NovelAI Scenario: Ruining Ranni

Description

Anon makes tender love to Ranni the Witch.

Tags

necrophilia, try finger but hole, likely lovable sort, fia approved, deathbed companion, liar ahead, beware of fire, shitpost, smut, necro, don't give up skeleton!

Prompt

A thrill of anticipation ran through my body at the thought of what was to come. She was sprawled out before me, in all her dark beauty: Ranni, the Witch that had stolen death and my heart alike. From the moment I'd met her, she had found a place deep in my soul, and made herself comfortable. My fondness for her has turned to longing, and then to lust, and now? Now I needed her, she had become as vital to me as the water I drank or the air I breathed, something I could not live without. My fingers trembled at the thought of touching her body, the thought of wrapping my arms about her. Still, I took a step forwards, reaching tentatively for her. She said nothing, but I knew her well enough by now to know she would never invite me to hold her. Her silence was invitation enough, and it was all the consent I needed. My heart thudding in my chest like a drum, I took another step forwards, and allowed my hand to rest on her forearm, caressing her smooth, brittle skin with care. She felt fragile, as if she might shatter beneath my fingers were I too rough with her—and indeed, the crisped, blackened skin of her arm flaked away at my touch, crumbling to ash between my fingertips. Seized by a sudden urgency, I took hold of her arm and rolled her scorched body over until she lay on her back, sending up a cloud of noxious ash in the process. Her burnt, blacked body creaked like an old door in protest, but I paid the sound no heed. I needed her, needed to be with her—even if it was only with this cold, empty vessel, long since cast aside and left atop this lonely tower. The smell was overwhelming: she smelt like singed hair, ash, and rotting meat. What little tatters of her dress still remained had melted into her scorched skin until the two had become one, inseparably seared together. Her skirt and skin alike tore and ripped as I spread her legs and took up position between them, my pants no longer able to contain my need for her. With a thrust of my hips, I drove myself home, sliding my shaft deep into her blackened and burnt womanhood.... [Click to expand]

A thrill of anticipation ran through my body at the thought of what was to come. She was sprawled out before me, in all her dark beauty: Ranni, the Witch that had stolen death and my heart alike. From the moment I'd met her, she had found a place deep in my soul, and made herself comfortable. My fondness for her has turned to longing, and then to lust, and now? Now I needed her, she had become as vital to me as the water I drank or the air I breathed, something I could not live without. My fingers trembled at the thought of touching her body, the thought of wrapping my arms about her. Still, I took a step forwards, reaching tentatively for her.

She said nothing, but I knew her well enough by now to know she would never invite me to hold her. Her silence was invitation enough, and it was all the consent I needed. My heart thudding in my chest like a drum, I took another step forwards, and allowed my hand to rest on her forearm, caressing her smooth, brittle skin with care. She felt fragile, as if she might shatter beneath my fingers were I too rough with her—and indeed, the crisped, blackened skin of her arm flaked away at my touch, crumbling to ash between my fingertips.

Seized by a sudden urgency, I took hold of her arm and rolled her scorched body over until she lay on her back, sending up a cloud of noxious ash in the process. Her burnt, blacked body creaked like an old door in protest, but I paid the sound no heed. I needed her, needed to be with her—even if it was only with this cold, empty vessel, long since cast aside and left atop this lonely tower.

The smell was overwhelming: she smelt like singed hair, ash, and rotting meat. What little tatters of her dress still remained had melted into her scorched skin until the two had become one, inseparably seared together. Her skirt and skin alike tore and ripped as I spread her legs and took up position between them, my pants no longer able to contain my need for her.

With a thrust of my hips, I drove myself home, sliding my shaft deep into her blackened and burnt womanhood.

Author Notes

I was atop a lonely spire with the burnt corpse of Ranni, the Witch. I was making love to Ranni's lifeless, ashen corpse.

Ranni was a cold, burnt corpse of a woman. Ranni was long since dead, she was unmoving and silent as the grave.

Ranni was as cold as death, ashen and burnt black. Her crisped skin was brittle to the touch, overcooked.

I loved Ranni, and I dearly wanted to show her my love by fingering her ashen butthole.

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