#dol kylar smut

[neetily]

Just Hanging Out — M!Robin, M!Kylar, M!Whitney, M!Sydney

— ✧ warnings: Piss kink, pissing, Cockwarming, Fingering, Creampie — ✧ word count: 1,117 — ✧ genre: smut (18+)

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Late at night, when most of the orphanage has went to bed and all the lights are out lest Bailey shows up to shout expletives; a bright screen illuminates your face. Robin's, too, though less so with the way he's got you situated on his lap, the low drone from the video game filling the room does very little to hide his huffed breaths heaved from behind you. Brushing up against your neck, your back to his chest; it's rather warm, isn't it? Both of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, controller in his twitching hands resting between your legs. You're so soft, did you know that? Completely exposed and trembling against him, letting out little gasps for air and bitten back moans. Gotta stay quiet, he'd reminded you. The late night gaming session paired with his head buried in the crook of your neck, half closed eyes just barely focusing on the blurry screen in a half hearted attempt to pass the next level, cock buried deep in your squishy cunt for you to squirm on. It's his favourite way to game, he decides, forcing you to endure cockwarming him as some sort of private game only he can play with you. Even if you can't be as loud as he'd like to make you, feeling you struggle to sit still enough for him to win the game is addictive, drooling over your sensitive neck in mutual frustration. The casual setting just getting to him when he's balls deep in you, struggling himself. Who will win, do you think?

Though he'd never encourage it, seeing your pretty face show up in the library as you skip classes to be with him is secretly Sydney's favourite sight. Reading time, right? That, similarly, is his favourite time of day. Pulling out a new book, getting you situated on a seat in a hidden corner of the library with him by your side, pressed shoulder to shoulder so that you can see the words too. It's fun getting to read with you, not just because he enjoys experiencing new things with you, a shared interest in literature is a good way to spend some time together, he thinks. But also, more selfishly, because the cute way you shift in your seat as he pushes another finger into your little cunt is by far the best part of it all, no? Slowly, almost lazily, fucking his fingers into you. One by one, never missing a beat in the story as he finger fucks in and out of you idly, cock straining in his dress pants from the blatantly loud squelch your cunt makes in the relatively quiet library. Curling his fingers against your sweet spot when he's knuckle deep, only taking a break from the story to gently remind you to hush, you're in the library, when you start to moan a little too loud for his liking. He can't help but to tease you!

Kylar can't seem to focus on anything useful when you ask him how his day was, finding it difficult to keep his lewd expressions contained when you're bouncing on his cock so well like that. His tummy filled with butterflies at the way you seem to act so... Casual, as if you weren't riding him into the sheets below right now, his nervous fingers digging into your hips with a thick gulp. He can never answer you appropriately when you take to engaging in small talk while fucking him, his voice coming out all strained and broken. F-fine, he usually responds with; regardless of if that's true or not. It's just, well... Fuck, he feels so fucking stupid when you circle your hips on his lap like that, eyelashes fluttering shut as you continue to talk absentmindedly. Like you couldn't care less for his answer, God that's so hot. What did you do today, Kylar? as you drag your hips forward, grinding your pretty puffy clit against his pelvis, still yet looking unbothered by the way his cock throbs inside of you. I, uh... I don't know, nothing? he answers with a moan, back arching off the sheets when you drag your hips back down his pulsing cock. Did you at least eat well today? you ask nonchalantly, and his mind is so fucking blank from the inane conversation and bland tone you adopt that he hasn't even got the chance to warn you of his approaching orgasm before he shoots a load inside of you, cheeks red hot at the realisation that he's came to mere chitchat. That's how much he loves you, gasping a quick no to answer your previous unimportant question as you effortlessly milk him with a bored expression.

He knew you'd be in here like clockwork, waiting for him to show up like how he always does every morning before classes start. The mundanity of it all is exciting to Whitney, swinging the bathroom stall open to find you standing where you should be, toying with the hem of your shirt in assumed giddiness for the daily ritual. So normal is the routine, in fact, that he no longer has to prompt you into pulling your skirt up for him, the sight of your no panties aiding his fat cock to harden as he whips it out above the toilet. There's no need to use it though, is there? Stroking himself once or twice to make sure he's fully hard, enough to easily glide his twitching tip into your tight little hole just in time, too. You should be thankful he refuses to use the bathroom at home, dealing with the uncomfortable pressure in his tummy all the way to school just for you. A quite hiss escaping him at the warm feeling that immediately wraps around him, little cunt instantly coaxing piss to stream out from his erection as if begging to be used. His own personal toilet, wrapping an arm around your back to keep you pressed snug against him, unable to stop the barely there humps inside of you as he pisses, emptying himself into his favourite hole. Huffing right against your ear as he bends his upper body into you, marking your insides with his piss, just keeping the freaks away from my slut, he reminds you. And it's a long piss too, some of it dripping from your filled up hole to coat his cock, dribbling down to the actual toilet under you as he finishes with a shaky sigh. And that's all he ever does, pulling out to gently dab himself clean now that's he's done pissing. See ya in an hour or somethin' he taps your cheek twice before leaving.

[mellowwillowy]

I don't think I would ever be aroused by a loser (and inexperienced) yandere no matter how beautiful they are unless they are giving me aphrodisiac or toys. Like they'd actually crack your dick instead of giving it a proper handjob or riding it. They'd mistake your holes ironically. They'd even cum just from having any physical contact of their sex with you. They are an absolute loser. They drool and babble like an idiot while fucking you, all tears and snot.

They would talk about eradicating all the other love interests but couldn't even properly prepare you. Be prepared for a bad time unless they accidentally gave you an aphrodisiac or toy early on.

[allfearstofallto]

Male Kylar x Fem! Reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dub-con, BDSM, Anal, Pegging

Much to your annoyance, Kylar constantly begged you to fuck him. He'd hump against your leg like a dog in heat, with tears in his eyes he'd plead you for just a touch. For a taste of your body. He only wanted you just once he said, knowing that he was lying, but the painful ache in his pants couldn't be sated by his hands any longer. He promise he'd be good if you just let him put it inside you.

The day you finally decide to give him what he wants, he's over the moon. Kylar lays on your bed, naked with his dick twitching and hard. He's never leaked this much precum before, the entire tip of his cock looking wet and slick with the liquid. He's just waiting for you. You who said that you needed to step into the bathroom to freshen up.

He tries to hold back the shock he's feeling when you finally step into your bedroom. Your bare tits sitting beautifully has him panting, your waist, your stomach, but then his eyes fall on something else. The large pink strap-on cock that's on your body.

"Spread your legs,"

Out of fear, he'll do so immediately, knees pulling apart while trembling. You'll position yourself between them, grabbing his thighs to keep him spread open. A bottle of lube will be pulled from your bedside table, something he was certain was going to be used on you, but instead the slimy liquid drenches his asshole.

The fake, plastic cock pushes into his ass, making him see stars for a moment. His first time ever doing something like this is with you, which makes him happy, but the way you're mercilessly pounding into him is uncomfortable. He begs you to stop or slow down. Instead you grab his cock, using all that precum he had as lube as you stroke it at the same pace that you're fucking him.

He sobs that it's painful. That he doesn't want it. He starts those pathetic moans for a while, but after a few moments of you hitting his prostate with the tip of your cock, his sobs of pain turn to moans of pleasure.

"M-mo...more!" He manages to stutter out, causing you to smirk down at him.

And you give him more. Spreading his legs wider to give yourself access to that tight hole. He mewls while grabbing at your hips, trying to keep you as deep inside his ass as possible. He's drooling all over himself while taking it, little toes curling at each thrust.

He can't even announce that he's about to cum, all that leaves his lips is mumbled gibberish. But you feel it. The way his ass is squeezing your cock tells you enough.

He shivers a bit, green eyes clenched shut. His dick twitching in your hand, his balls tensing. His cum shoots from his cock. Shot after shot of the white liquid, as be practically screams out in pleasure. His face and chest are covered in his cum, a beautiful sight to behold.

You pull out from his ass and his body goes limp. He lays there on your bed, covered in his own semen, body shaking every so often. He falls asleep like this, without your permission. But as he snuggles into your bed, you find yourself unable to wake him.

He'll definitely ask you to fuck him again.

[ghostbxne]

For the drawing rec from twitter MORE KYLAR PLEEEESEEE OMG

i am on a roll…. as usual full posted on twt

[apple-orchards-writings]

two hubbies that co-own you :) they pamper you and organize sacrifices while you fall asleep in their laps <3

^^^^^^^ IF YOU DON'T ELABORATE ON THIS I. WILL. PERISH!!! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE APPLE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT REPLY GOT ME JSJBDBRBDJRJR

Every morning you wake up, in both of your lovers' arms. Everything feels right with the world. You try to get up and get dressed, but they don't want you to, stay in bed with them and enjoy the morning, who cares if they have duties. After you manage to convince them to get out of bed (probably after some morning sex, let's be real), they'll bicker over what jewellery you should wear the gold one with white accents or the black one with green accents.

They ultimately settle on both, complete with your usual collar, both of their names written on the little tag. Before they can start fighting on what you wear, you call in your handmaidens, and they help you choose a nice outfit, not too revealing, but still enough for your picky lovers to be satisfied. The next step is to have a nice breakfast, and today it's Sydney's turn to have you on his lap, though you both know that by the end of the meal, Kylar will have joined you, envious as he is.

When you move to the audience room to hear petitioners, you move next to Kylar's seat, and he enthusiastically grabs at you, dragging you in his lap and holding you there so you can fall asleep in his arms. He keeps you there for the rest of the morning, barely even listening to the people making demands, more focused on your steady breathing and the way you look so sweet and pliant, just for him (and Sydney).

Lunch time comes around, and Kylar wakes you up, smiling down at your sleepy face. All three of you get a nice lunch in the boudoir, your lovers refusing to let you do the slightest bit of work, insisting on feeding you. Usually this would also be a time to have some fun, but you're a bit too sleepy for that today, maybe later.

You let yourself drift off a little more in your lovers' embrace for a little longer, until you have to move to another part of the temple to witness the sacrifices. Not your favorite part of the day, but it is necessary, and Kylar will not let you skip out on it. You're about to get up when Sydney gathers you up in his big beefy arms and smiles down at you, carrying you to the altar room.

There, in between the two thrones, sits a nice, comfortable bean bag with a blanket, which you promptly wrap yourself in, curling up while you let Kylar do all the talking. His hand comes down to pet your head, brushing through your hair, and you lean into it before grabbing one of the books you left here last time, and diving into it, forgetting all about the sacrifice. You're only taken out of it when hearing the screams of the victim, but Sydney covers your eyes and shushes you gently when you turn to look, not to protect your innocence really, but mostly to have your full attention on him.

He motions for you to sit on his lap, and you climb to sit, facing him. You don't have to wonder what compelled him to ask you for long, because he's already grinding on you, not focusing on anything around the two of you anymore. He's panting quietly in your ear, hands holding onto your hips to push you down on him, telling you to be quiet in hushed whispers. You look to your left, and Kylar is struggling to not stare at you, you can see his jaw clenching and his fists crunching up his robes.

