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Cobalt Strings & Carmine Heelys

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Today hadn’t seemed any different than any other.

As best as you could call it today in comparison to any day gone past, given the fact time didn’t really pass in the anti-void - but at the same time did (?). Things happened in a nearly linear manner, matter moving along the third plane through frames of time, and therefore time did exist, but not quite exist alike anywhere else.

… Whatever.

It was today, a new day, as decided by the fact of just having woken up, arching your back as you stood. There was no honest way of telling how long you’d been asleep - minutes, hours, days, years? Who knew?

He did.

And far as he was concerned, he would never let you sleep for that long as is, always one eager for companionship - despite how much he constantly reminded you how much he hated your existence in the first place.

 

“Then why haven’t you just fucking killed me yet?”

language. besides, you’re too fun to fuck with.

“... What?”

tsk. disgusting, thinking i meant it like that.

 

But that conversation was from the beginning before you had begun to grown almost… attached to him - to your captor. Yet, was he really your captor anymore? You could almost say you liked being here, enjoying his company, sans his horrid mood swings and self-tasked job to cleanse the multiverse.

 

one day, i’ll kill you.

“And why not today?”

... shut it.

 

Including you, but apparently, not yet.

Never yet.


You couldn’t find Error anywhere.

It wasn’t that strange, seeing as often enough he was off somewhere in the multiverse or anti-void doing his own thing - you’d also learned through prior trial and error not to question it too much. That led to punishment, something he was quick to dole out, his discipline far from something you think you’d ever grow used to.

Far as you knew, you weren’t currently in trouble of any sort - in fact, Error had last left you be saying he was planning something pleasant, a surprise of sorts. And frankly? You half hoped it was something new to wear, or perhaps a shower, even. Not that you were dirty - it seemed impossible to really get dirty in the anti-void, but what you still wouldn’t give for at least the feeling of a hot shower in the first time in who knows how long.

… Maybe you should try calling out for him? He was always quick to come exactly when it seemed you needed to find him - something you didn’t quite understand but had chalked it up to magic or him just being him.

“Error?”

Your voice, slightly meek from disuse, seemed to echo across the infinite stretch surrounding you, giving you a reminder of just how empty this place was.

Only you and your thoughts.

“hey bruh.”

… Or so you had thought.

Slightly agitated, you turned to face a familiar looking parasite, one who had the odd penchant to always pop up when he wasn’t wanted - something you were certain he probably prided upon if the casual stretch of his ever-present grin was any hint. He was in the same vessel as the last time you saw him, some poor classic sans, dressed in what Fresh probably deemed his regular clothes.

Whatever… those clothes were, anyways.

“What are you doing here?” Your narrowed eyes and stern look more than plenty said to back off, but the racing of your heart always seemed to give away at your unease. Fresh never did bode well - his visits in Error’s absence always setting you off-guard and making you worried he might try and infect you, and yet he never did. You supposed Error’s anger at the parasite’s visitation in his absence was probably reason enough if just to piss off your… captor (?).

(It’s getting harder and harder by the day to figure out what exactly he is to you.)

“aww, don’t be uncool,” Fresh loosely placed his hands in his shorts, undaunted and grinning merrily as if you two were nothing but the best of pals. As if. “you def need to take a chill pill an’ relax, it’s just lil ol’ me, your best pal - sansy fresh.

“You’re not my pal.” You immediately snap back, but can’t help and feel uneasy. Something didn’t feel right - something was wrong .

“oh c’mon, my pal chum buddy friend amigo,” He took a step forward - and for a split second, how his shades flashed from ‘YOLO’ to ‘HELP’, ever permanent grin twitching. The sudden manic magic that sparked in response made you retreat a step backwards in return, wishing for all the world Error would show up at any moment. “- you say that like you don’t want my help.”

… What?

“Help?” You snorted, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend you were unafraid and unfazed by this parasite. Worst comes to worst, you were still strong, weren’t you?

(Why couldn’t you stand up like this to Error anymore?)

(Why didn’t you want to?)

“that’s right, broski. my help .” Host pauses, and you only continued to give him an untrusting look, knowing full well you didn’t want anything to do with Fresh. From what Error had told you, he was nothing but a dirty glitch, one that had apparently been plaguing him for far longer than comfortable.

“With what?” You didn’t need any help. The only help you wanted right now was Error’s, and it was only to get rid of Fresh.

“y’know, for a cool gal who’s bein’ forced into staying here,” Ever so casual, and yet, his sudden deflection throws you off. “... you sure act like you don’t even wanna leave. almost as if that totally unradical error dude is your friend or something.”

What could you say to that?

“and hey, i’m totally willin’ to get you outta this unfresh place in a jiffy,” an offer, so casually given with a naturally lazy grin turning sly. “You just gotta be willin’ to help me with a lil problem of mine.”

“... Problem?” Confusion and lack of resolve aside, you couldn’t help but ask, distrust etched into your tone. What kind of problem could a multiversal parasite like Fresh have that you of all people could help with?

