, looking up at you. You can feel his gaze on you, but you’re trying to keep your eyes on the movie.

“N-no talking,” you stammer. “I… I won’t be able to hear the movie.”

“Sure, sure.” He muses, leaning in and licking along the inside of your thigh. Your breath falls out of your mouth like fog – heavy and low. You can barely keep your eyes on the screen as his tongue slides up toward your hips.

Ace’s dark eyes lock onto yours as he continues to the line of your thigh, pulling your panties aside just enough to lick the crease where your legs meet your hips. He doesn’t even tell you to watch the movie before he’s pulling your panties down your thighs.

He leans back enough to bring your legs together long enough to pull them off and away, pushing your legs open wide as he leans back into you. He’s level with your face for a moment, kissing you sweetly, and all too briefly before he gives the tip of your nose a quick peck.

“Watch. The movie.” He emphasizes, before shifting back down between your thighs. He watches you for a moment, making sure you’ve managed to rip your gaze away from him and back to the television.

You have no idea what’s happening in the movie. People are dying, the ghosts seem to be winning, a couple people seem to be mostly on the innocent side, and at least smart enough to have survived so long. Right now though, you can’t even really remember the name of the movie, let alone anything else.

Ace licks the other crease of your thigh, and you let out a shivering gasp, almost crying to keep your eyes up and on the TV. His arms hook around your thighs, and your fingers slip through his hair even as you keep watching the movie. Fingers spread you open, his hot breath washing over your wet and desperate clit.

The first swift flick of his tongue against your twitching pussy nearly causes you to scream, and if not for his arms around your thighs your hips would’ve come up off the couch entirely. You didn’t get a chance to admonish him for it, before he dived in entirely, his lips and tongue licking and sucking your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your body tensing as pleasure jolted through you like lightning.

He held you in place, arms braced against your hips, mouth nearly suctioned in place. He was well-practiced at pleasuring you, but tonight was the first time he’d teased you for so long before getting started. You hadn’t realized how turned on you’d been until your toes and torso were curling as your legs shivered.

“Ahhh-sssss!” You drag out his name, not quite saying it right as pleasure pulled your muscles tight. He didn’t stop, only grunting a little as you tugged on his hair harder than you meant to.

You sink into the pillows and the couch, releasing your grip on Ace’s hair, eyes hazy and body hot. Ace gives you a few more long, lazy licks, making your body twitch and your breath come out in shaky moans, before looking up at you with a grin.

“I should have you watch a scary movie more often.” He says, bringing your legs up with him as he leans up and over you enough to kiss you. “You came so fast.”

“Y-you teased me for forty minutes!” You protest, laughing as he nuzzles into your neck.

“All I did was undress you.”

“And kiss my legs,” you insist. “And then licked me. And then teased me!” Your protest falls into a moan as he grinds the bulge in his pants against your bare pussy.

“Gonna forgive me?” He muses, shifting his hips and listening to your needy sounds.

You lean back a little, admiring that crooked smile. You look down, tilting your head, before looking back up at him.

“Give me a proper treat, Portgas,” you drive your point home by grinding back against him. “And I will.”

#Release the Quin #Kinktober 2023 #x reader #reader insert #portgas d. ace #portgas d ace #dwtdcollab

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