Xcess - jeffgayzos - Metalocalypse (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

She rattles awake in her bare, lonely bed, white like a slab of marble, skin chilled, capillaries numb. The air is thin and manufactured in its stillness and void of breath like something otherworldly.

That biological impulse that makes babies cry for their mothers when hurt was weaned out of her early on, replaced with some gritty impulse that crawls beneath her flesh with centipede legs.

Skwisgaar’s shadow crosses the room on tiptoes, evading pursuit. She goes down the great arching halls of Mordhaus and into its guts and she is brought on instinct to the little room tucked between its twisting staircases and cryptic passageways.

She is soundless through the door, her legs nimble in their desperation to move, her steps quick as she crosses the floor and slips her trembling body into that little twin bed and pulls the heavy duvet into the folds of taut, bare skin.

Toki sleeps like the dead. Drool pours from his mouth. Skwisgaar works her knees between his legs, alternating one after the other, and slides up to press the right, aching part of her against his hip.

She huffs feverishly. She is hard beneath her flimsy silk shorts, and the inside of the deep green fabric is soaked.

He stirs a little, but keeps snoring, as she reaches between her legs to slip the fabric down to strain at her perinium and squeezes the warm base of her cock against the lowest segment of pads on her fingers.

Her chin lolls against Toki’s shoulder and the sides of their heads press as she rubs the head of her cock against his hip, first over the aged fabric of his t-shirt, then against the cool skin of his belly when she can no longer stand to not feel it.

And then she is overcome by her need to be inside him. She pulls away to kneel at his backside and slides his innocent star-patterned pajama pants over his bottom. He sleeps without underwear, and the hair beneath his cunt is damp. She presses her fingers against his folds and they come away wet and she hopes he is dreaming of her.

She brings her member to this part of him and ruts herself against him in a ploy for entrance and her vision dims at the edges and she grows hazy and violent in need.

She bends her cool, sweaty middle over his curled back and the strip of skin on her belly and chest that touch him are instantly hot. She rubs her chin and her soft lower lip over his shoulder and kisses with an open mouth. She tastes his pine deodorant, his dryer sheets and fabric softener, his dinner of gummy bears and booze.

Her teeth graze his skin then grasp for leverage. A whine pours from Toki’s lips as she eases her cock into his impossible tightness. Her hand wanders his backside, slides across to his stomach, gropes his firm chest and presses into the thick muscle of his bicep.

She moans and it vibrates through her lips to Toki’s skin and she parts her jaw to let go of what she’s holding between her teeth so she can instead mouth at his shoulder and the side of his neck and taste the salt of his sweat. She rocks her hips slow, buries herself further within at the apex of each thrust, searches for comfort deeper and deeper inside him.

“Skwis…gaar…?”

She answers by grabbing the meat of his stomach, the points of her manicured nails pressing into the handful she has claimed, and pulling him against her. She slips out and gets up on her knees for leverage and balances her cock between her thumb and the crook of her forefinger and pushes her other hand hard against the inside of his thigh to expose his leaking hole.

She guides the tip of her penis in him with her hand then grabs his side again and shoves her hips and his whole body shudders and he lets out a frightened shout of pleasure.

Toki looks back at her with his bleary eyes and sees terrible, painful lust screwed up in her expression and fear curls in his gut right next to the arousal shooting through his nerves and he is aware only of the stiffness of his cock when she makes him put his knee to his chest and starts to rub her hand above the place where they are joined.

She fucks him like this for a while, drawing little grunts and whimpers out of him, and watches his jaw go slack and his eyes roll back when the rhythm lolls him back to exhaustion.

“You want to go back to sleep? Keep dreaming about me inside you?” She coos, and he nods and lets her slip a pill between his lips and closes his eyes and feels her relentlessly within him, caressing his softest parts.

He begins to bruise from within like a ripe plum pressed on all sides. A whimper slips out and he’s shushed, told that he’s alright, that she will take care of him.

Toki opens his eyes and he sees pink like bubblegum and lemonade yellow and cherry watermelon red like melting popsicles by the pool and he sees sweet kool-aid blood coating the soft shapes of Skwisgaar’s breasts.

His head is so very light and his skin so very detachedly numb. He feels only pressure, intrusion, Skwisgaar’s fingers dutifully teasing him apart. He looks down and sees her parting the stringy muscles of his belly and tugging the soft curls of his intestines so they spill down and pour out in red and wet and shiny.

He sees the blood that has dried on his skin, the new blood that replaces it, the blood that mats his hair and sticks to his pale inner thighs and stains Skwisgaar’s frowning lips.