Sydney's going faster now, biting his lip to try and stay silent, and you can feel his hard on now, even with the robes in the way. Your little gasps and whimpers have not escaped Kylar's notice, and he seems to have teared up his robes with how hard he's clutching them. You reach out to at least hold his hand, which he gratefully takes and brings to his mouth, sucking on your fingers.

Sydney's noticed your little noises too, and decides to kiss you to shut you both up effectively, which works a little, until he's biting and sucking at your lip. His hand moves to disrobe himself slightly, making you feel the heat of him even more. When you expect it to move away when he's done displacing his clothing, he instead takes the opportunity to slip his hand in your underwear, stroking at your core.

He's now sucking on your neck uncaring of any moans that slip out of you. His only goal is to make you cum now, he needs you to finish before him. He speeds up, his hand moving even faster and his hips thrusting harder. In a few short strokes, you come undone, and he allows himself to let go, ruining your outfit.

Before you can turn around to face the group of flustered cultists, you hear Kylar order for the proceedings to finish immediately, before he takes you from Sydney's arms and carries you to the bedchamber. He's determined to have his turn.

Once you're done with that, which is to say, a few hours later, you rejoin Sydney in the dining room, finally getting your own chair for the first time today. All three of you discuss advancements in the cult or the book you're reading lately, basically making pleasant conversation, before you're done eating and servants come to take away the empty plates.

You're then guided to your private bathroom by your lovers, who insist on holding your hands, even if you remind them you know where it is by now. They help you undress and wash, fondly lathering you in soap as you return the favor, fooling around and splashing each other, leaving responsibilities behind, in this moment you three can just be loving, and not care about the world outside. There are no fights, no arguments here, only tenderness and pure unadulterated love.

When all of you are squeaky clean and the water is getting cold, you relocate to your bedchambers, where you can prepare for a full night's rest, if nothing, or rather no one, disturbs your sleep tonight. You slip into bed, awaiting your lovers to cuddle and let yourself drift off in their arms again, until you wake up the next morning, ready to tackle the next day.

[theroyalyandere]

I'm going to drop by just to share this thought..

fem!PC/reader x male!Kylar

CW: lactation, dry humping, handjobs

I dreamt of PC going to m!Kylar so he can nurse on her lactating breasts and he eagerly suckles on her like a baby as PC coos at him brushing his disheveled hair on his forehead so she can look at his eyes. Eventually the green eyed loner started to hump PC's thighs making her even more aroused. She takes his hardened cock out of his shorts and begins stroking him while Kylar moans on her tits from the stimulation. A few more strokes and a few more suckles Kylar cums all over her hand, his thighs trembling as he gets praised for being such a good boy. PC licks the cum from her hand and Kylar watches with fascination before she leans down to kiss him. Kylar happily kisses back tasting his cum from her mouth.

[sydneysholylight]

— a ѕιnnerѕ ιndυlgence [ SERIES ]

╰⪼ heed the warnings: MALE PC/LI, Religious themed, coercion, implied switch!Sydney , nsfw, unfortunate grinding, implied harassment, implied corruption kink, implied stalking, groping, public sex (?), slightly proof-read, 2k words.

╰⪼ heed the note: this will be based on my au of my PC but with major changes, headcannons may appear however but I'll keep things that is canon for this one. I can make a female version of this if you kindly ask, let me know if I missed anything.

╰⪼ You were a new student attending a local school in a town with an odd feel in the air, something sinister mixed with a tinge of scarce purity. You couldn't remember anything when you woke up in the hospital, you woke up frantic and ran away. your memories remained a blur and the temple nearby took you in as one of their own, much to their delight as those prying eyes hovered to the halo glowing above your head and their hands brushing against the feathers of your wings, you were what they called and honored, an angel, a holy being, a divine messenger of god and a protector of humankind.

However, you felt far from an angel and how they portrayed an angel should be, strong willed, protective, god-fearing and so on and so on — on another note, you ponder, who exactly is god? What does a god exactly do? And why have they not contacted you since you've woken up? You brought this concern to your peers, Jordan to be specific, he told you in a soft voice “Patience is virtue, holy one,” he took a bow down “They will seek time with you.” He finished his message before apologizing he had to go attend his duties. Your mind was filled with questions that were yet to unfold, you felt lost and started questioning your purpose.

Over the past few days since you've started residing in the temple, Jordan noticed you were having trouble socializing with the initiates, unable to follow up with their social cues and norms, Jordan ought to himself he would help you fit in once more, thus reached out to Sydney to help you — whose reputation precedes himself to be an “innocent” boy, he was the librarians assistant, he was eager to help you out, the thought of helping out someone, especially an angel, he couldn't help but feel honored and nervous to be near such holy presence however he felt tempted to prey around you and capture you, as to lure you in the dark and the joy of living as a sinner. The ecstasy it gives, the pleasure it comes with. Perhaps if he gave you his world, then will the temple realize, the fun temptation and lust have is worth it, you just have to pray and pray, pray and pray, pray and pray — pray.

You sighed, perhaps it's best for time to pass through and enjoy your life as it is in the moment, patience is truly a virtue after all, you have enough time to figure out the rest later on, walking over to your bed, picking up your bad on the soft mattress, you looked up to the right and at the clock ‘ 6:23 pm ‘ you have enough time to walk to the temple, pray for awhile and walk to school with Sydney. You went downstairs, relishing in your surroundings, it made you feel alive. The older orphans were discussing with each other what to do after school as the younger ones played around with one another, the sight of life in such joyous motion was a sight to behold..

Putting the thought aside, you made your way to the temple but without peace, you've always felt a pair of eyes watching every step you take, it was suffocating. It started after saving a poor boy that was being harassed by the other students, of course you don't believe it was him who was watching you, you don't even have proof and it goes against your morality — and your beliefs, perhaps it's the gang of students who were harassing him? You shudder at the thought, as much you'd like to deny it, the possibility is high. Perhaps it's the best time now to make friends and work on your reputation, as you think of who to befriend, you were in front of the temple. You walked inside, bowing and greeting the older and high ranking members of the temple, giving humble blessings before going to the pew of the far left side. You smiled and greeted Sydney “Good morning.” You whispered, he moved to give you space to join him.

You noticed his hair was down as you laid your bag aside and kneeled down on the cushion, you closed your eyes and clasped your hands together, praying for the remaining time.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you slightly as you looked up to Sydney, who was smiling at you “It's time to go, wanna walk together?” He asked before hesitantly holding his hand to you, you nodded and took his hand, as he helped you get up, he blushed, looking at his hand you held for a brief moment, before you could notice, he turned his back away “Thank you Sydney and yes, of course. You make a great companion.” You smiled as the two of you walked to school together, you appreciated how he was a sweet boy who was willing to help you, defending you from the students probing and harassment in the library and kept you company while Robin was gone for a week.

You looked up to his hair “May I ask why you changed your usual look? Not like it looks bad, it looks good just like you with a ponytail.” You said, your hand aching to touch his hair, painted with color that fit him well, you were surprised to learn it was his natural color. Sydney noticed that you wanted to touch his hair, grabbing it with surprising strength, making you gasp in shock “Sydney?” he widened his eyes “Sorry! Sorry! I was startled.” He mumbled and grabbed your hand softly this time, brushing it against his hair “you're one of the few I'd let touch my hair..” he murmured “Do you like my hair down? You mentioned you were curious after I caught you drawing me with my hair down, I think you drew it accurately.” He smiled, a tinge of red on his cheeks, you looked away, embarrassed at the mention of that incident “I.. thank you.” You mumbled “We should hurry up, I need to study and you need to work.” You said as the two of you head to the entrance.

The both of you departed, you head to an exclusive table of the library, far from the entrance as you noticed it's more silent compared to the tables near the entrance, as you sat down, you grabbed your science textbook you rented and dived into the lesson Sirris mentioned yesterday, unaware of a familiar boy with strawberry blonde hair watching you from the very corner of his eyes, hovering over your figure.

After school finished, you decided to stay with Sydney for the remaining time in school, you had an appointment with Harper today, the temple advised you to meet him every appointment to ensure your health is in good condition, they mentioned your body works differently from a human, hence why they insist you go to the hospital however, something about him felt off, you don't know why but the way he looks and talks to you, it feels like he's hiding something. Perhaps you haven't completely adjusted to human society, perhaps it's normal after all, humans are different from one another.

“Hello Sydney, where were you during lunch?” You asked, you were hoping to have lunch together with him as you noticed Robin wasn't here today and you didn't see him in the library either, Sydney looked at you, something in his gaze felt unusual “I decided to have lunch in the library.” A lie, you knew and it is also a sin, you frowned, he was strong in his faith and joined the temple at an early age, did something happen for him to sin like this? You walk towards the counter “Really? Why?” You stared at him, who stared back “Can I ask you a question?” He suddenly asked, you nodded in response “Have you wondered to yourself what it feels to be a sinner?”....... what?

He looked around, seemingly nervous before walking closer “have you?” He whispered, the distance between you and him and the question made you increasingly nervous “Sydney, the temple advises all of us not to think and delve into such iniquitous thoughts!” You said, biting your lip as Sydney stares down “But that's what the temple thinks, how about you? What do you personally think being a sinner feels like?” He said, his response getting you off guard, he held your hand in a gentle manner, seemingly persuasive in getting your answer.

“I.. I.. I don't know Sydney.” You responded, you averted your gaze away from him, your breath hitched as you could feel his breath on your neck, whispering to your ear “It's fun, really.” He whispered, you widen your eyes please don't tell me— “what do you mean..?” You asked in a hushed voice, refusing to meet his gaze “..To tell you the truth, before your arrival, I indulged myself into…things the students talk about,” he said, taking a slight step back before continuing “It felt freeing.” He finished, cupping your face softly “Would it not hurt to try?” He whispered “See things in my perspective?”

“I.. The temple—” “The temple hides nothing but what we can do.” He cut you off “And we will be careful, you just have to trust me, okay?” he said, you nodded nervously as you let Sydney take the lead, taking you and him to the school's changing room, he pushed you gently to the dressing room “Let's hope nobody finds us.” He chuckled before taking your hand together with his, kissing it “Feeling comfortable?” He asked, checking for your consent, you nodded “I..I feel rather nervous, actually, I feel very nervous.” You mumbled. He chuckled in response.

“It's okay, it'll be fine. I was too.” He whispered before kissing you, taking advantage of your surprise as he inserted his tongue inside your mouth, reveling the sight of your reaction before taking a step back, he let go of your hand as he focused on unbuttoning your shirt, he took a good look of your chest, you resisted the urge to cover up as you look at him “Cute.” He smirked, caressing your cheeks “I..” “Don't be ashamed of your body, you're a beauty.” He whispered, earning a chuckle from you “than- ugh-” your breath hitched as he circles his thumbs around your nipples, he pushed you against a wall “Sensitive?” He teased, kissing you on the forehead “how does it feel?”

“It… It feels good.” You responded hesitantly, muffling a moan as he puts his knee against your groan “Sydney…” you panted, he moved on to removing your pants, placing his leg away, you tried not to make it obvious you wanted him to keep going “I forgot I still have my chastity cage on.” He groaned before kneeling down and removing your underwear and sighed at the sight of the familiar device “It's okay, there are other ways to make people orgasm.” He whispered before making you lay on your back, he unzipped his pants, you noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear “Isn't that against the school rules..?” You asked, biting your lip “Who cares if they don't know?” He responded.