“somethin’ real wiggidy wack.” sharp, how that grin carves across his skull, near borderline dangerous. And as dangerous as Fresh normally was, the way he was suddenly eyeing you wasn’t something you even recognized, let alone from the jovial host. Sure, he’d given you probing looks before - something you chalked up to him thinking of infecting you. But this? This was… different. “somethin’ only you can help me out with, jaybird.”

(Jaybird. That - that was new.)

“Like what?” You tried, somewhat nervously for clarity, growing tired of him dancing around the topic.

… But why were you even asking?

It’s not like you were interested in helping him in favor of leaving, were you?

Then again it’s not exactly as if you were here of your own free will after all, were you? Not at the end of the day.

Seeing you were thinking things over, Fresh kept his silence, leaning back on an invisible wall that you were sure hadn’t been there to begin with, but to be fair the floor of the anti-void was much the same in that regard. He looked completely at ease, as if he hadn’t just thrown you into the middle of a crisis. Then again, by the tugging smug grin on his skull, he probably meant for it.

The thing was, you enjoyed being here - with Error. Sure, the moments you spent on your lonesome were frequent, but the time you spent with the glitched monster more common, outweighing that by far. But then Error threatened you, would willingly leave you here, for indefinite amounts of time as if hoping to drive you mad. And yet, you sought out his attention, craved for his praise and longed for him, yet not like that -

Not like that.

Not…

 

Error was your captor.

He probably killed everyone you once loved.

But… was it so bad if you couldn’t even remember the faces of those he ripped you from in the first place?

 

Had it been so long that you’d forgotten this?

Forgotten this place wasn’t your home?

That once upon a time, it had been your personal hell?

 

You remember with startling clarity, the first time you met Error.

When he’d kidnapped you.

 

How long had it been since monsters fought their way to the surface? Almost three years, now. The amount of time since then had little significance it seemed, when it came to how the magical creatures were deferred to in a matter of worth throughout the world. Yet they never seemed to mind - immune to the prejudice and animosity they found in their day to day lives.

You only wished you could feel as grateful as they seemed to be for the life you were given on the surface, just as they had been.

It’s not that you were unhappy, only desperate to feel the same love of life these monsters had. They were always such beautiful people, said to have been made purely from love, hope, and compassion. It certainly showed through what little interaction you ever had.

You had a quaint life, working your dream drop, had a plethora of budding hobbies, and a family you knew would be there for you. Your friends came mostly in the form of acquaintances both online and in life, as well as coworkers, but you didn’t mind in the slight. You had plenty to fill your time with - plenty to hide from your loneliness with.

And yet.

You had the day off, and as usual, you spent it by taking a walk through Ebott city, letting your feet guide you. Some days you’d take a familiar path - other days, you would find yourself lost, past dark, and in need of a rideshare home. Thankfully, you always seem to find your way home, a little groggy and sore in the morning but none the worse for wear.

Today you’d wandered onto the trail of Mount Ebott, finally getting to a long overdue want of yours. From what you knew, the trail went right up the mountain’s peak and even branched off towards the two entrances of the Underground - one of which was cordoned, the other turned into the entrance of a now frequented tourist spot. One you’d never bothered to visit, set off by all the fanfare.

The path seemed a little worn up this side of the mountain nevertheless, unused as of late, which you understood - why walk up a literal mountain when you could take the newly paved roads? For you, right now it was all about enjoying the scenery and putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. The forest around you was lively with the clear air of mid-spring, the tree line embellished by the golden sway of encroaching buttercups, leaving the air fragrant.

You’d been down this path before - but not since before monsters had walked the surface.

But that had been a long, long time ago. You are no longer the same person you once were.

 

It wasn’t long until you ran into someone else.

It was strange, the way the air had become suddenly thick, suffocating with a tension you recalled as the use of pent up magic. You had followed the feeling, the strange crackling in the air - something was hissing broken static, and despite the creeping fear, you couldn’t help the morbid curiosity. It was a monster, wasn’t it? And from what you knew of monsterkind, you had nothing to fear.

You didn’t know what you expected when you found the creature responsible for the bitter tang against your tongue, their suppressed magic running like static across your skin. Whoever it was had their back to you, standing between a small grove of trees, the buttercups seeming to spring to full attention beside slipper-clad feet. Dressed in all black, crimson bones wove their frame together where you could see.

That wasn’t what had you so terrified.

A single hand raised, gently flicking fingers, there creature stood with a tear in the air large as their torso lying before them. Some kind of fracture, with no other way as to describe it beyond glitching at the edges, forced into being. As they swiped phalanges, a different image would appear, one after the next, as simple as changing channels.

Some of the images were of Ebott City, with the blossoming jewel it was burning to the ground or of it lifted into the sky on a suspended island. Some of the images were of a familiar child - sometimes with a knife or stick in hand, as they coated themselves with dust or magic. Some images were of an even familiar looking skeleton monster, sometimes in black, sometimes tall, sometimes a child - but most commonly in a blue jacket.

(You felt as if you knew him, but you could not recall his name.)

You don’t know how long you watched, a distorted humming seeming to rise above the thick static, a tuneless melody that the unknown monster droned out mindlessly.

