Isekai'd, My Posterior!
Sleep. It was a funny term to dub continuous unconsciousness. Even funnier to think that being conked out for hours on end was what helped a human's body to repair itself, before the mind thoroughly screwed it to its breaking point yet again.
But what was the funniest thing to mention, was that undead could sleep.
It was a fascination, an oddity looked at as intriguing rather than an obtuse confusion. If one were undead, it usually meant they lost function of their arteries and organs, before their skin decayed and their lives were claimed by dark sorcery.
But in William's case, undeath was a gift. To be human in sight, yet an untold vessel of souls in technicality. It was a grand wonder he had spent many of his human years pondering about whilst gulping down Pepsi and fixing the wheels on his skateboard.
One of the most curious questions had been the facet of siesta, the infamous forty winks', the peaceful trek through the mind's abyss.
Questions like: how did undead sleep if they could never grow properly tired? What need did dreaming even avail them when their energy was repurposed via bonfires and soulmass'? Could an undead even fall into slumber when the Lordrian sun was forever turned to hang at Golden Hour due to one loveable trap?
William re-discussed this, and much more about the curiosities of undead life – or und-life for short – as he rested his head on the comfortable clouds of the dreamworld, and sighed out his frustrations into the void of rest.
Or he would have, if the sensation of a pounding headache didn't interrupt him from dreaming of a needy Priscilla in heat. That reminded him, did dragon's even have a mating season? Wait, of course they did. Every animal possessed a selected period of time to screw like rabbits… except rabbits and humans. They just popped them out as they busted a nut or ovar-
Oooh. His head felt like a blender chopping stones with rusty blades. Why did it have to hurt so much? He swore, this was worse than he time he had swallowed contaminated sake that had been left open in the sun for too long.
Wasn't the point of unconsciousness to nullify physical pain in the first place? If so, why did he feel like someone had slammed his head in a tumble-dryer filled with barbed wire? And it was rhythmical. Seriously, it was as if someone was playing 'do-ray-me' on his bloody forehead. He could even follow the tempo.
Knock-knock-knock, knock-knock-knock, knock-KNOCK!
William groaned out and readjusted his head on the fluffy cloud under his head to gain some comfort.
…
…
Ah, well it seemed like the rave party had died dow-
Knock-knock-KNOCK! KNOCK! Knock-knock, KNOCK-KNOCK!
Lucy Lickerbell's! It was like someone was thumping him over the head with a bloody walking stick!
"Wait a goddamn minute…" William frowned in his un-awake state. "Where the hell am I ayway?"
And like the fading wisps of a battle in the pantheon, William found himself exiting the Dream Nail.
"Uhhh…"
Not for the first time, William found himself squinting his eyes and rubbing his tender noggin in yet another familiar room with familiar people in it.
"Dammit woman," he growled as Quelana retracted her staff from his head in mock-innocence. "it's like you want me to become a mindless dolt upstairs."
The Milf made an intrigued face. "More so than you already are?"
William tried to scoff but the lack of lubrication in his throat made it sound like a rasp.
"Keep it up. Let's see who ends your eternal virginity if I end up stupid."
The woman in front of him flushed a healthy shade of red. He was about to smirk in triumph when a tender hold led his hand away from his head.
"Look who's awake," a throaty, seductive and yet fairly beastly voice spoke above him.
"Quelaag?" the undead croaked before grumbling. What was up with his mouth? Had he munched on sand whilst curled up pathetically in the fetal position again?
"Oh, so the hero remembers me." The redhead chuckled, running her slender digits through his hair. The undead sighed in pleasure when she paid special attention to the red marks on his forehead. She smiled at his pleased face before giving her elder sister a smug look.
"I told you a gentler touch would be the perfect way to wake him."
Quelana scoffed in reply, opting to turn around and face the stairway leading out of the sanctuary. "Just because you're a size bigger than me doesn't mean a thing."
"Oh, on the contrary." Quelaag grinned, wrapping her arms around William's head and pulling him back so that his skull was sandwiched by a pair of wonderful cushions. "I think it means I win."
The Thief's dark eyes widened in disbelief as he was sucked deeper into the boob-0-sphere. So that's what the clouds from his dream were made of! Thank whichever dickless idiot had brought him here. He had found the promised land after all. His Isekai life was finally living up to expectation!
"Win at what, exactly?!" Quelana's shriek only made the Chaos Witch's grin broaden as she reveled in William's quiet moan.
"I trust you know. And by the way…" her elder sister paid her one last glance. "Size does matter. In this instance, at least."
William saw the Milf fume in anger before stomping up the stairs and out of sight, the sound of mumbled curses retreating with her. Quelaag chuckled and looked down at the undead halfway to full mast before reluctantly pushing him off of her chest to stand on his feet.