He leaned in, kissing you on the neck as he shifted his hips upwards, making sure his chastity cage was above yours — fondling with your balls with his right hand as the other went on circling your nipples “So gorgeous..” he panted, sucking in your neck as he continues grinding against you, making sure to press against you hard as he could, the metal head of the cage could be felt on the visible parts of your penis, sending sparks up your spine due to how cold it felt, Sydney groaned, clearly frustrated “I wanna be inside you so bad..” he whined, pressing you against him harder, putting your legs on his shoulder, aligning his penis against your hole, trying to insert himself in “I swear I'll get the keys for these stupid things..” he mumbled, fastening his pace, you moaned slightly as he build up friction “Have I ever told you I've always admired you?” He panted, resting his head on your shoulder, relishing the warmth of your naked body.

“I'm close..” he panted, kissing your neck as you gripped on his shoulder, his lips felt warm against your skin, you muffled a moan as you felt his hands intruding their way to your balls once more, squeezing and rubbing it — the sensation was unfamiliar, strange but welcome, an unfamiliar wave of pleasure went through your body, your cock spurting out cum as you moaned against his neck, you could feel cum dripping down where your chastity cage was “You already came- oh-” he gasped as you kissed his neck, making him come immediately after “I..” he blushed, you stared at him with reddened cheek “Did I do good..?” You asked meekly, bitting the inside of your mouth as he nodded “Of course! That.. that felt amazing… it's quite the bummer though I wasn't able to be inside of you..and you inside of me.” He blushed, laying his head on your chest “how'd it feel?” He asked, smiling at you “It felt unfamiliar… but at the same time good.” He grinned “I knew you'd like it.” He said before helping you stand up, he insisted on helping you dress up, taking advantage of the opportunity to occasionally grope you. He cupped your cheeks “We should do this more, it's fun right? To see the perspective of a sinner?” He leaned in, and you looked away “The temple..” you said quietly, he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours “They won't find out, we'll try to keep it as a secret. They don't have to find out, we can still continue as we are as normal publicly.” He said “and you mentioned you can't remember anything in the past, right? Perhaps in a way, this might help you.” You couldn't help but feel tempted at the thought, you were getting tired of the same answers from the temple anyways. “Fine… just… be careful, I don't wanna get you hurt.” You said, he chuckled “Of course, of course, welcome to my world.”

[paper-bag-boy]

jealous kylar (pt 1)

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 33. M!Kylar (Worship & Watersports)

— ✧ warnings: body worship, watersports, piss, yandere, piss kink, fluff, fluffy, bathing — ✧ word count: 2,592

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

If his heart was beating any faster than it already is, he's sure he'd be having a clinical heart attack by now.

Shivering in the tub, despite the water you had ran for him being hot— perhaps a little too much so, given how red his body looks from head to toe— excitement fills him full. Pools in his tummy, has his breath all shaky and unstable as you make him wait like a good dog. Naked and exposed for you to leer at as you undress too, he struggles to keep his eyes off of you in spite of the giddy vulnerability that courses through his veins. Unsure of if he's even allowed to take a peek, and inevitably doing so anyway as the shuffles of clothing beg for his attention.

A trembled "Oh..." escapes him at the angelic sight, barely there and hardly audible given how loudly his heart thumps for you, a complete and utter mess for you before you've even gotten in the bath with him. Unable to voice the overfilled affections he regards you with, spilling out instead as sighs and gasps as he witnesses the perfection that you are, how soft and pretty you look when undressing before him, matching his state of undress with such ease that he feels as though he's going to choke on how much he adores you.

And the loving smile you adorn when catching his eye only exacerbates his issue, prompting him into giving you a forced rushed smile in return. A creepy one, he's been told. Bullied into submission over before by others, but the way you so easily allow him to melt before you is unusually comforting; stark acceptance is not something he's used to, you know?

But it almost pains him, in a sense. To have someone as perfect and pretty as you inch closer towards him, his gaze uncertain of where it wants to settle because there are so many choices to pick from when it comes to you. Your face is so beautiful to him, of course, but especially when you smile upon him like that. Like you embody the sun itself, captured by his dirty hands so that only he may feel your warmth shining down on him. And your body, God— he can think of no word other than perfect, dripping down his throat with suffocating compliance, as if merely watching you step into the bath with him was a miracle in and of itself, something borne out of his late night fantasies and only those lewd imaginings. It's a difficult pill to swallow that you're enacting his deepest secrets willingly, unprompted. You get it, right?

Only, this doesn't feel lewd, does it? Despite the fact that both he and yourself are naked, the water splashing around him gently as you dip into the tub with him, his vision honing in on the way your tits bounce with your movements, prompting him to swallow the lump of love deep seated in his throat so that he can mutter a soft "Hello.", this isn't lust induced by any stretch of the imagination. This isn't lewd so much as it is love, right? Pure, unadulterated, love. The thought of which makes his chest all tight, feeling a little lightheaded as you get comfortable and settled at the other end of the tub from him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. And really, deep down, he knows that it is; two lovers sharing the water together is expected, right? Allowing him the pleasure of simply staring, letting his eyes travel all over your body as you sit pretty for him, cock understandably twitching under the water for attention as he gawks openly at the way you tenderly rub at your arms, get yourself all wet.

"Is the water a good temperature?" Your voice suddenly pulls him from his self indulgent thoughts, and he's quick to reassure you that yes, it's perfect, just like you, with a snap nod. Voice lost on him with how close you are to him right now, his jaw tight and tense and lips sealed out of fear of saying the wrong thing, not when you're being so kind to him.

Which is a strange feeling, he settles on. It feels weird to have you be so affectionate towards him, to simply exist by his side without expecting anything else of him— and yet still, it's nice. A welcome change of pace, now that you've accepted your place by his side. A little weirdness never hurt him before, so he does his best to welcome your generosity with, well, he can't say open arms. Not when he hugs his knees tight to his chest at the tap end of the bath, humming absently to himself at the way his cock hardens between his legs, thighs squishing around his length out of obligation rather than anything else. The silence you offer him in return feels light, almost airy in how low your expectations are, and he's not quite sure how to proceed.

Not because he doesn't have things he wants to say or things he wants to do, but because you look upon him with such love. So much reassurance in your half lidded gaze, the feeling of your toes rubbing soothingly along the underside of his thighs as he shakes before you, how every time you move your body a little bit of the water spills over and out of the tub, his emotions with it.

He finds himself relating to the tub, and how small it feels now that you're in it with him. Residing in his heart, always, turning the empty space fit to burst with your mere presence. He relates to the spilling water in a way closely linked to his excitement, how overwhelming it feels when it burrows down to his tummy, making his cock all twitchy against him, how he feels as though he's about to vomit any time your eyes land on his and he has to immediately look away. He's reminded of how you laugh at him some days, reminding him that he wanted this, so why is he so shy now? The kind of excitement that leaves him stuttering, quiet, going with the flow of you as he's renders a mere spill to the floor.

"You know," You start, his eyes darting to your face, pupils surely blown wide from how hazy his vision appears. The dulcet tone of your voice alone is enough to leave him overstimulated, a burn at his core giving way to something he really shouldn't do, so he ignores it for now. Would rather listen to you talk for hours and hours and hours anyway. "I read online somewhere , I don't remember where... That, um... Well, maybe it's just an anecdote, now that I think about it, but," God, fuck, he's so terribly in love with you and your rambling, seething behind his knees, peering above them as you make idle chatter between grabbing the soap by your side and glaring at his meek attitude. "Baths can cure ninety percent of what's wrong with you. That there's very little baths can't help you with, y'know? Something about water being healing, or whatever." You giggle, and he thinks to himself that rather than the bath water being what cures him, it's the high pitched tone of your laughter that'll heal all that ails him. The sentiment is nice, though. You're nice, prompting him into turning around, offering your soapy hand to his back.

"Oh, y-you don't need to, y'know..." He trails off, cheeks heated at the understanding of what you're asking him to do, worried that he may taint you the same way he's been dirtied already, and yet—

"Please. I'd like to, you'll do it for me, right?"

"A-Always... If you're sure..."

You've likened him to a dog plenty times before, and he thinks he finally understands it now. The feeling of your tender loving paw against his shivering skin, rubbing in the soap, letting it soak through his filth; he's both surprised and a little ashamed at how much he loves the feeling of being looked after by you, fervour rising tight in his body, cock twitching away in private as you do good to care for him. And just like the dog you claim him to be, he can't help but to yearn, deep in the pit of his stomach, in his heart, in his hazy mind, and in his throbbing cock, to do whatever you so much as ask of him— not in the least including allowing you to wash him, soaping together in a sacred act of affection. Look, he begs to whisper, how eager I am to drown for you. Soaking up all that your light touch has to offer him, seeping deeper into the water and, by extension, in closer proximity against you. Instinctively leaning back to give you more surface area to cover, keeping his face hidden behind his knees, cowering from the amount of care and attention your promising fingers imbue into him. He's never been treated so kindly before, a soft fuzz filling his lungs at just how slow and careful you are, making sure to reach every inch of his skin. And it feels funny in his tummy to be the one being worshipped, but it's a feeling he wants for more than anything else to get used to, especially since you're so good at it.

Not lewd, remember, but rather... Adoration. Innocent devotion, if he wanted to be flowery about it. An uncharacteristically soft smile tugging on his lips for only him to see as your silky smooth hands wash over his shoulders, tracing the outline of his spine, and back up again. A rushed gasp escaping him when your eager fingers traverse around to his chest, wrapping him up in one big frothy hug for him to whine at.

"You know," Another rub of his chest, touching him so gently, so lightly, as if you were afraid he'd shatter before you if you applied any ounce more of pressure to his shaking frame. He's not used to this sort of worship, the ghostly touch you offer him as you help clean his chest, his neck, the feeling of your hands wrapped around his gasping throat causing his cock to twitch some more, to spill precum all over the bath water as you apply just the minimal amount of pressure to edge his excitement. And in his tummy, the pressure increases too, only without your touch. A creeping, growing need coiling ever tighter with each second of your love that passes by. "I've always thought, you... As in the general you, maybe not you specifically..." another giggle, sounding right by his ear for him to gulp at. Yeah, he thinks to himself. You're probably right. You've come to know him so intimately that he's sure you know him better than himself by now, which is why he trusts you so wholeheartedly to look after him, to praise each individual limb of his until you're satisfied. It's the least he could do, he thinks. "You could fuck anyone, right? Easily done. But, there are very few people you'd be willing to share a bath with."

In that, you love him enough to do so, right? In that, as he melts into the warm water surrounding him, leaning against your naked front to peer up at you with a wobble in his lips, he's lucky, right?

He's only ever wanted you. Obsessed from the beginning, willing and wanting to worship every part of you for all eternity— and yet here he is, cock rock hard and ignored, letting you grab the bottle of shampoo to slowly scrub his head clean, each and every dig of your nails against his scalp whispering reverence, his easily excitable attitude getting the better of him as he suddenly jumps away from you the moment he feels his eyes start to close in an attempt to escape you tender clutches.

"Kylar?" Ah, the worry lacing your words doesn't help his position, making that tight ball of need grow increasingly bigger. "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah..." He mumbles more to himself than anything else, fists balled between his legs— if he had a tail, it'd surely be wagging furiously from how happy he is right now, in spite of his outward anxieties. "It's— It's just, um..."