Eventually, however, the image shifted again - but this time, it was of you.

Crouched behind the foliage, the setting sun striking down your confused, curious, dazed featured with haunted exaggerations. You watched, as your face turned towards shock, horror, then finally, realization as you looked to the creature.

He was looking directly at you, and with another gentle flick of colored phalanx’s, the tear disappeared, static cutting away.

l ike what you see? ” A sneer. His voice was akin to his appearance. Glitched, frayed, wrong, forced into existence. He frightened you, and yet you stayed where you were, taking the moment to actually look at him. Dressed in a long black coat seemingly kept together by poor stitching alone, red sweater, blue scarf, and tattered black pants, threaded with little care.

You almost thought him for a skeleton - he certainly looked like one, but his skull was black, visible arms and legs red, fingers interchanging colors of yellow, red, and black, metacarpals looking almost fused together into a palm. His expression was what unnerved you most - a near lethal looking grin was carved across his skull, eyes completely uneven as streaks of blue ran alike tears down freckled cheekbones.

a dull one, are you? ” Laughter spilled from ribcage alike a skipping record, and you couldn’t help the heat that found it’s way to your face. Despite the unknown you faced, there was nothing that gave away that he meant you harm. There was a sense of discontent, yes, but what did you know?

Monsters, after all, were made from love, hope, and -

Pain.

He was holding out the same hand once again, and static laid a thick humidity into his returning magic that seemed to suffocate you from within your very lungs. Before you hung your soul, a vibrant and glowing little thing, defiant even as blue strings threaded across its surface, spun through the air from his palm. You could feel near each fiber of every string as if they were touching against raw flesh, pulling you up and towards him, body immobile and hanging limp like a puppet - the weight of your body hanging in the air only cutting the pain of the strings straining against your soul even tighter.

Your initial cry of pain was stolen from you by clenched teeth, a choked, ragged sound with pained gasps for breath slow going. He seemed unfazed, watching you with near a careless eye, but the rising edge of his smile betrayed him, giving hint at his enjoyment at your torture.

... look at you. weak, pathetic. a glitch in need of being erased. ” His voice a soft sigh, you suddenly found the strength to struggle - nay, the determination - ignoring the way his grasp on your soul cut into your very being.

“Let… Me… Go… !” you were almost proud of how brave you sounded even with heart a jackhammer in your chest, and he seemed surprised by it as well, a familiar look flitting over his features. It almost seemed like frustration, par the total control he had over the situation. You could feel the absolute firmness of his grasp all the same, the unsaid threat that if you kept this way your soul would shatter.

And instinct, almost.

maybe you aren’t the pity i thought you, little glitch. ” The look of morbid curiosity he gave you now was one you knew too well - hadn’t you just been watching him from the safety of the foliage with the same look mere moments ago?  “...  and yet, i doubt you have any good reasons why i shouldn’t kill you now.

The tight grasp on your soul weakened momentarily, but enough to let you spit out an answer.

“I don’t know - you… tell me?” Adrenaline ran like wildfire through you, stronger than any caffeine, burning through both your heart and soul. It felt near disgusting, timid, but empowering all at once, like breaking apart while standing to your own defense at the same time. You held onto it nevertheless, tighter than anything else. “You haven’t done it… yet, but maybe that’s because you keep - running your… mouth!”

Perhaps provoking him wasn’t the best idea.

There was a slow, sudden noise that crept from him like the way his laughter had, only it thrummed in the static holding you tight, a snarl that resonated in his bones and mirrored the re-tightening of thin, sturdy strings laced upon your soul. A murderous look crossed his skull, and yet he laughed all the same, giving you the distinct impression of someone unhinged.

l et’s see how that smart mouth of yours treats you in the anti-void, little glitch. i doubt you won’t even last long enough for me to tear your world apart.

Before you could even question what he had said, he was opening that tear - forcing it to exist in reality - and was using magic and strings alike you toss you straight into it.

 

But that had been so long ago.

Now, you and Error were…

You were…

You were what, exactly?

He still threatened you. Still treated you like shit -

He didn’t care about you. He killed all of your family, friends, everyone you once knew and those you never would, and you had grown to accept that. Why had it taken Fresh telling you otherwise in order to finally see it once again?

You were sick.

What if Error had done nothing but lie this entire time?

What if Fresh really could help you?

But… What if Fresh was lying? Using you as a means to an end?

What if they both were?

That seemed much more likely - that you were nothing but trapped between both of them, something to play with and break. But then, what was the point, if you had nothing left for you?

Maybe… Maybe helping Fresh would bring you a reason, some reason that you weren’t just a toy for these two. That and you knew it would infuriate destroyer to know you’d finally wised up and left - all with the help of the parasite he hated oh so much.

“... You promise to take me somewhere safe if I help you?” Albeit, you were still unconvinced in whatever it was he might need your help with, but it couldn’t be something that bad, now could it? Besides, for all you’d been told bad about Fresh, you’d never actually seen him do anything worth being worried about - par infecting world by the mass. He was staring at you surprisingly quiet in a fashion he was far from known for, where above those sunglasses of his did two misshapen eye-lights blaze violet. “And you also have to promise not to infect me or whatever, deal?”