"Glad to see you kept your promise." She remarked and folded her arms.
"Was there any doubt I wouldn't?" William sighed as he stretched his arms above his head.
"Hmm," she perched her chin on her index finger and thumb, "a significant amount if Quelana is to be considered. Then again, she was never one to keep her cool when the lives of her loved ones were placed into question."
"She's a worse procrastinator than Oscar." The undead groaned and limped to the bonfire across from them. The Chaos Witch followed close behind him, as he entered Quelaan's space to see him receive a warm hug from a standing Eingyi, before he plopped down next to a snoozing pair of Izalith siblings to bask in the soothing fire of the Ancient Flame. "And the Astorian complains like a bitch."
"You seem awfully fond of insulting your comrade and friend." Quelaag laughed and William waved a hand nonchalantly, filling his Estus flask in the process.
"Just because he's my unfortunate comrade doesn't mean I don't possess any reservations about the guy. If anything, its my right as his friend to affront his image behind his back."
"Oh? Is that how you human's twist the bonds of acquaintanceship?" she asked, eyebrows raised and dark lashes batting.
"Been doing it as long as the Divinity have been lying between their perfect teeth. But I wouldn't assume to comprehend human behavior, being an undead and all." He turned and gave her a wink, smiling widely. The redheaded beauty reacted similarly before their carefree banter was interrupted by the jingle-jangle of Kirk's armor.
William blinked and turned to the knight, who was softly petting a drooling Quelaan over the head as she slept against the far wall. He hadn't even known the Darkwraith was there to begin with. He guessed his skills were legit, or exponentially more overpowered than the game ever gave him credit for.
A pregnant silence settled over the two as defecting Chosen Undead stared at defecting Darkwraith Commander. They were almost the same when you got down to it. Two undead, chosen for Light and Dark. One chose to abandon the dark to live in twilight, whilst the other abandoned the light to do whatever the hell he wanted.
The only main difference was their combat abilities; and the fact that Kirk possessed the sickest gear in the Dark Souls Universe next to Black Knights, Fallen Knights, Wolf Knights and Big Daddy Nameless.
And so, William did the suavest thing any smooth undead without an inferiority complex would do to someone equally as dope in person. He flicked his head up in greeting before uttering a word so deep, it shook the bowls of Heavenly diction.
"Sup."
Kirk stared at him for a total of fifteen agonizing seconds before he decided to save William from looking like a complete idiot.
"Salute."
And just like that, William had been promoted to the Big Boys' Corner.
"I see you've even managed to win over Quelaan's Thorned protector." Quelaag hummed pleasantly as William stood and climbed up the side of her steed to sit behind her; and hug her fair figure to his chest. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, a sly glint in those decadent red eyes of hers.
"Just what did you do to earn the respect of such a miser?" she asked with a grin.
"He killed the tree." Kirk's confusingly half-monotone voice drawled out, making the smirk fall off her face and her slitted orbs sharpen as she whipped her head around – only for William to place his palm in front of her as a brilliant flame burst to life before her eyes.
"Yep. She dead." The Thief nodded sagely before resting his forehead against her soft shoulder.
"Bu- how did you…?" Quelaag sputtered incoherently.
"Don't ask. I really don't want to explain what it was like fighting a hairy mass of pube-lice." Despite the fact that he had literally done nothing but watch the Gravelord probably peck Quemera's pearl to pieces, profillerating…ly. He was running out of things that started with P.
Nito had been a clever bastard by pinning the Witch of Izalith's demise on him. Now people would look at his completely unassuming persona of witticisms and bullshit and think that he was Chosen Undead material.
Ha! Nice try, Bone Daddy but he had a reversal Uno card up his sleeve, called outright lies, that could still turn the skeleton's careful planning onto its terrible hump-back.
Still though, the fact that Nito had made him look badass was quite sweet. It would dissuade any potential murderers after his soul and ensure he reaped his rewards of enough poon to break his dart gun. All in all, he wasn't going to waste this opportunity. The only reason he wasn't quite so vocal was because his head was still a romping pair of hippopotamuses on the inside, and his throat was as scratchy as a millipedes thousand legs.
He closed his hand and returned it against Quelaag's wide and warm hips as she stared at him dumbly – most likely never expecting someone as lackluster as him to ever do anything that extraordinary.
William allowed a small smile to lift his tired features. Nito had placed him in a really good light, he couldn't lie. He would need to thank the Gravelord when next he placed his invisible dildo's into William's terrified mindscape.
"Anyways, I gotta run." He said suddenly and gave the redhead a good squeeze around the waist before hopping off and popping the stiffness in his spine. He would need to keep the sensation of Quelaag's loving softness in mind for a long time before he reached another honey he could serenade into giving him a lap pillow.
