Smut Central (oneshots)(random af)(pwps)

Necro-phil me up

It was all I could do to resist him. His cold, rotten skin only made me want him more. I've always been a sucker for the bad guys, but this took it to a new level. We had an evil competition between us, or at least that's what my brother told me. This man had my soul won, but my body resisted. But it didn't even matter: either way, I was hooked. There was a problem, however. My brother, whom resisted this relationship, couldn't fathom the idea of me being with someone other than him. I wanted to be free of him. I would go to whatever lengths it took to do so, even if it meant killing him. I wasn't about to let my relationship change. 

So, I came to a conclusion while sitting next to my beloved husband's corpse: I would kill him and prevent him from intervening. However, this brought up a problem that I didn't know how to deal with. Do I stick it out without killing him, or switch sides and kill my brother myself, which would cause me to fall in love with him because he would turn into a dead corpse just like my husband. 

This would definitely start a rivalry between my husband and brother for the largest slice of my "undying" love. This could cause me and my husband's relationship to fall apart. I could try to love each corpse equally, but problems would most likely arise.   

Either way, this story just turned incredibly dark. 

I visited his grave regularly, almost every day. My brother detested against it, telling me to "Move on." Blasphemy, complete rubbage-talk. How could I leave my dear alone in the ground, anyway? I just couldn't. So, I didn't. That was, until my brother started stopping me every time I tried to go. 

A FEW DAYS LATER

I hadn't seen him for days since then, and it made my blood boil with anger. So, one night, I snuck out of our house, towards the grave yard where he was buried, and dug him up. I decided I would put him in my bag and carry him around with me wherever I went. It took a few months,  to get used to the rotting smell, but, now, we were closer than ever (and my brother would be none the wiser of his existence in my bag.) 

One night, as my alive brother went to sleep, I took out my bag and unzipped it; I wanted to have some alone time with my husband. I had yet to actually "do it" with him, since I've been waiting for the right time. But, now, I just couldn't wait any longer. In the months that I had been carrying him in my bag, we had talked a lot about our future together as partners. He had told me he wanted children, and I agreed with him. So, tonight would be the night we would try. 

Taking him out of my bag, I placed him carefully on the ground next to my bed and took of his clothes from his sticky, decaying skin. The odor was indescribably incredible as it wafted to each of my nostrils and up my nose elegantly that I could've almost fainted.  

I got onto his tiny member and started going up and down rhythmically.

I started moaning loudly when I got on his cock. It was the most amazing sweet cock I had ever seen and felt in my life. I made him place his hands on my waist, while I turned around so that I was facing him and his visible skull poking through his face. 
His cock slid in and out of my pussy as I could just hear him whispering into my ear, "don't worry I won't leave you, I just want to use you, baby." While he pushed his cock in and out of my pussy, he asked me with a slurp and a hint of excitement to "kiss him."
I did my best to nod while going up and down, and tenderly kissed his dry, bony lips. 

I was getting close to climaxing, and I could tell he was, too. He'd started pumping into me after just a few minutes. I could feel how my pussy was tight and greedy for him, and just how wet from me he was.

It took less than a minute for me to cum in him, and I felt his hot cum deep inside me mix with my own, making it through my pussy in less than a second. I knew how satisfied we both were. This was a new orgasm I had never experienced. I held him tight for a few more minutes while I laid paralyzed in a guilty pleasure, spending another minute milking him from everything he had. 

Something felt off, though. After a few minutes of getting off him and moving around, I could feel something lodged inside of me. Lying down, I tried to pick at whatever was inside me, and touched something. It was my guy's penis: it had come off. As I looked at gooy, green liquid  coming out of me, my brother rushed into my room, turned on the lights, and saw me with a cut penis in my hand with the naked corpse of my husband lying on the ground.  

MONTHS LATER

Well, I wasn't pregnant, but I did probably have some sort of infection or disease. My brother was horrified when he saw me on that day. He was so enraged, that he took me to a mental hospital, yelling at me to, "get help!" I didn't think it was necessary, but he forced me here anyways. Now, I spent my days trying to get over the second loss of my husband. I wasn't able to see him here. They said it was bad because it fueled my insanity. They said it was a defense mechanism to deal with the loss of him when he died. I thought it was crazy to think that. Either way, I was on a road to "recovery," even though I didn't know what I was recovering from. 

To this day, I had never forgotten my dear husabando. Somewhere on this Earth, I would find his decaying skeleton and "bone" him once again, no matter how long it took. 

First, however, I would have to find a way out of this damned facility...