And then did the skeleton stand up off of the invisible wall, pushing shades up with more dramatic flare than necessary. His grin resembled something lethal - something that made your skin crawl, shades flashing too quickly for you to catch whatever might’ve been on their surface. He didn’t even speak - instead, just disappeared.

What…?

Where…?

… Had he left you?

Confused, you frowned-  but suddenly, without any kind of warning, he was right in front of you far too quick to register. Grasping one of your arms with his own with a tight grip that threatened to bruise, an undignified squeak left you - you were used to Error trying to jumpscare you in such a way, but this was different.

Fresh was close - too close, a thin violet dusting his cheekbones. You could feel the heat of his breath, stunning you into silence, the idea that a skeleton - no, a parasite - had to breathe, making you wonder for a flitting moment if Error did as well.

Parasite’s smile was a muted, soft thing, his mutated eye-lights looking at you from above shades that read his next word.

deal.


The world around you was spinning, tilting on its axis as you were ripped apart and brought together again, left tasting the coalescence of Fresh’s magic on your tongue alike the sensation of pop candy. He must’ve shortcutted the both of you - explaining the familiar feeling of your stomach tempting to try and empty itself.

Fresh still had a hard grip on your arm, and before you could even think about looking around wherever he must’ve taken you, you were suddenly slammed against a wall. Confined between the firm surface and the presence of Fresh’s body, the parasite refused to give you the room to struggle, let alone breathe. You let out a surprised cry, confused, head still spinning and knees buckling from the sudden shift.

You could feel him taking the arm in his grasp and pinning it to your side, your own eyes closed as you struggle to catch your breath beyond the harsh beating of your heart. Fear and adrenaline race through you - once again making you feel sick as the parasite holding you down snarled , much akin to the way Error might.

“Fresh - w-what are you -”

The words are stolen from you as something - something fizzing like carbonation upon your skin presses your mouth shut, leaving you unable to finish. Eyes open wide at the sudden use of magic once more, finding your new captor holding you still, one hand pinning your arm while the other fisted the material of your shirt near your waist. His head was lowered, near settled unto the juncture of your neck, hot heavy panting drawing from you a shudder.

You were terrified.

Fresh had promised - he had promised he wasn’t going to infect you.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

He’d lied.

… Why couldn’t you have just stayed happy, being with Error?

And now he was - he was going to -

You fought back the harsh sting of tears as you tried to push him away with your free hand, pressing hard against his chest to try and get him as far away as possible. It was no use – the parasite only snarled once more, a sound drug from his ribcage deep and predatory, showing you just how fruitless it was.

Then unbidden, a sensation almost like cool wet glass, sliding across your neck over pulse point. There was another, softer growl, but this time as if in approval. Pulled from constricting lungs, you gasped, almost certain he were about to dig his teeth into your neck and tear you open.

“... i told ya, jaybird,” Fresh’s voice sounded richer than you’d ever heard it, burdened and yet firm. You were starting to have a horrible realization - a thought that made you wish you could speak if only to beg he would infect you instead of what you thought might come next. “... you’re gonna lend a hand for a lil problem of mine.”

The look he fixed you with next, skull raising to stare you dead in the eye - it stopped you near completely.

The light purple that had dusted his cheekbones was rooted into a deep-seated flush, the rich violet taking in most of his skull. His teeth were parted, a similar colored phantasmal tongue hanging lewdly, giving you a good idea what that feeling on your neck had been. You could take in both of his eye-sockets this way, the right a dark chasm rimmed magenta, the left much the same but centered with a cracking, white, upside down heart - all kept carefully, delicately, in place by phantom strings, much alike your own soul when Error saw fit.

“... somethin’ wrong, bucko?” Fresh drawled the words, all without even closing fanged jaw. The voice drew from his ribcage alike his snarl, his shades reading as ‘SO HOT’ in neon colors. What could you do? You could only hope he was messing with you - then again, Fresh had never gone this far in terms of some kind of prank.

You could only hope this was the case.

“made a pact, didn’ we?” The deep severity of his tone only struck you further, the lack of his usual flare and persona setting you off-guard. This wasn’t like him - something had to be wrong. Fresh never touched other beings - never touched you. As far as you had assumed, he might as well have haphephobia much like Error, refusing to touch anyone. Then again, you never saw Fresh with anyone beyond you and Error, and more often than not the parasite was dodging his attention and focus, lest he be erased.

The fizzing magic against your mouth dissipated, tongue quick to dart out and lick your lips and noting the way the residue magic reminded you of the taste of chalk and dust - or perhaps, even bitter soap.

He was giving you an expectant look as if waiting for an answer.

The thing was, you had made a deal, hadn’t you?

You would help him with his… problem - and he would take you somewhere safe, without infecting you with his virus. But you’d been so caught up in remembering exactly who Error was and the fact you were his captive, not his friend, that you hadn’t even bothered to press for what his problem was.