You hum, and he wants to look at you, to reassure you that his reaction to the gentle care you've provided him isn't the reason behind his scare. But rather, something a little more embarrassing. A product of his dog like excitement, chewing on his bottom lip in idle fascination. He's never quite felt this way before, it's nice to experience it for the first time with the love of his life.

"It's okay," You shuffle closer, much like earlier when you had inched towards the tub, his heart stuttering in his chest from sheer nervous delight thrumming through him, making his cock all wet and ah, the feeling of your lips pressing light against his shoulder, barely there if he's honest, tips him over the edge. He tried so hard to hold back for you, but as with all things, you know best.

"It's... It's coming out..." He resigns, removing his hands to let you watch with him as a stream of piss is shot from his rock hard cock, yellow streaming from his tip as his length throbs, pulses under your watchful eye, as if begging for your utmost attention. Do you see what you do to me? Got me so excited, I— I couldn't help myself. Like a fucking dog, pissing all over himself because he got too excited by your meagre touch, by the way you watch him turn the tub a funny colour with only curiosity, allowing him to empty himself in the shared bath before nonchalantly returning your attention back to worshipping his body; hands reverting back to his head to finish the shampoo job he'd just interrupted to piss, and he can't stop the mewl that escapes him at the generous scratch your nails offer him.

"It's okay," You kiss his cheek, and he has to clench his fists a little harder to avoid touching himself in response. "Even that, too, is worthy of love, don't you think?"

"My, uh... The pee?" He gasps, relishing in the way you just instinctively know how to satisfy him, silent proof of your loyalty, that you were made for him— so perfect for him that you don't mind the fact that he's just pissed himself, even?

"Mhm. Promise." You continue cleaning him, the clatter of a cup filling with water before you pour it atop his head ringing in his ears, a stark reminder of his piss dripping from his fluttering eyelashes when you prompt him into turning around, his face all scrunched up in what he can only assume resembles pain from your doting smile.

"My turn." Is all you say before turning around too, edging backwards so that you're closer to him, and he intuitively grabs at the soap by your side.

Nothing, no one, could ever hope to make him feel as loved, accepted, and worshipped as you've made him feel tonight. Sitting in the bath together, a mix of fluids he can only hope include your own. He gets it's now.

You aren't trying to clean so much as you're trying to resemble his filth, right?

[mellowwillowy]

Yandere Reader × DOL

Warning: Extreme Content, unsafe sex, Crazy Reader

Bailey - Eden (M), Sydney, Ivory, Whitney, Kylar - Mason, Avery, Harper, Alex, Wren, Great Hawk, Black Wolf, Robin

Bailey's boobs! Eden's boobs! These 2 squeezeing your face! DIE! HAPPILY!1!1!

"What are you doing? I'll be charging you for this." Bailey spat as he watched you sucked his tits, hands groping it like a squishy. Eden on the other hand lets you use his tits as some sort of pillow. Ah... heaven... bless.

Sydney's anal bead, I'll squeeze it down your throat instead of using it as a rosary!

Sydney's hand gripped yours tightly as you used the anal bead inside their throat, fuck, they didn't expect this at all. Please, don't stop. Better yet, use your hand or your cock/strap-on on their throat now!

"Mwooh... mhoreeee....!"

Ivory's Necklace, right, fuck you wanna do if I swallow it whole?

"Get it out..." Ivory throatfucked you as their hands and tentacles choked you, "get it out right now, fuck, get it out!" Actually, you doubt they were throatfucking you to get this shit out. They were just trying fuck their cum out.

Walking Whitney

Whitney and a leash on your hand, no, not a leash to you but to them! Crawling the school hallway naked, how did it feel like to have the table turned now? Oh... look at how turned on they are, "fucking slut, you like people seeing your sex hmm??"

"Shut up..." they growled back but the trail of cum they left said otherwise ♡

Kylar and Mason the undies sniffer

Look at them. You understand if it's Kylar but Mason? Really? Sniffing your undies while you were swimming?

"K-Kylar did it! He did it first!"

"That still doesn't change the fact that you are a teacher. Oh, aren't you a perverted one? Just how down bad are you to the point you are caught sniffing with this," you pulled Kylar by his hoodie, "damn fucking loser who jerks off to my picture?"

"Uuu... you look so cute in that jacket so..."

Avery and alcohol

Fuck, you are sick of them raging at you every now and then. So? What to do? You eyed on the alcohols they got for the two of you and...

Crash

You hit their head with it. Just before they could say anything, you forced the alcohol down their throat, burning it. Just as you noticed they were wasted from the hit and burning sensation, you stripped them down and,

"I think you'll look great with your hole stuffed with this," you showed them a bottle of alcohol, "I don't give a shit about safe sex, feel free to have a check with Harper soon."

Doctor Harper...

Harper groaned as you plunged yet another syringe into their arm, the content? It's empty. Better be empty than fill it in with the drug they would use on you right?

"I bet it feels good, getting injected here and there right you fucker?"

Wren the smuggled

"Ehehe~ look at you~ so adorable in my bag, all tied up hm?"

The smuggler had been smuggled. Fuck, you were so going to enjoy fucking them while charging everyone fortune just to watch you fuck them dumb.

Milking Alex~!

Oh, the farm was growing. Look at it, the milk production got better in both quantity and quality! As expected of Alex! Now, it's time to milk Alex with your mouth and hand again!

Great Hawk the terrored

"Come on now, walking is better than flying right?" Great Hawk whimpered as you handed him his daily food. You caressed his bandaged wings that you broke with your own hands. "Good boy~ now eat, you'll need the energy to mate."

Black Wolf, awooooooo

Black Wolf did so as you fucked him dumb. What a pack leader he is, a great breedable alpha all along.

Robin, burn your fat down.

At this point, they were probably either traumatized or suffered from the masochist traits. Look, look at those marks ♡ how many times have you whipped the fuck out of them? It'll help burning down some of the fat they had.

[royalyan-main]

I want to eat F!kylar out while she's bent over the counter for everyone to see as I spread her thighs even further to bury my face into her dripping cunt. F!kylar who got so lost in the pleasure she doesn't even notice the people around us are recording her being eaten out in public with drool dripping down the side of her lips. She later cums with a mewl and gets rewarded with a kiss.

[eyesbehindus]

DoL: Kylar - Voyeurism

1025 words. Typical DoL warnings apply.

Kylar stared at the monitor, their eyes fixated on the gloom of their beloved’s room. She had been acting off all day, and so they had committed their time to making sure she was safe (something his parents weren’t particularly fond of, but still) and had followed her from dawn until dusk.

He had watched them pull their hood up, a face mask helping to conceal their identity as they weaved through the crowd. He followed as best he could, and just barely caught them slip into that new shop down on Elk street. It opened up recently, and he knew that they had helped (they were always so kind, even though those other bastards didn’t deserve it) but they had never seemed this nervous about entering it before. After a long few minutes they exited, bag in hand. That was all he needed to see – surely, his soulmate had gotten him a gift! And he knew he shouldn’t peek, but he just couldn’t help himself. He’d always been that way. (Though thinking about that made him think of Sydney, so he quickly cast those thoughts aside.)

After what felt like hours she finally walked into her room, bidding goodbye to that little fucking manwhore friend of theirs (Robin? Rachel? He doesn’t care to remember.) and he watched as they shut the door and rushed to their bed. They quickly dug through the bag and pulled out… a bottle. He recognised that bottle. It was same type he used to… practice with his doll. His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, and she reached back in to pull out a dildo. His hands clenched into fists as he watched, a burning jealousy coursing through him. The rational part of his brain told him that he was being ridiculous, that there was no reason to be jealous over a piece of plastic, but the other 99% of his brain screamed with an unmatched rage and envy that he should be there getting her off, that he should be the one to make them cum and that HE should be the one they remember as the first one to fill them. Not some filthy fucking piece of shit toy.

And yet, some part of him liked this.

After all, he was the one who’d get to see this before anyone else – no, the only one who’d ever get to see this. He wasn’t going to let anyone defile her with their eyes. And after all, they… might need the training, given his prodigious size. So he sat, and resolved to watch.

His hands trailed down as theirs did, unbuttoning his trousers and shimmying them down as she pressed her dildo against her entrance. They looked so unsure, and god, he wished he could be there to hold them as they coated it in lube and lined it up. His hands wrapped around his cock as she attempted to push it in, only for it to slide away. She huffed and pouted, one of her cutest traits if you asked him, and applied more lube – a far more generous amount this time – and pushed it in.

They sucked in a sharp breath, their free hand gripping their mattress tight as they adjusted to the sensation. Kylar grabbed some lube and readied himself, silently wishing he’d gotten his doll. He supposed he could get it now, but then he’d have to stop watching, and that just wasn’t happening. So instead he slowly stroked up and down his length as his love started to pump the toy into themselves. They couldn’t take much of it, but they were trying their best. Every now and then they’d glance at the door or their window, and their eyes would sweep across his camera; it was a challenge to hold back when that happened. He willed himself to last, not wanting to miss a second of this, and maintained an agonisingly slow pace as she gently fucked herself. Her eyes were screwed shut now, and she brought her other hand to her clit and started to massage it. A moan slipped past her lips, though she quickly bit her lip and stifled it.

He sped up, his stroking now reaching a decent pace as she did the same; she went faster, deeper, harder. Despite their best efforts, he could just about hear small gasps and moans permeate the silence. She was fast approaching her peak, said moans getting louder and her actions losing their rhythm somewhat – Kylar followed suit, starting to moan himself as pre-cum leaked from his tip and coated his shaft. With every moan she let out his dick throbbed, jumping in his grip slightly as he felt his own climax build up; and just as he reached a point where he couldn’t hold it any more, she screamed out suddenly and arched her back as her orgasm overtook her. He watched as her toes curled, as her face twisted in pleasure and her body shook while held her new toy deep inside her, and he let go.

He let out a pathetic, whimpering cry as his orgasm overloaded his senses, cum shooting out in thick ropes and landing on his desk and hoodie. His hands continued their ministrations, coaxing out every last drop he had before he fell limp in his chair, panting. He looked at the screen, seeing her in much the same state – she was splayed out on her bed, deep breaths helping to still her shaking body. Her eyes snapped open as someone hammered on her door, and she quickly covered herself. He barely made out the words, fatigue washing over him – whoever she was speaking to didn’t sound happy. Probably that caretaker.

After allowing himself a few more minutes of rest he forced himself up, cleaning up the mess he’d made and clicking out of the spy-cam (but not before saving the past half-hour as a video. He’d edit it down later.) Once all was said and done, he made his way to the bathroom and cleaned himself up before sitting back down and idly wondering how often she’ll do this.

He can’t wait for tomorrow.

[inkyquince]

Have those big ole thoughts about training Kylar properly. Maybe you don't wanna loose your virginity to him, or maybe you just enjoy preparing him properly for your first time together.

content warning. this was written for my VTM oc and realised that I can't just release that dumbass to the blog first, so instead it was changed to Kylar uwu. Kylar being nasty, frotting, sex toys, intercrural sex kinda, training mentions, lots of drooling and lube and fluids.

