CasuallyDecomposing



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    You have been working as a slave since the demise of your people and destruction of your planet. A stranger passes through your life and you make a bid for freedom, thwarted by the very man who inspired you to reach for it. In a twist of fate, the two of you are thrown together and must learn how to live with each other as the lines between slave and master begin to blur. Can you really tell the difference between duty and devotion?

    This is an explicit story with violent and sexual themes, not intended to be read by young people or people who have issues with these themes and scenes.

    This story does not adhere tightly to canon, though I've tried to do enough research where it matters to keep things relatively consistent. I'm certain I will make mistakes in places; I'm a fan and not an expert. The story will start with angst and anticipation and the smut will follow.

    I don't own any of the characters from this canon but this work is my own and I do not give permission for this story to be copied, reposted, or translated.

     

    Link to my Tumblr

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    03 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 28

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    Letters, codes, word of mouth—carrying information is your specialty. The Slenderwoods are vast and diverse, so an impartial messenger is necessary to keep the peace. Your job is easy, your tasks are simple, and being nosy has its perks. But when one resident has an affinity for buying you drinks and keeping you company, you find it very hard to stay impartial after all.

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    29 Jun 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Holy freaked out

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    You hate Toby Rogers. Hate. He’s immature, and whiny, and gets in your way more often than not. Proxies are meant to work together, but you two just don’t. Fights are prone to happen, but when your hands accidentally find his throat, Toby accidentally finds out that he likes it. You hate him. And he hates you. So why can he suddenly not jerk off without thinking about your hands on his neck? Why does he want you to do it again??

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    15 Jun 2026

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    Slender’s gone, the mansion is empty, and everyone has pent up rage they need to let out through illegal substances. And what better way to settle a squabble than through a good old-fashioned party game?

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    14 Jun 2026

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    He keeps his claws fixed against the scruff of your neck. Forcing you down, bowed on your knees with your face tucked tight against his massive thigh, breathing in the stale scent of him. Even through the foreignness of it—the sharp burn of oxidising iron, rusted metal, and old, rotting blood—he smells good. Intoxicating. It makes you dizzy. Makes you greedy. For something. Survival, maybe. That instinctual drive, self-preservation, needling in your hindbrain to keep you alive.
    Despite your reticence, you angle your chin up, glaring at this creature, this beast. This Cimmerian god of old. Stygian king in his throne of bones, his pretty pet, his plaything, supplicant by his side.
    You won't ever submit. Ever.

     

    in this tangled game of captive and keeper—pretty pet, little plaything, to a being beyond your understanding—you realise that your submission, your surrender, is what he’s after. but what does submission even mean when he keeps you nestled in his bed of furs, collared by his hand. nothing, you suppose.
    but when he fails to turn from a hunt, you find yourself caught between a pit and a pendulum.

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    10 Jun 2026