And now, here you were, absolutely sure that his ‘problem’ was the hot press of whatever it was inside his shorts, stiff against your thighs.

pal, i just asked you a question, didn’ i?” Heavy does Fresh cut into your thoughts, the closeness of his hard grin and sharp teeth making you near dizzy. “after all, my chum buddy pal - ” His voice seemed to drag low and without warning, and sudden, how he ground his pelvis against your own, his erection pressing against you in a place and fashion you would deny until your very last breath made you want more. “... it’s totally impolite, nevermind wack should you leave a good friend in need like that - like this.

He did it again, and this time, you couldn’t hold back the soft whine -

In surprise.

Not in…

No.

You were not Enjoying This.

But… Fresh knew.

Parasite knew you were lying to yourself, and the shame you felt was crushing as he ducked his head back down to the junction of your neck. You couldn’t help the shaking gasp as he began to grind against you in earnest, the hand that you had once used to try and push him away grasping tightly onto the front of his jacket. He held fast to your right arm against the wall as if for leverage, his own free hand dipping beneath your shirt to dig into the soft skin of your waist with a strength you knew would bruise.

“F- Fuck you, ” Finally did the words spit from your chapped lips, and for a few moments, you were confused as to not be censored - instead, only to feel the sharp digging pain of his teeth pressing into the flesh of your shoulder. A hitched cry was ripped from you, but with a determined press of him grinding into you rougher than before, it turned into a low, drawn-out sound that -

Was. Not a moan.

How distorted laughter came from the parasite despite the current placement of his tongue and teeth, the mere sound causing you to nearly tremble against him. But - But, you didn’t want this. You never agreed to this! And yet, you couldn’t help but hold onto him where you stood, tilting your head, slow if at his nudging to give him better access.

“W-why…?”

“i told’ja , pal,” How skeleton could sound exasperated, breaking the skin of your shoulder with teeth, if not annoyed, you would never know. “‘ve got a problem - and you’re gonna help me fix it.

He… He had to be messing with you. Or - or there truly was something wrong with him. There had to be. Fresh - Error - beings like them didn’t do this. They didn’t touch people like this - didn’t do it against their will. And yet was it really against your will? You’d agreed to help him - and you… you couldn’t deny it any longer. The way he was lathering attention to the fragile skin of your neck if only to purposely bruise and bleed it, holding you down between him and the wall, bucking against you without mercy -

You liked it.

“... i-it’s my host,” Sudden, near-final does Fresh grind the words out, the hand threateningly tight on your side beginning to wander up, dangerously slow with hard pressed against the soft flesh of your abdomen. He wouldn’t stop rumbling - a primal, hungry sound that once again reminded you of his previous fear of tearing into your throat and bleeding you dry. His voice, despite its depravity and lust, had a nearly broken quality to it that tore at your fractured attention beyond the building haze from his assault of ministrations.

“it... it’s in heat,” Near does he whine, a soft sound in comparison to all before, only to pair it with a deep bite to your exposed shoulder, your shirt having fallen enough to expose enough smooth skin for him to do so. The slice of his sharp teeth in your flesh made you groan near in pleasure, arching gently against him. How his own cry in response greets you - the two of you lost in the feeling of being pressed whole bodily against the other.

You didn’t understand what the meant. Or, even if you did, which you were certain perhaps if you thought back it might sound familiar to your time in a world you had once called home - that fog of lust had begun to already start to cloud your judgment, too thick, something deep within you responding and igniting at the heated flare of his magic crackling along your skin.

Had it been any other situation, maybe you would’ve fought longer.

But you were so tired.

Lonely.

You’d been so lonely even before meeting Error - at any chance of intimacy, paired with the effect of Fresh’s dizzying, fizzling magic, you couldn’t fight. You wanted this.

You wanted…

You wanted him.

“F- Fresh -” You couldn’t even finish as he began to soothe over the new addition to the growing gallery of marks upon your shoulder with cool tongue, only to tilt his skull up far enough to give you a direct look filled with such longing - “ Fuck - Fresh, please!”

“... what’s wrong, jaybird?” The new nickname seems to be a favorite of his as he croons, and if you could compare to someone as wrecked looking like him at this moment to having doe eyes and feigned innocence, you would. But with that parted jaw, dribbling saliva, lolling tongue - well, the look did nothing but draw attention to your quickly soaking underwear.

“I… I need -” It was then that his free hand had roamed high enough under your shirt to press over a perk nipple through your bra, earning you to twitch against him in response, hissing out through clenched teeth. His open-mouthed grin turned devilish, and you gripped his jacket tighter in frustration, your pinned hand balling into a closed fist. “... I swear to f-

Then he twisted perk bud straining tight, the action causing you to cry out against him, bucking into his hips. The friction caused both of you to cry out - you with a high-pitched, breathy keen and him with his low, spine-shivering growl.

“no need for such talk, y’get me? it’s unbecomin’ a girl of your… position .” And yet for all intents and purposes, he sounded strained, and once again you were vaguely reminded that this wasn’t him. It wasn’t a real person. It was a prisoner - a Sans, trapped in his own body, being drained and put to death by a virus.