You didn't even mean to train him at first. It was all Kylar's fault. You two couldn't even kiss without his breath hitching and his cock hardening in his stained sweatpants. Jutting against you as his whined, hungrily mouthing at your bottom lip. Hell, you used to just let him hump himself to completion, but Kylar's eyes would prick with tears, both as how sore his cock would get but also being oh so close to you, your crotch being so warm against him beyond unbearable. Blow jobs were out too, since he had the same amount of self control as a glutton.

So, instead, one trip to Sirris' Sex Shop later, you have the solution to your problems. For him to cum and for you to train him before ever having to sleep with him.

Kylar likes to watch you prep the fleshlight. Parting the silicon to spit into the toy before pouring lube in, the clear liquid rising inside rapidly. Meanwhile, he watches, mouth agape just a bit. His cock juts against the fabric of his trousers, opaque liquid already seeping through the garment.

You kick off your trousers so they don't get stained and slip the toy between your thighs, tucked against your own crotch. Kylar used to whine at you to go without underwear when you two did this, but that discussion was long since dead now. Instead, he just tries to imagine it's all you, the tight, snug fit, the dripping mess over his dick. All. You.

He clambers on top of you, tugging his sweatpants down, tucking the band under his balls. His flushed dick stands to attention, dribbling just a bit as he nudges the head against the "lips" of the fleshlight. He's already sweating as he gazes at you, pupils blown wide, for your go ahead to sink into "your" hole. The little smile you give is more than enough and he gracelessly sinks down, lube pushing out as he pushes in, sticking to his thick pubic hair and balls.

Mouth agape, Kylar just gazes at you, dumb little expression as his cock throbbed uselessly inside the toy. God, he wants it to be you so badly. This is the least embarrassing way he's tried to simulate his cock in your warm hole. Tried the fuck a warmed up grapefruit once, before feeding it to you. Fucked a hole into his soap bar. Used to hump his pillow every night, ripped a shabby hole right into it. But somehow this was far more embarrassing. You, watching him, use a toy and obviously pretend its you, all the while you two are chest to chest, stomach to stomach, legs intertwined.

Kylar never had much composure to begin with, but any shreds of it are long gone by the first sloppy thrust. Drool gathering on his tongue, too entranced in the tight fit to even function properly, unable to swallow it down, so it just slips from his lips. The wet squelching of his cock bucking down into the toy, lube flowing out, was not helping, Kylar's lewd imagination kicking into overdrive. Reminds him of the hentai's he would put at full volume with his headphones, settle back and close his eyes and jerk his cock as he imagined you making those lewd noises, both your moans as well as your dripping hole taking his cock.

Yet the toy was just not enough. He came like a virgin whenever you used it on him, but his brain whispered that it would never be enough. Left every orgasm a bit less fulfilling each time. His cock ached as he continued to hump away, curling his body a bit to properly rut into it, almost like a clock wound too tight. His hot huffs of breath fanned over your face, sweat dripping down his face, into his hair and shining in the dim light.

"Please. Please, I want to... I wanna... Please?"

You just laughed softly and gently raised your thighs enough to mimic the feeling of the fleshlight fucking back into him. That was all he needed. Kylar whined and threw his head back, entire body jerking roughly as he came. Cum dribbled over the lips of the toy, seeping over the edges and staining your bare thighs, as well as his own.

Just babbles out his stream of consciousness, saying your hole is so good, that he loves you, that this was always meant to be, that he wants to fill you up up up until you are still dripping his cum days later.

You just stroke his head as he struggles to tug himself out of the toy, knowing that by the time you finally let him fuck you, he'll ruin you properly.

[whitneys-puppyslut]

desperate & obsessed (M!Kylar x M!Whitney part 1)

18+ / Minors DNI

How Kylar's obsession with Whitney would start Includes: sub!M!kylar who likes to be manhandled and degraded, dom!M!Whitney, no actual smut but we're getting there, stalker behavior, whitney is aggressive and a bit violent, gn!PC mentioned, bullying, kylar's weird-ass drawings

Does anyone else ship Kylar and Whitney? Maybe it's the fact that I project onto Kylar and am IN LOVE with Whitney (okay it definitely IS that) but I just feel like their dynamic could be so good. Imagine, if you will, a Kylar who never paid any mind to Whitney. He never really paid any mind to anybody, the loner that he is... and Whitney avoided the little gremlin that is Kylar like the plague. Kylar was on loser status like no one else, even being in the general vicinity of him would tarnish Whitney's reputation. It didn't matter if he was bullying him or not, that's - - - Status right there. So Whitney focused on bullying other people, like PC! And the day that Kylar sees Whitney slam PC up against the lockers and breathe hot against their ear... that's when the obsession began. Not with PC, but with Whitney. DAMN if Kylar didn't want to be manhandled like that...

From then on, Kylar would try a little harder every day to get Whitney's attention. It started out with innocent stuff, y'know like figuring out Whitney's entire schedule while in school... where he hung out before school or at lunch, when he was alone versus with groups, what classes he did seldom attend and when... typical stalker Kylar stuff. Easy for him, really. But stalking him wasn't enough apparently, because either Whitney was stupid, or he was purposefully ignoring the pair of eyes boring into the back of his head that he felt most of each school day.

So, Kylar began to rip out pages from his sketchbook and leave them at Whitney's locker, his desk in math class, in his... bag? Whitney does not leave his bag unattended, so how that happened, he had no idea. And those sketchbook pages, obviously, where drawings of Whitney. Innocent, at first. Then a little provocative. Then it became drawings of Whitney and Kylar together, depicting all the nasty things Kylar wanted the bully to do to him–

Eventually, Whitney had had enough. He knew that uneasy feeling was from the freak being around the corner, he knew the face in those drawings (if it wasn't obvious by the "Kylar <3" signature on each piece), and he knew that if he didn't act now, his reputation would be RUINED.

So naturally, he had to give the freak what he wanted.

And he winced when, as he slammed Kylar against the wall just as he did to PC, the little rat fucking moaned.

"I know what you're fucking doing, freak."

Kylar whimpered, the fear going up his spine and the arousal he felt in his groin was everything he had been hoping for, he just prayed that Whitney would do this all the time, manhandle him, choke him, fuck him, breed him, make him his–

Whitney yanked the smaller boy up by the his collar and snarled, inches away from his face,

"I'm not. Fucking. Interested."

Kylar didn't hear any of that, instead hyper-focused on the fact that their lips were so close... he could just..!!

So he did, he leaned in and gave Whitney a peck on the lips, who promptly threw him to the ground.

Kylar's body collided with the hard flooring. He ignored the searing pain in his back, instead sitting up and looking at Whitney with that stupid, obsessed smile.

Whitney looked the freak in the eyes for the first time... uh, ever.

He had never realized how strikingly, enchantingly green they were.

And honestly, if Kylar just washed his hair once in a while, he might not look that bad... after all, Whitney could tell even under that baggy hoodie, that he had cute, small, frame of a body...

...

He probably had an even cuter dick–

NO! BAD WHITNEY!

"Don't get in my way again," he spat out. He walked away.

But he felt those green eyes in the back of his skull as he did so.

What he didn't see, was his wide, unhinged grin.

[fungus-no69]

hope lovecraft is rolling in his grave as I write this. I hope more people write about eldritch horrors being gay and shit. lovecraftian gay sex… (i do not write smut)

Context: it is a beautiful day in rapechestershire and you are a horrible monstrosity

Content: Body horror I guess, reader is a little petty (deserved), dol typical bullying, brief and non graphic gore in Kylar’s, mentioned animal death in Remy’s (you are Eating The Cows), some spoilers for Ivory Wraith’s lore

Remembering to oxidise your body is a burden, making your heart beat is a chore, remembering to move the rest of your vessel with your expressions is tiring. What do animals even need these rigid pieces of flesh for?

…though you quickly realised the value of muscles when your meat began to droop around your faux bones which is something you’re fairly certain does not happen to mortals.

Of course, you can’t maintain a full rest while above water in this fashion. You’ve come to learn that humans do not particularly enjoy a mass of greasy limbs, mottled flesh and gunky mucus spread on the floor. 'Sleeping' is nice though, as limited as your opportunities are. Humans are fickle creatures and that also applies to their sleeping habits.

Nonetheless. You need to practise your human-form-making skills. And what better way to learn about appearing more human than to attend the industry of learning itself?

Whitney:

Why this blonde mortal took an interest in you? You're not sure.

One day they were there and they never left

They’re always poking at your vessel. Rude…

Thanks to them and their lackeys you had to learn how to fake falling over when punched because apparently it’s strange to just stand there and take a hit without flinching.

They know somethings wrong with you but they can’t put their finger on it, this leads to even more bullying

Most of their harassment is about how you look and act apart from the straight up sexual assault.

They once saw you slip up on your transformation because it was a particularly irritating day and you briefly reintroduced your habit of scaring off others by posturing.

Not your finest moment, I say. They passed out because your mutilated structure was too much for their poor human mind to handle.

Thankfully you can help them forget the incident or write it off as some weird drug induced hallucination. (by distracting them with something inconvenient when they wake up. Like an ice cube in their mouth. Or a cut to their gums.)

You can’t let something like that happen again

Sydney:

You don't know why they're looking at you weirdly. You have the correct amount of teeth this time. You checked.

They help you out when people ask you stupid questions like 'are you a ventriloquist?' 'how can you bend that far?' and 'hey where'd your elbows go?'

It’s always awkward to dismiss yourself during those encounters, considering your ‘schoolmates’ don’t tend to let things go and are rather fixated on following their more malicious instincts towards you than letting you leave. So Sydney’s help is appreciated.

You leave little gifts for them in the library. A book you found in the lake and dried, the foot of a rabbit (humans find that lucky right?), little shiny objects you discover while walking around.

You’re far from weak or incapable but Sydney’s interventions make keeping up the act more bearable.

Over time they find that they become enamoured with you and that’s terrifying to them. One, because they’ve never felt like this before and two, Jordan seems to disapprove of you in some way? They don’t explain why but they warn Sydney about you. Which raises some issues which you don't completely understand for all of your infinite (old) wisdom.

As they become more corrupted, they get a bit more pushy with their ‘subtle’ questions about you- thankfully they never nag for too long.

You fear that Sydney, loyal and kind Sydney, will leave you when they find your true nature. That they will find you repulsive like many before them.

Thus, you will hide your true nature from them. No matter how often they ask or the fact that they know something is off- you can never let them confirm those suspicions.

Kylar:

You see the way the shadows loom over this mortal- they are more connected to the other worlds than they realise.

This draws you to them in a way, having someone who is more connected to your home than everyone around you. And them to you, though you suspect this may have happened regardless of your identity.

Kylar is another anomaly in a sea of others who look different but are fundamentally indiscernible. If you were to cut open a human and pry open their ribcage, you would find the same thing in each one. But not yours. And perhaps not Kylar’s.

They seem to feel a strange compulsion to protect you. You’ve seen this type of behaviour with Sydney and maybe Whitney to an extent, but never to the intensity that a knife was procured.

You understand that the utensil is sharp but you're a little bit confused to why the students run away when they see it? Stabbing someone requires strength and you're fairly certain Kylar is not very strong.

Surprisingly, they were the first one to ask about why you speak the way you do. When asked what they meant they told you that you speak in a very formal manner. Your expression must have made a change in some way because they quickly apologise profusely for offending you. It doesn't.