She brings her palm down the mass of wriggling intestines, to the mound of his cunt. Her fingers are soaked with blood and spit and he sees that it’s on her cock, too, like she’s been unable to hold back from touching herself with his fluids. She tugs his t-dick and this he does feel, and he finds himself satisfied when she gives in and grabs her own arousal and taps a rhythm with her hips into her hand. It sounds like chugging chords and skin against skin in the shower and the hushed furtivity of intimacy.

“What’d…?” he manages to croak, his lips heavy and numb like he’s drunk. He wants to move his body, but it is locked into its slumped-back sitting position against the head of Skwisgaar’s bed. He wonders absently if she carried him here.

All the white in the room is drowned by the scarlet glare of blood. It soaks the mattress and spills across the floor and marks Skwisgaar’s path in handprints.

She presses her finger against his lips and slips it between them, against the front of his teeth, into the pocket of his cheek. He tastes iron. He works his jaw open enough that she can rub her fingers over his tongue. Pink drool bubbles at the corner of his mouth and weeps down his chin.

“I want you all over,” Skwisgaar breathes. She is panting, her other hand palming her cock once more. Her voice is strained quiet in desperation. He sees a heavy bead of precum on the tip, shining like a pearl against muddy dried brown blood. She pulls her index finger from his mouth and slides the wet pad of it to pick up that little gem and she rubs it on Toki’s lips and pushes it into his mouth and makes him taste her need.

More precum pours from her, and she swipes it on her fingers and this time, presses them against his pulsing cunt.

“No- ‘m gonna get pregnant,” Toki whimpers. It brings a foxy grin to Skwisgaar’s face.

“No you won’t, I promise,” she says, sinister and wanton. She pushes two fingers into him and feels up the walls of his inside, their wet and squishy texture, their velveteen vulnerability, their gentle give as she pokes the sharp crescents of her nails into them.

Her other hand plunges within him and he watches numbly as she caresses a heavy, gray loop of intestine. It drips with sticky fluid and she brings it to her lips like rope and kisses it with the gentleness of butterfly wings. She reaches in him again, and touches the rounded shapes of his organs and strokes the soiled bone of his rib cage. Toki whines with fear as her other hand joins inside him and she parts his malleable guts and holds them with serious firmness.

The bed beneath him is soaked wet with blood, and he feels it against the backs of his thighs, growing wetter and wetter as arousal drips from him.

Skwisgaar grasps some small, handful-sized thing in his core, and he is awash with the dull soreness of something heavy inside him, of a more pressing ache than the one Skwisgaar’s cock brings him.

“Here, look.”

He obeys and watches as Skwisgaar coaxes a bloody little bundle forth. It sits low in his abdomen, inches beneath the spot his belly button usually was. He pulses and cramps within as she rubs it with her firm palms.

And then she pulls away and he’s panting and his big eyes are begging for her to come back. She does, and she grasps his face and pushes clot-caked thumbs in his mouth and pulls at his jaw, then grabs a big knife and presses it to his lips in a prolonged kiss and he can taste that it has just been sharpened.

She dives back within him and grasps the wet, gray bundle of misshapen flesh that is his uterus, and slices it with her knife. She pulls out a hand that is hot with blood and lifts his hip to access his cunt and pushes into him, gripping the slippery organ in her fist like a bulging peeled tomato as she thrusts. From inside the dark, bloody cavity of his midsection, she sees the pink head of her cock breach the hole where his cervix used to be.

This is how she ought to be inside him, touching the core of his beauty. She watches like the observer of fine art as her penis crowns from within his stretched, tortured tissue, coated in stringy viscera and clotting blood like bullets pulled from bodies.

“Fuck, baby,” she whines. Toki groans back and she grabs his stubbled chin and her fingertips stick to the rough skin there and she makes his glassy eyes meet hers though they do not want to. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

She gives little warning but there is nothing Toki can do anyway. Her voice breaks and she moans like her heart has been torn from her. Semen pours out from her and spills across the hollow within of Toki’s ribs and the carnival walls that hold his disembodied guts. It fills that little abused ring of flesh and she continues to nudge it with her cock

Skwisgaar sighs in completion and slips out from him and pulls Toki to her, her hips aligning with the top seam of his opened belly, her softening penis nudging against the wet, inside-out skin there.

She sets his uterus down before him, the slimy little organ grazing his still-hard t-dick.

Toki is fading quickly from consciousness. Skwisgaar cradles his face in blood-soaked hands and watches his gummy lips try to make words which only come as fearful whimpers. She will close him up, have him stitched shut now that he’s been fixed, but that will come later.

For now, her reward is the desperation in his wide eyes, then the gentle turn towards acceptance, then the roll of his pinprick pupils back beneath his soft eyelashes and the bare whiteness of his sclera before his eyelids slide shut, releasing a clean little tear which rolls down and collects the blood on his cheek and drops to the ground, deep red.