He twisted your other nipple, pulling tight and causing the hard peak to press out through your clothes as if merely searching once again for his rough touch.

Any ill thought was once again forgotten, and you were quickly reminded of the quickly growing sense of need between your legs by a hot flash to your core. To be frank, it was growing considerably uncomfortable, your protests and desire for his touch - any touch - expressed through soft, breathy moans. Fresh was still bucking against you, grinding down hard, and you needed him.

“... now, weren’t you saying somethin’, sweet thing?”

Your eyes fluttered open (when had you closed them?), an amused chuckle rolling from deep through his ribcage, moving through you with a well-placed shudder that jerked your hips just right - something of his had finally pressed against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your legs, the sheer friction enough to make you convulse - but still. Not. Enough.

“P… Please, Fresh - please, ” Your head fell limp against his shoulder, and how you ignored the way your body was beginning to cramp from being held against the wall for too long. And so, you did something risky, hoping it would be enough to have him finally touch you, rather than this gentle scrape of bone beneath your shirt over your bra, and the grinding of your clothed sexes.

(It was good, but how you needed more. )

“... please, ” You kept pleading, your lowered head close enough to his neck that you started to gently lather his neck with your tongue, soft thing against the chalky taste of hard spine. For a few moments nothing happened. He had stopped, pausing altogether, before gasping into a quiet, broken moan. It only encouraged you, and you refused to stop, going from lapping to teething, to a gentle scraping of your teeth along vertebra, all as you felt every divot and mark on the chipped enamel.

Fresh finally seemed to grasp the message, as the hand under your shirt finally started to travel down, lower, the one still grasping your wrist so tight you knew you’d have bruises come to. Finally taking some initiative, your hand clasping to the front of his jacket made a tentative beeline for the hem of his own clothing. Just as his hand finally slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, your own explorative touch started to slip its way beneath his jacket.

He froze over completely near the exact moment gentle fingers found his lowest rib, a sound much deeper, much more carnal torn from him. You could feel the shudder of his bones, the resonance of the deep sound shivering across thick ivory.

n o .

Just as unbidden and quickly as the time prior, your stomach turned on itself, body pressed down heavily on something soft, much more giving and comfortable than the wall. There was a heavy yet comforting weight atop you, Fresh straddling your prone form that lay face up. He must have shortcutted the two of you to a bed, wherever this was.

You were far too busy to really care where.

Despite your clenched teeth and spinning head, Fresh paid no mind and with a harsh tug and satisfying rip came off your shirt, torn and lying at your sides. Your eyes snapped open - frustrated, infuriated by the loss of your only shirt, yet the moment you saw him it made the words catch in your throat.

Fresh was on his knees between your legs, jacket zipped open and hanging loosely from shoulders showing off pale ivory that glinted in the dim lighting as if beckoning your touch. He was hunched over you, the very bones that seemed to almost call for your touch shuddering and rattling gently against one another, wisps and sparks of plum colored magic fizzing against his form. Wherever the magic could make contact with your skin, it felt like a pleasant bubble - something akin a bath bomb, melting into your skin.

Jaw still hung open, unhinged, his sunglasses lost somewhere only to leave the ever-present reminder of his host’s soul set like a beacon in his left eye, a mockery of a skeleton monster’s usual eye-lights. His hands were now holding tight to your bra - you knew what he was going to do, but before you could even ease your spinning head enough to even comprehend telling him no, it was torn away.

You weren’t even given the chance to get comfortable nor try and get ruined clothes off before he snapped. Monster descended, one hand going to massage one breast, his mouth latching onto the other.

“A- oh fuck!” You didn’t - you had no idea what to do with your hands. You went to raise them, perhaps even grab onto him or push his jacket fully off him, but Fresh didn’t like that. With a gruff noise, his left eye-socket’s flare of magic sparked brighter, and something pulled both of your hands back, the feeling against your skin much alike to the same magic that had gagged you prior.

At the very least, he’d forgone to censor you this time.

One hand used to prop himself up, he was undeterred in his attempts to ravage your chest, all while grinding down atop you. Your spine bent, your back arching up to move against him, near as a complete loss. There were so many sensations - from the hard press of your hands held far above you to the almost teasing yet easy rock he set between the two of you.

You just wanted him to touch you already.

Almost as if he knew, Parasite worked in spite of you. He stopped his rutting, instead focused purely on the supple flesh of your chest. You tried bucking against him, to get him to return to giving you some kind of relief but it was impossible to even rub your legs together with the way he seated between them.

“Fresh - just touch me alr -”

The familiar press of bubbling magic against your mouth, keeping it shut.

All you could do was take what he gave you.

“didn’t i tell you already?” Ground out between sharp teeth and the valley of your breasts, monster lifted his head from your chest with two sockets pitch as night, even blank from the plum colored magic that infested him so richly moments prior. You could feel, achingly so, as he stilled completely atop you. You were shivering, heart pumping what felt like slugged ice at such a look.

“shut. your. fucking. mouth.”