If you sulk about it a little then that's nobody's business other than your own.

Harper:

You get sent to the asylum for your silly behaviour (crimes and general strangeness that does not pass for mentally healthy) and Harper tries to gaslight you "there are no tentacles they aren't real" explain this.

You don’t have a firm grasp on human behaviour yet, especially when it comes to being polite but c'mon. Even you know this guy is a weirdo.

They will inevitably learn about your true nature regardless of how hard you conceal it.

Hypnotism doesn’t work on you, your blood is too dark and thin to resemble a human’s, sometimes you forget to make your heart beat etc.

They’re not as freaked out as you thought they’d be but they do want to run some tests on you

You say no thank you because even if it’s just for ‘personal research’ you don’t want your inhumanity on record (and Harper’s a creep)

They attempt to blackmail you in a sense but you stand strong on your opinion. Who would they tell and even then, who would believe them? And then there’s the fact that there is no human nor invention that can contain or incapacitate you.

You may meet them on your vacation to Remy’s farm, they’re initially confused to see you there but just as easily accept it. As much as they want to understand you- you’re not exactly human, so they don’t expect you to act by the rules of humans.

It would almost be nice if they didn’t finish their little spiel by dragging you to a stage. Stares make your epidermis feel like there’s little bugs underneath it and you feel the urge to peel it off to escape the unpleasant sensation. You don’t, because that would reveal you.

You end your holiday by trashing their office.

Remy:

You originally came across their farm because you were hungry. Remy, of course, noticed the dwindling population of their cows and went to investigate. Lo and behold- they found you.

They don’t know for sure if you’re involved in the missing cows but they suspect you’ve stolen them or something. Not that you ate them.

You allow yourself to be captured, you could annihilate these puny humans if you wanted to but something tells you this place will grant you rest and food.

The fact they stole your clothes was mildly irritating but you can easily get some when you return 'home'. What do humans call it? The five finger discount? You're not sure what having five fingers has to do with saving currency but you appreciate it regardless.

You don’t develop transformations. You lack the biology to do so, but seeing other cattle develop their features tips you off to the fact you’re supposed to be gaining ears and such so you try to replicate them…

The farmhand who opens your stable in the morning almost shits their pants

You don’t try again after that.

Remy is wondering why their cattle are STILL disappearing.

Ivory Wraith:

They are much similar to yourself, tethered to this mortal realm through an object. Though their emotions are a bit more… uncontrollable than yours.

But perhaps that came with being human. Formerly, you suppose. Not that you would know what it’s like to be human.

They know your existence is eternal, will last for much longer than their own given their own circumstances.

Inevitably, they belong to this world and you do not.

Nonetheless you understand each other to a point, with both of you being non human and somewhat incorporeal.

They vaguely recognise you from long ago, a painting or two within the temple depicting a monster. They had never really examined it, being too unsettled to do so.

They also remember that during the schism, they felt the presence of something much larger than themself. They suspect it may be you, though they’re not certain.

No matter, you're here now.

…

It is the first time you have felt desire for something other than rest in centuries.

You have never been one to want. You do not experience emotion as deeply as mortals (or former mortals) do, somehow simultaneously deeper but so shallowly. You do not feel affection, and even if you have, it has surely been so long since then that you have forgotten. And yet…

You think this strange feeling in your fleshy midsection is the closest to love you can get.

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Ghost Kylar

— ✧ pairing: M!Kylar / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,988 — ✧ warnings: ghost, ghost sex, yandere, brief depiction of self harm, major character death (duh, he’s a ghost), masochism, blood, dub con, kylar is cringe as fuck, public sex, biting, creampie, knifeplay — ✧ synopsis: it's ironic, isn't it? how the one thing he wants most in this world is the one thing he can't have... his existence does have its advantages though, some that you'll experience intimately!

— ✧ A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! thank you for your patience. enjoy some kylar fun :D...

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

You’d think that dying and being turned into an ignored ghost would be an absolute hindrance, right? The whole… being incorporeal ordeal might present some issues sometimes, for some people, he imagines. Unable to fulfil that terrible itch to touch, to be touched, floating in a relative void of nothingness for all eternity just because of one stupid, rash decision. It’d be a pain for sure, he thinks, if he was completely disallowed to touch at all. But perhaps his excessive yearning for you is like magic, in the sense of being strong enough to bend the rules of existence itself to allow him a little, just enough feeling for him to be satisfied.

For now, at least.

And isn’t that proof enough of his love for you? That he was made to be with you, just as you were for him? Surely, given that every other ghost he’s met thus far has complained about the lack of literally anything, and how he must be so lucky to be allowed the privileged of reaching out to you on any God given occasion, that is proof. It’s certainly not luck that had him end up here, is it? No, it could never be…

Instead, he puts it down to love, plain and simple.

Though he did very little of loving you in his life prior, publicly regarding. Far too afraid of approaching you in fear of scaring you away with his… well, people call him weird for a reason, right? Now at least, he figures it might a good time to catch up on all those missed opportunities he was silly not to take before. It’s what he’s due for his patience, right? For committing the ultimate proclamation of love, undying in his quest to make you his.

He hadn’t intended on dying, to be honest with you. Carving your name into his arm one lonely night to comfort himself— he was just too sloppy with it. But what else could you ever hope to expect from a man who was rock hard at the mere thought of having you brand him forever, self inflicted or not. All the blood rushing to his cock before even grabbing the knife; it’s a wonder he even managed to pass from blood loss due to how hard his cock throbbed for you, blade in his shaky hand and oh so sharp. Sharpened just for this occasion, y’know? Especially for you, nothing but the best would ever do for his girl! And oh, how the slow drag of the pointed tip across his goose-bumped skin felt so good, had his cock all leaky and trembling in excitement just hovering the point above his arm. He hadn’t had much luck catching your attention thus far, regrettably sticking to the shadows in the meantime while you flirt and skirt around the whole school. But surely, with his new permanent tattoo, he’d be able to catch your eye—and hopefully a little more, yeah?

Trouble is, he’s a filthy masochist. A downright depraved mess of a man, erection upright and throbbing in anticipation as he cautiously tilts the tip of the knife against his soft skin. The expectation of it all, giddy with hope that this will once and for all secure his rightful place by your side, proving how only he can be your one and only true love, causes him to miscalculate just how deep he needs to carve his love for you. The strong bite of the knife, hot against his searing flesh, feels so fucking good— enough to have his hips jutting forward in an attempt to fuck the air as well as he’d like to fuck into your pretty princess pussy. It’s immediately dizzying, a horrible misuse of his love for you, but nonetheless a declaration that gets him off like nothing before. Instantly addicting in just how much it hurts, a choked hiss escaping his pouty lips as he digs in, digging as deep as he can with the knife to showcase just how far he’s willing to go for you, even if you aren’t actually present.

And the blood that drips from the first letter of your name should have been the first worrying sign, he knows. But isn’t that what made it all the more exciting in the end? The lack of thought, impulsively seeking more of that red hot high. Gushing from his open wound in waves, turning his arm a sticky red as a permanent stain of just how much he adores you. It’s sickening, really, how the black spots in his vision and the fluttering lashes only coaxed him into continuing, messily dragging the knife across his arm to start the next letter of your name— but alas. He’s always been weaker and smaller than most, and there’s only so much blood one man can lose before death comes for him. It’s not that he was surprised about the outcome given the circumstances, honestly! It’s just… Different. Yeah. Not as bad as the other ghosts he’s came across have claimed— but then again, none can match just how much love he holds for you, he’s certain.

Loves you enough to pester you any and every chance he gets, the one living soul he’s still yet tethered too. He imagines it’s got something to do with the fact that you aren’t fully his yet, and when you are and he inevitably has to leave, he’ll be waiting patiently for your arrival on the other side. But for now, it’s fun to simply exist by your side, to have you be the only one left to notice him; as he’s always ever wanted, really. And, to run his ghostly fingertips up and down your exposed arms, tickling you for attention while you enter the classroom is pleasure enough.

“Kylar—” you whisper shout at him in return, intending to scold, no doubt. But all it does is excited him some more, like the fucking ghoul he truly is, and always has been. A wretched excuse of a man, little fucking pervert, only you get to see his true side now. “Not. Here.”

Though he loathes to be back in this prison, he’s aware that you’ve got grades to keep up on where he doesn’t. And if he’s honest, it’s not so bad being back only because now he can sit besides you every class, every day. Back when he was alive, this was one of his ultimate dreams. And if all it takes is to pass away and to float by your side for eternity to do just that, then he thinks he’d kill himself a million times over just to prolong this dream. Standing by your side through it all, even if all merely consists of keeping you company through your morning math class like the dutiful boyfriend he is.

He always wondered how you did in maths. The school schedule disallowed him from visiting you during such early morning hours, and he always hated sitting anxiously in his own class all alone, eager to get out of it as soon as possible . Not solely because he was regularly bullied in class by his peers, ridiculed to no end for his antsy attitude and twiddling thumbs— stupid, the lot of them. His one regret is not having the time to get back at them some way, somehow. But he was also eager to leave class because that meant he was one step closer to you. Always you, thinking, watching, dreaming, you, you, you. He’d endure the torment of fellow students so long as he survived long enough to simply sit beside you for that one hour during English class together. That, truly, was the highlight of his day. Every fucking day. So much so that he found himself missing the bullying and the shoving and the name calling at the weekends only because he wasn’t in school to see you.

There was always solace in your scent, safety in your stares.

It didn’t so much matter to him that you never really paid him the time of day, always avoiding his wistful looks and deflecting his trembling touch. It didn’t bother him that you’d sneer down at him, spitting those same hurtful words that his bullies so often did, too. It’s okay, he gets it. You were just trying to survive, right? He’d never fault or blame you for that, not when he does the exact same thing. But deep down, you like him, don’t you? You just had to protect yourself, make sure that you didn’t also become a lonely little target like him.

He’d have killed them for you if you asked though, y’know?

Lest his blade get dirtied though, he’s glad that you never. Only so that he could kill himself in such a pure way, untainted by others gross stink and sweat upon his blade. Now, as he watches you sit in math class with hawk eyes, one hand precariously placed upon your shoulder to remind you of his presence, you can rest assured that he’s doing so only with the best, most clean intentions. His tummy filling with butterflies at the way you shiver under his touch, the pencil in your hand wobbling in your unsure grip as his cold courses through your system.

“Sorry,” he whispers to you, though there’s really no need to. Nobody else can see him, he’s almost certain… at least no one else seems to react to him. But old habits die hard or something, and he doesn’t want to get you in trouble for chatting to him during class. “Am I still too cold? I don’t mean to be, I don’t think I can help it, I--”

A shoulder shrug has his hand falling from your body, and he can’t help but to smile wide at the way you continue trying to communicate with him in spite of the orders by River to stay quiet. You’re trying for him, that’s all that matters to his unbeating heart.

“Got it. Too cold, sorry.” He quips, making sure to keep his voice low enough so as to not annoy you, but also so that he has a better chance of hearing your bored little sighs. The huffs of concentration as you do your best to work through the questions presented before you. He always did admire your work ethic, and it’s a genuine joy to be offered the privilege of watching you hard at work this morning. The little tips and taps of your pencil against the old wooden desk, scribbles on your work book, even the slight creaks and squeaks of your school chair from under your bored wiggles. More than anything, he simply adores just watching you. From every angle, behind any shadow. You’re just so perfect to him, even when you ignore his circling attempts, stalking around you like some sort of overbearing teacher— or shark.