The hand priorly teasing your chest arose, and when it found the space of your bare throat it pressed down harshly. Suddenly, it got very, very hard to breathe.

This wasn’t… This was nothing like Fresh.

… Then again, you didn’t really know the parasite all that well, did you?

You only ever saw what he showed you.

Fuck.

“... y’want me to touch you - with that kind of lingo?” He moved as he asked, lifting himself up the length of your body so that he was closer, his need now pressing directly upon your own. His skull was so close - the iridescent purple flame of his magic crackling into a near firestorm that raged across his skull down single eye-socket. “... unrad, kid.”

Then, softer. Lower,

“y’want me to fuck you, little bird?” Each word - each continuation of his rant - and the pressure increased on your throat. You could still breathe, yes, but the fear - the simulation of it all - it was almost too much . You were - you were - fuck -

“... yeah?” Words curled through razor teeth, the simple pressing of his palm turning into an iron grip that had his phalanges digging into your skin, irritating the marks he had made not too long prior with teeth and tongue. “you not gonna answer me? leave a bro hangin’?”

You hated him.

But fuck if you didn’t want him.

And how he laughed, once again a low hollow thing that sounded near bitter and wrathful to your ears. Leaning down even further, and you could feel the gentle press of his cheshire grin against your ear.

“you close, human?

You don’t know what - but something, something solid, read but somehow impossible was touching you. Through your pants and underwear, relentless and feeling akin to the cool wet glass of his tongue and yet fizzling like magic. Whatever it was toyed with your clit, quick, darting, playful touches causing your legs to tremble. It was almost enough - almost -

And then, once again, he brought down sharp canines onto an untouched shoulder.

You came undone, arching, begging, grasping -

His teeth, his chokehold, your pinned body, the non-stop touch on your clit -

You cried out, sharp - high - loud, muffled by the gag.

Fresh groaned out, deep and needy, with you - and you wondered for a splitting moment if he’d come too.

You were panting, and somehow in the midst of your orgasm, he had let up his hand from your throat, lungs greedy for air. You could still feel the imprint of his fingers on your skin, certain that after this was all said and done, you’d be marked all over. Where he’d just bitten you felt raw - a pain sharper than anywhere he’d deemed necessary to mark you before, blood drawn and hot against hotter skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, eyesight hazy from the sheer force of such an orgasm. Skeleton was seated back on his knees, watching you with wide sockets. You couldn’t read the expression on his skull - awe? Confusion? Frustration? Sadness?

… Regret?

But Fresh didn’t feel things like Regret or Awe, didn’t feel emotions at all - he’d told you himself, at one point or another, confirmed by Error.

It was gone as quick as you saw it, a flickering mirage you might not think existed at all had you not seen it. Once again came the look of want and need, his hands placing themselves on your navel before trailing down -

He stopped at the top of your pants, digging his two fingers into the waistband and tugging slightly, teasingly, only to snap it back against skin. Grin sharper than a crescent moon, monster unhooked phalanges to shrug off the rest of his jacket, letting it fall somewhere to the side. You didn’t care to see where, too caught on the rise of pelvic crests from within colorful shorts, the material and bone alike tinted with slight glow.

Despite the orgasm Fresh had brought you moments prior without dare laying a physical hand on you - you still wanted him.

You wanted him bad.

And for all the demanding look he was giving, you wanted to tell him as much, let him know, but magic would not allow such a thing, the taste of chalk on your tongue.

Fresh need not say anything on his own end - surprisingly untalkative, and yet he let his body speak for him, touch moving to his own shorts, phalanges sliding down ribcage as if he were putting on a show - wasn’t monster in heat? How did he have this much control?

Hands found the edge of his shorts, grasping for the fabric and sliding it off and away - it just didn’t do justice for all the build-up - you wanted him to tear them off, the same way he’d done to your own shirt and bra.

Translucent, appearing how you glimpsed his tongue, was a phantasmal wine colored cock, standing proudly at attention between the hard bones of his femurs. It was big, yes, but most importantly it looked damn near perfect - you could feel your walls tighten, a pleasurable twinge running down your spine at sight alone.

Fuck.

He didn’t even speak. Stolen soul watched your expression, smug grin telling you more than words ever could. But there was something empty - something almost stiff about his motions as he reached for your own pants, undoing them without any kind of flourish like prior, tugging them and your underwear off in a single, clean motion.

Something was off - but…

Gone were your pants and underwear, off to wherever he’d tossed his own clothes. Once again, you were reminded of the small chafe of your torn shirt and bra beneath you, but in the moment you doubted he was willing enough to pull them off you or allow you the freedom - and you could hardly blame him.

Parasite was stuck looking to your sex, mouth once again open and a tongue lolling out teeth as he put one warm, firm hand on your inner thigh to help ease the spread of your legs wide, the other, tentatively, bringing phalanges to touch at your folds.

Why was he being so gentle?

Single phalange slid up your slit with tentative care before nearing your clit - only to stoke back down again, this time to part your lower lips. You were wet, terribly so - you needed him, and you weren’t quite sure how to take his sudden slow-going pace at this point.

Without warning, Fresh pushed in two fingers to the knuckle, the sudden intrusion smooth from prior orgasm. You could feel every bump and ridge of knobbed phalanges, your breathing hitching from behind the gag, coming in short gasps as sparks of magic raced from captured soul down bones and into you.

The sudden addition of magic, plus the unwarranted addition of another finger - and suddenly he was fingering you, slow but hard. You let out a long, muffled wail - it was too much. You thought you were ready, but the euphoria of his magic massaging your cunt paired with the scissoring of his fingers was at the same time nowhere near enough.

You knew he was just getting you ready for something better -

But you also knew he was more than likely enjoying teasing you, knowing you were helpless beneath him and his want.

Fresh kept going - even with your muffled cries against the gag, his gaze was only for your own, as if he were studying, burning to memory every shift and fraction of change in your expression. The severity of his look paired with his continuous touch - stars, he was finger fucking you and it was so good.

Just as you had begun to get lost in the winding press of another oncoming orgasm did monster finally pull away, and you looked up with a throaty mewl, finding the magic of the gag fading to fizzing suds. You watched, breathless and heaving, as he brought the three fingers from within you up to his mouth, and his nasal ridge contracted in an audible inhale - as if he could smell you - before a plethora of tongues poured from his mouth, working to clean his fingers of your mess.

You thought - hadn’t he…?

You didn’t care whether you were positive he’d only had one tongue prior. It didn’t matter.

What did matter was the fact he was shifting, slowly leaning over to cover your body with his own, and upon finally feeling his cock press against you thick and heavy, you nearly cried. His bones were warm, sturdy things, the magic racing throughout his body and against your own setting your skin on fire.

“F-fuck, Fresh -

“That’s right,” he answered your plea with skeletal hands gripping you harshly, digging into your flesh for purchase. You could feel him sliding against you - drawing the slick of your folds onto his cock, getting ready to take you. Parasite breathed as heavily as you did, the magenta flush that had once claimed his cheekbones nearly painting every inch upon his body.

It wasn’t long until you felt him catch on your cunt, your lungs hitching.

“i want t’hear you.”

He hilted inside of you with a single thrust, barely catching on the thick part of his cock, large girth stretching you out fully, a long, drawn-out sigh passing through your lips. There was a pause, just for a moment, as the two of you lay together with his forehead against your own, eye-sockets shut. He looked - he almost looked at peace, even a stranger expression than every false emotion you saw before.

It was all you caught in the precious moments of your walls fluttering to accommodate him, loose from prior orgasm, the muted feeling of how right this was.

With little prompt he began to move within you, shallowly, slowly, drawing out shuddering gasps from the two of you. Your hands flexed in their confines, your back arching against every movement of his own as if desperate to meet him thrust for thrust. You wanted - you needed -

“L-let me - let me touch you, please -”

Then did his eye-sockets snap open, and for a few moments, he stilled to a few sloppy, yet fast thrusts, gaze narrowed. A strangled, impatient snarl tore from his throat, the white of his host’s soul flickering for a few moments - and suddenly, your hands were freed.

Good thing.

It was then Fresh lost what little control he had.

There were a few hard, fast thrusts that nearly made you dizzy, the sudden impale of his cock making you see stars. He didn’t give you a moment to recover before he set a brutal pace, your hands coming down to grasp wherever they could. His bones shuddered and rattled at your touch, the close proximity to his rampant magic making you feel as if there were pins and needles throughout your body - but it was worth it, the way your hand trailed along tainted bones, how he keened into a broken growl.

But he wouldn’t stop. He was snarling, feral as he claimed you, louder than any cry you could have made for him to slow down. He just didn’t care - he wasn’t there anymore.

No longer a parasite, but a monster.

You were delirious with the ecstasy, the drag of his thick member in your cunt, the slam of his hard pelvis against your soft skin, the stiff grip of your bruised flesh to keep you at his mercy - he seemed to love it just as you did, the ragged noise of his pleasure not enough to hide his drawn-out moans and cries when you tightened around him -

It was all too much.

(But it was enough .)

You came first, the harsh and sudden tightening of your inner walls making you cry out, but what words exactly, escaped you.

Fresh followed quickly, spurred on by your own orgasm, spilling hot cum inside of you, burning and yet a comforting thing all the same.


You don’t quite remember much of what happened after.

The sound of him shuffling around, getting dressed.

His form above you on what you finally recognized as a cream colored bed, and the sudden press of him lifting you into his arms.

Barely, tiredly, did you remember asking, “Where… Where are we going?”

Your lips were chapped. Your mouth dry, body aching in a duality of pain and pleasure.

“somewhere safe.”

It was all parasite said.

Like he’d promised.

A flitting smile had deliriously placed itself onto your lips, smiling into his chest.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was a familiar blinding white, with Fresh placing your limp, bruised, magic-stained body onto the ground.

“... Where… ?” You were too tired to do much other than glance up at him weakly, and he barely paused to take the time to place a familiar neon jacket atop you.

“somewhere safe.” He promised, and then left you, back where you’d started.