He doesn’t mean to be weird, it’s just… Despite not being with you for very long in his more ghostly appearance, he can’t stop wanting to watch you. Creeping around you at every opportunity— you were the first person he thought to haunt when he realised his predicament fully. And now, knowing that not only is his temptation going unnoticed by those around him, but that you specifically are allowed to bear witness to his wanting, is everything he could have ever asked for and more.

Well, besides asking for his touch to return to its normal heated self, for your benefit solely. But coldness has its play reasons too, right? And he’s so sure you’d get used to it eventually, and he doesn’t mind waiting for as long as you take. Because he loves you. And because he doesn’t have anything else worth doing with his boring existence now, too.

Besides continuing to dote upon you.

Which is what he plans on doing, leaning closer in from behind you, intending on playfully distracting you from your work with a quick peck on your cheek; if not for the fact that something, or someone else, steals your attention away from him before his rightful opportunity.

Lamentably, he turns his head with your own snap turn, a scowl present on his face before he even considers the possibility of who might have called your attention before him. Instead, he’s upset merely that he doesn’t get to see your reaction. Surely it’s one of annoyance that you wear, right? How dare you interrupt my studies, leave me and my ghostly boyfriend alone before I report you!

In an ideal world, that’s how he’d like you to react. And, perhaps a little selfishly, that’s how he expects you to react. A quick dismissal, a rude awakening to whatever sap decides to distract you from your hard work, studying so prettily for him...

But he’s dead. And that certainly isn’t ideal, so he doesn’t fully expect your reaction to be perfect either. It’s okay, there’s time to work on it… in this life and in your own after life. But alas, the rude awakening that greets him upon coming face to face with Whitney’s horrible leer rocks him to his core. His fists automatically balling up at his sides in an attempt to protect himself from one of his biggest bullies, ready to fight back if need be— he’s already went ahead and killed himself anyway. But of all people, it just had to be his arch nemesis that threatens to dirty you with that eye fucking, huh? Fucking typical, though he obviously could tell that Whitney sat behind you in math class— not in the least because you’ve complained time and time again about just how much that man bothers you, he had been silently hoping, fucking wishing to be left alone with you. Just this once. Is that too much to ask?

Hasn’t his death been payment enough?

Or better yet, his genuine lifetime of pain and suffering, standing between you and the bullies as much and as often as he could, should be worth at least a look in his direction, right? Not that he’s mad at you, God, never… rather, he’s angered by Whitney’s continued dislike of him, going so far as to bully him in death, too. How Whitney is so wanting, always, of what does not belong to him. The sultry “Got the answers, slut?” That falls from his lips is disgusting, an immediate wave of nausea crawling up Kylar’s throat in response; if only his voice could be heard. Whitney never fails to irk him, and it saddens him to learn that there’s very little escape even after his passing.

Thankfully, though, you tell him to piss off.

“Atta girl!” Kylar commends you, beaming down at you from behind as the words he’s always wanted to say roll off his tongue so easily, now that he’s in constant privacy with just you. And, dare he admit, your refusal to submit to the bully has his cock twitching in his pants. Just a little, like a small warning. It’s hot seeing you fight back, even more so when he’s convinced that you’re doing it in an attempt to be left alone with him some more.

But still, no reaction from you upon his praise. And still, Whitney tries to steal your attention off of his kind words, a sulking huff escaping him at the way you instantly allow the bully the privileged of looking at you, let alone talking to you.

Despair grips his dead heart, dead to all but you, phantom pangs of pain begging to console you when Whitney tugs on your hair so unfairly—he’d never do the same to you, y’know? He’d brush it if you’d let him, wash and dry it all for you in a heartbeat. He’d look after you so well, if only you’d look at him and not—

“What was that, slut?” Whitney glares at you in the same way Kylar has been unfortunate enough to stare back at the barrel of a gun, too. And it upsets him, terribly so. So much so that he finds himself standing between you and Whitney on instinct; though this is immediately ineffective given how translucent and invisible he is to all but you. Quick, he thinks to himself. Something else, something that’ll immediately have you exiting the unfair situation…

He doesn't have much time to think, so he hopes you’ll forgive him for his rash actions of spinning around and pecking your cheek just like he’d originally wanted to do all along… but you should forgive him, because you’re his, after all. And he’s only trying to help you at the end of the day.

“The fuck are you blushing for, freak?” Whitney’s voice continues to ring in his ears, and he can’t stop the creepy smile from tugging on his lips when witnessing the pretty pink that dusts your cheeks in response to his help. See, he knew you’d appreciate it!

“I can, um… Kiss you some more, if you’d like?” Kylar fights for your attention, though meek as he might be. He knows what’s best for you, obviously, but it’s easier for everyone involved if he makes you feel like it’s your decision, right? That’s what he read online, anyway, when researching about how to find a girlfriend…

But perhaps the double attention is a little too much for you to handle, the frown you wear in response is surely distaste borne out of Whitney’s incessant yapping, right?

It couldn’t be anything else. Certainly not because of him, he’s sure. Because he’s helping, isn’t he?

Seconds feel like minutes as you stare at—or is it through?—him. But before he has a chance to double check with you that he made the right decision—which he did, but sometimes you need a little reminding, of course—you steal the opportunity of speech away from him. A quick nod in his general direction, he can’t tell if it’s aimed more at him or Whitney, but what matters is that the glare that soon follows cannot be mistaken for anyone other than him.

So hot… has him tensing up in excitement.

“Excuse me.” You say, voice tense as your lips press into a thin line. “Sir,” You promptly raise your hand, and Kylar is so pleased that you’re standing up for yourself that he claps for you, cringe as it may be. Theres no one but you to witness it anyway. “Can I use the restroom?”

Oh, “Good idea,” Kylar commends you, racing around to the front of your desk in a genuine effort to help you pack up your things, forgetting that he’s a fucking ghost. It’s the one negative that he’s came to experience with his new existence— he wishes he could physically help you out some more. “Escape into the bathroom, a classic—”

River cuts him off with an exhausted: “If you must.” but Kylar can hardly complain. The sight of you collecting your items pairs nicely with the scoff Whitney lets out following your dismissal, and like the lost little puppy he is, Kylar eagerly follows you out of the classroom and into the school hallways with his metaphorical tail wagging happily behind him. Not a single fucking a care in the world, which makes a change in such a setting.

Because he helped. Because that’s the only thing he ever wants to do for the rest of his afterlife; help you. Be with you, be around you, slipping around hallway corners and into the girls bathroom with you— which he’s been inside of on occasions, in particular when stalking you during lunch break. He wonders if you ever noticed? Still, you enter into the same cubicle you always do— second from the left, closest to the wall. And he figures the fact that you slam the door on his face isn’t because you want him to leave you alone, but out of sheer frustration over the situation, over Whitney and his bullying tendencies. He forgives you for the rude action anyway, so it doesn’t really matter the reasons why.

He’s a ghost.

And he’s not so sure why you adopt such a look of surprise upon his passing through the door to be beside you, offering you a lovesick little grin in response.

“What are you— why did you follow me, Kylar?”

The amount of pain in your voice aches him, has him reaching out to tenderly stroke your cheek with a soft coo falling from his pouty lips.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay, mostly…” which is the Gods honest truth! More than anything, he wanted to check that you were doing okay in private, where he could look upon you with stars in his eyes and dote on you to his hearts content. Congratulations resting at the tip of his tongue over just how well you handled that situation, and reassurances caught in his throat over the fact that he’s always more than willing to help you in any situation, utilising his ghostly energy solely in an effort to make your life all the more comfortable. But your scathing tone is quicker than his love, and instead of all those well intentioned thoughts spilling from his anxiously bitten lips, a tut now resides behind his teeth.

You avoid his gaze with another reprimand. “Okay?” is all you initially say, and he wants so badly to beg at your feet, yes, yes, I helped, didn’t I? Didn’t I do so good? But you once again cut him off before he even has a chance of pleading his case. “I was doing fine until, until you—”

Ah. He understands better now, he thinks. It’s true, you were handling yourself so well, better than he ever did when face to face with some scumbag like Whitney. He had to commend you there! But, with his helpful kiss, you had enjoyed it so much so that it ended up distracting you into a flustered state, right? Poor baby… you just need taken care of, right? He can understand why that’d be frustrating, having to escape the classroom and into the bathroom to try and deal with all of those assumed butterflies in your tummy— one cannot easily explain the intricacies of harbouring a ghost boyfriend, right? You— you must have wanted to get him alone in private to playfully scold him or something, a knowing giggle crawling up his throat at how red and cute your little cheeks are when staring back at him.

This is the perfect place to reward you, no doubt. Somewhere hidden, though still in public. He’d have liked to have played with you in proper public, watch you struggle to contain your enjoyment in front of so many others— because what would you even say to them? Oh, don’t worry, my ghost boyfriend is just balls deep in me right now, that’s why I’m moaning so loudly! No, of course not! It’s something to work up to, he concedes to himself. And for now, he doesn’t mind playing with you in secret public… since it’s what you're obviously wanting, after all.

It’s his turn to interrupt you for once, though it pains him to even think about being so rude to you, he thinks you might appreciate his efforts in the end. So long as he’s reading your signals right; there’s no way that he isn’t, his death and subsequent haunting of you has already proven just how strong his connection to you is… he could never be wrong when it comes to you.

“It’s okay, look,” he grabs your attention, one cold hand atop your head to gently push your vision down, until your eyes are in line with his crotch. He wants to show you just how much he appreciates you, how much he loves you and adores when you fight back, standing up for yourself is so attractive to him. And, more selfishly, “Look at what you do to me—” he huffs, wanting to help you understand exactly what your actions have stirred up within him today, so early on, too. You’re just so perfect, such a pretty girl to haunt, he can’t help but to want to express his feelings for you in the most plain way possible, y’know?

Front and centre, under your watchful eye, his cock throbs for you. Hard and heavy even if a little translucent; it still yet pulses with life, hidden under the loose pants he managed to die in. Not his first choice of clothing to be stuck in for eternity, but it gets the job done he supposes. And by that, he means that you can clearly see how it tents in your direction, dribbling precum all over himself simply from looking at that pretty expression you now wear. Brows furrowed and mouth agape, a gasp tumbling from your pretty pouty lips no doubt from his appreciation of you.

In awe, aren’t you? Of his utter dedication, how loyal he is to you, much like a dog. Tugging his bottoms off to wag his cock at you like a treat— “Got me all riled up.” he smiles genuinely, a soft sigh escaping him at the way you run your fingers through your hair, bashfully avoiding the rock hard cock right in front of you. He oh so loves how cute you are when you get all shy, light loving laughter spilling from his lips as he places a cool hand on your shoulder.

“There isn’t much room in here…” he thinks out loud, humming in faux thought for just a moment before surprise swivelling you around so that your back is now facing him. And the elbow you send into his side only turns him on some more, silly. He enjoys it when you fight back, because every punch and kick from you feels so much like a kiss, a reminder of the life he once had as pain courses through him and pools in his cock. “But there’s enough, I think.”

And if there isn’t, well… Perks of having a ghost for a boyfriend— he can just phase through the stall and still fuck into you. Half in and out, it doesn’t matter. You’re the only person, and thing in general, that he can meaningfully interact with.

His cock automatically taps against your ass when you teasingly squirm around with want, hypnotising him with your movements from side to side. Like you’re encouraging him, right? The way your knees buckle from under you as he towers behind you is so cute too, coaxing some more pre to leak from his tip just for him to smear it against your school skirt, a soft cooing tut escaping him as he tugs on the end of it, your panties soon following, and letting them drop just enough to have his cock pressing against your bare ass cheeks. And oh, how warm you are against his cold tip, prompting him to shiver against you when you refuse to let up tempting him with those pretty wiggles.

It only turns him on more seeing how excited you are for him to show his appreciation, those cute little muffles and whimpers you sound as he angles his hips down so that his spectral cock can rub between your soft and squishy thighs is soooo nice, something worth dying for, he thinks to himself.

And there’s so much satisfaction to be had in grabbing your wrists before you know what’s happening to you, pinning them above your head as you’re forced to submit over the toilet below you. There’s nowhere for you to run, nowhere that you can hide from him now that he’s dead— and isn’t that just so fucking exciting? So hot to him, his cock twitching incessantly against your flushed skin with a sweet sigh escaping him. You always have him feeling like a dirty little virgin again every time he dotes on you like this, his hips stuttering against you on instinct; it’s fucking silly how you have him feeling so good from relatively very little already.

Which just proves to him further that not only do you belong to him, but that you want this sort of treatment too. You could never convince him otherwise.

And how could you not want him anyway? With the way your body tenses up for his enjoyment, hands balled into tiny little fists for stability against the wall while he pins you in place. Your pretty pussy—God he’s so in love with her, wants to eat her out forever and ever, mark her all up with his seed, worship and lick and fuck her always, you’ve got no fucking idea the things he’d do for just a smidge of your cunt—leaking all over him, drooling slick up and down his cock for him to gag at; he’d die over and over again for this cunt.

He’s only so riled up because he witnessed your bravery too, but honestly, just being near you is enough to set him off. His grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand passes through the stall wall; sometimes he forgets that he can’t lean on anything but you for support. Which you happily accept, right? His free hand coming down to lock onto your waist, grabbing and pinching as a means to stay somewhat present in the moment, but he always inevitably loses his mind a little when it comes to you. Squeezing at your side from the delight of physical touch, finally. Balls just aching and heavy with seed for you as he rubs one out between your thighs idly, lazy with his strokes in the hopes of warming you up to how cold his spectral body is.

The things he wants to do to you. The things he will do to you.

“Wanna keep you like this forever—” he huffs, wondering if the breath that fans across the back of your neck is hot or cold, though it doesn’t truly matter. You shiver into it regardless, in turn choking his cock a little tighter against the fat of your thighs to have him choking on thin air above you. “So pretty, so proud of you today, God… Wanna praise you forever ‘n ever ‘n—”

He cuts himself off with a moan, his cock tip severely sensitive due to being unable to so much as rut against anything other than you. It’s only natural that he then relies on you a little more, right? He doesn’t mean to, but he simply has to; lest go goes insane and dead. But he hopes that in return for relying on you more than he should, he can make it up to you with how his cock slips and slides between your folds, rock hard and pulsing pleasantly with each knock against your clit. All sloppy with your slick— because duh, you want this reward, right?

Evident from how pitchy and strained your voice is when you regard him with: “Kylar, will you— quit it—!”

A sly smirk tugs on his lips in response. Sneaky and mean, a low sigh crawling up his throat before he gives you exactly what you want. Impatient little girl, it’s like you know that he’d do literally anything for you, whenever for you. Whatever princess wants, princess gets…

Which is exactly why he stops humping, as per your request. Drawing his hips back so that his tip catches perfectly on your cute little hole, the hand on your waist dipping a little further down to spread your ass cheek to the side for his viewing pleasure, before he rather unfairly thrusts his hips forward in one fell swoop and fucks you so full of his ghost cock that you’re left gasping for air. Nice and cooling, right? Especially against such soft and warm squishy insides— yin and yang. You expertly match him, his better half.

All wind is knocked out of him upon entering your sweet heat too, don’t worry. You’re not the only one struggling to take the stretch, carving his size out of your hole as a means of ownership. As if to say: this is my cunt. And he wont lie, part of why he immediately settles into a quick pace of in and out is to prove as much to you too. To prove to Whitney, look, see how much she’s gasping for me? How she tightens up with every pass of his throbbing cock in and out, only pulsing for you, because of you. Nothing else quite literally does it for him, his head thrown back in immediate sheer bliss, his own little personal heaven bent over before him in such a dirty cramped little space…

You deserve better, absolutely. And he’d love to give you just that later tonight when he follows you home, too. But a good boyfriend listens to his girlfriend, even if she doesn’t speak. You may not have voiced your want for him to fuck you raw in the school bathroom today, but he knew. Could pick up on all your little tells and non verbal communication so easily— and he’s pleased to know that he listened well given how your tight cunt just leaks over him. A loud slap surely to be heard from his fucks in and out— if he wasn’t a ghost, that is.

Another point as to why he must be fated to be with you, right? His groans and moans, the way his heavy with seed balls slap against your puffy little slit as you whine and wriggle all pretty for him; it’s all only for you. The sole listener, the only one able to hear and see him. In return, he muses to himself that if anyone were to walk in on this scene, him balls deep in your pretty pussy, hunched over you like a fucking dog in heat… they’d see nothing but your gaping hole struggling to take him. And isn’t that just so fucking hot? How you must stay quiet, lest anyone sees you in such a compromising situation? Nobody would fucking believe you, and he can feel the power he holds over you course through him with every greedy hump forward, and every quick draw back. Slamming his cock into you, fucking the breath right out of you with the weight he throws behind his possessive thrusts.

“Perfect—” spills from his smiling lips, tugged into a cheek aching grin the moment you begged him for more, like a good girl. “You’re so, so perfect, ah—“ his voice is high pitched, cunt rendering him useless, just a moaning mess of a dead man as he loses himself inside of you. Eyes rolled back and jaw slack with open mouthed sighs— he even drools on you. Just a little, in sheer pleasure. All he wants is to make you feel good, praise dripping from the end of his cock to leave your insides all sticky and goopy with precum, but you make it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand when you’re breathing so heavily like that, and tensing up to make it easier for him to thrust into you.

“Never gonna leave you.”

And he’s so happy to hear your muffled whimpers in response to his reassurances, coaxing him into stuttering his hips into you, unable to keep up with the amount of love and devotion pouring from his every greedy grab of your heated skin and wet smack of his cock into your gushing cunt. Like she can tell just how serious he is, loyal to you in life and in death, refusing to let up on showing you his affection with fast enough fucks to have him on his tippy toes for you. It’s silly, how he’s just so easy for you. A simp through and through, strengthening the grip he has on your wrists only to pin them behind your back, using your own body against you as leverage to better fuck into you. And he doesn’t hear you complaining— quite the contrary, actually.

Gently, he hushes you. A soft sound pressed right against the shell of your ear, followed by a greedy groan of his own at the deeper angle he now fucks you in. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, right?” his whispers against your soft skin, humming in faux thought over the imagined scene of you getting caught. It’s hot, of course, imagining the shocked look on your face upon the stall door swinging opening, his cock throbbing harder when he thinks about how he wouldn’t stop, not even for a single fucking second in the hopes of publicly claiming you as his own. God— he’s so close just from thinking about it.

It’d be the perfect display, he thinks. Pure ownership, indulgence at its finest. He only wishes he had the guts to do so when he was alive, cock balls deep in your tight little angel cunt for all to see just how well you squirm on it, like you were fucking made to take his cock. For him and him only, a ring of cream forming at the base of his cock to prove that he still has life left in him yet.

Even if it feels like he’s fighting for his life, fucking so deep into your cunt that he’s sure his cold tip is rocking against your cervix, kissing her so full of precum that you’re fucked into squelching around him. He’s just so sick for you, completely and utterly down bad in every sense, that he can’t help but to keep going. Ignoring your cries and pleads for something— he’s too busy getting his cock wet to fully listen to your words. Only that you sound good, making his cock tremble with impatience as his balls grow taut and his hips fight to keep up with the speed he wants to fuck you at.

It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen over by now, getting fucked by the ghost of a rabbit behind you.

“Close—” he chokes out for you, inhaling as much air as he possibly can in an attempt to keep up with himself, but his thrusts falter regardless. Failing to fucking you at a consistent speed and rhythm, caring selfishly only for his own enjoyment as he pounds you uncomfortable against the toilet wall. “So close,” he gasps, genuine and fraught with so much need, the tight suck of your cunt coaxing him closer, as if instinctively trying to help get him off faster, proves to be all he needs in the end.

Because it’s you. Because he’s downright obsessed with you, he doesn’t need much else to get off like a filthy pervert but you, to be honest.

And like the slut he is for you, he bends you over some more, chomping down on your clothed shoulder in a feeble attempt to leave more of his mark. The resulting sob you let out at the painful reminder of his existence forever by your side is what really does him in, fat ropes of cum shooting from his tip to surprise him into pained whimpers of enjoyment. Still, his hips don’t stop, fully milking himself to completion inside of your warm and wet cunt, filling her up enough to have some of his seed drip out and down to the bathroom tiles with muted thuds!

You’re so perfect, so fucking pretty and pliant, unable to escape him forever and ever. He wants to fuck you to death, wants to lock you up and keep you in his pocket so that he can praise your cunt whenever he wants— which is always. Let no one else even think about looking at you, breed you forever and always as thanks simply for existing. Making him feel so good, taking his cock so well—

Heavy breaths escape him as he soon slows down, still yet fucking into you at a lazy pace to make sure you get every single drop of seed he has to offer you. It’s what you deserve, after all, for being such a good girl for him. For being his good girl, more specifically. A sadistic smile making its way to his lips when he wonders if his cum will be seen dripping out of you by others, or if that too will be hidden from everyones view but your own. Your own dirty little secret to share with him; how romantic, huh?

“Love you,” he rushes to sputter as soon as he can catch his breath again, idly stroking himself off still while buried deep in your cunt, nuzzling against your neck while you shiver from under him. “Love you so much, ‘m so happy to be with you, you’re so pretty and perfect and— oh—” your cunt distracts him, as always. Squeezing and suckling his tip in his idle state, a breathy laugh escaping him at your lewd display of continued want.

“S’okay,” he reassures you, humming sweetly down your ear when you sniffle back at his lack of thought. Poor thing, it’s a shame you sound so nice when you cry. “Haven’t forgot about you, promise, just— lemme pull out, okay? Will look after you, make you feel good too.”

Anything to keep you by his side, really. It’s only a bonus that break time is soon approaching, and you’re gonna struggle to keep your mouth shut once he has a chance to get his lips on you. Determined to prove his existence through you by way of getting on his knees on the dirty bathroom stall, tongue already poking out in unadulterated excitement to make you feel good. Better than ever before, so that you’ve got no choice but to accept that he’s your fated mate.

So that you’re forced to accept him by your side, forever and ever. Even after death, you can’t and won’t escape him.