"What? Why so soon?" the Chaos Witch stammered and followed close behind him as he neared the stairway – her gorgeous face a mask of worry, which was quite the sight coming from a Tsundere with a heavy sister complex.
"Oscar's waitin' on me, sweet cheeks. And I need to clear the dryness in my mouth with some hearty drops from the sun. Unless you're keeping a bottle of ale in one of these egg sacks on the wall, I'm afraid I can't stay any longer – I am the comrade of the Chosen Undead, ya' know?"
William cringed at the conclusion of that sentence. Perhaps Nito was right, calling Oscar of all people the savor of the world when he was little more than simp for clergy was pretty painful to admit. He hoped he would be able to better carve his idiot companion into the shining example of the Undead of Legend soon. Otherwise they were better off leaving this shit to some other asshat that openly refused to speak when spoken to.
"If that's the case, then wait a moment." Quelaag caught his arm and he sighed. He wanted to stay. He really, really, really, really wanted to stay. The Chaos Witch and the Milf were two characters of the Dark Souls Universe he had been crushing on from the moment he had downloaded a cracked copy of the game for free on an illegal torrent site.
And although a certain crossbreed, a DIY Witch and one sexy Lord's Blade were still to come, he could easily just drop everything and agree to help the Daughter's of Chaos make Lost Izalith anew like lusty rabbits munching on discarded Viagra pills. However, as much as his loins desperately screamed for the spoils of war he oh-so-definitely deserved… they had a world to save. And he hated himself for even agreeing to act like a cuck-holding hero from a shitty RPG setting.
Oh wait. That was because he was a hero from a shitty RPG setting. Bloody hell.
Oscar better appreciate everything he did for him in the name of not wanting this world full of decadent deva's to self-destruct.
"Sorry hot stuff, but as much as I want to fondle those badonk-a-donk's of yours, I need to get back to-mmph!"
The feeling of Quelaag's lips on his own were a familiar thing, yet exponentially different. For one, she had been the first woman to kiss him because she felt a real attraction to him – instead of a crazed obsession that came with homicidal tendencies from the two other girls he had ever smooched (without his consent, of course).
The second thing William experienced was the rate of time and motion slowing down. Although, rather than the world growing to a halt, like in some remake of The Flash, William felt as if only the space between himself and the Chaos Witch slow to a crawl. Furthermore, a slight but great prickling of pleasure and heat seemed to be transferred from the redhead into him. It was extremely pleasant. So much so that he couldn't stop her when she grabbed his right hand and placed it against her luscious mound of flesh.
The feeling in his fingers sparked with electricity for a second, and when he tentatively increased the pressure on the orb, the vibration of Quelaag's moan seemed to invigorate his being and force his heart to pound painfully in his chest.
Without realizing it, his other hand cupped her porcelain cheek as he kissed her back. She didn't turn away from how inexperienced his lip-work seemed to appear; nor did she laugh at him like some chastising cheerleader those high school dramas were fond of. Instead, she seemed to grow more excited from his reciprocation – inhaling sharply as he molded his lips against hers.
Surprisingly, his lips weren't chapped, but smooth like cream against her crimson cushions. He assumed it was due to being undead. How nice, he mused, gently squeezing her bosom against his palm and swallowing her hot mewls.
She wasn't blistering hot in his hands, rather just extremely warm. He found that he liked extremely warm. He liked it very much.
It wasn't long until her tongue found its way into his mouth. She was a dominant lover, he knew that from the moment he met her. And although that facet clashed with his own sense of dominion in a relationship, he didn't feel like challenging her.
She made loud sounds and voiced her pleasure as she Frenched him. He supposed redhead's were just really into vocalizing how appreciative they were. Even so, he found his mind being lost in a void of numbness as his mouth was ravished by hers. It just felt so lovely to him that he couldn't speak – for once in his talkative life.
Her hands were the last straw for him. They crept up like snakes and clutched his body to hers as if he were her life-support. The sensation was astoundingly wondrous, and he remained fixated on showing her how much he enjoyed being wanted this badly. Her eyes opened wide when his finger tangled in her hair, blunt nails scratching against her scalp and right hand kneading the globule of dough in its palm like an expert baker.
William lost his breath as his face withdrew from hers, his eyes caught by her crimson glare only for his teeth to click against hers as their lip-lock became that much more heated. He was confused, perplexed, and quite thoroughly aroused. How had be managed to tease this woman nonstop with a straight face and not be the one hungry to sample what half-demon tasted like?
If his throat had been parched a few minutes ago, it was overly saturated now. Honestly, with the way Quelaag seemed to enjoy tongue wrestling, it was a shock he hadn't drowned from their shared saliva by now.
Her hands retreated from his body to rest on his shoulders. He knew that signified the end of the fabulous fireworks they were making, yet he didn't feel the need to force her to continue. It was almost as if her mouth had calmed down his entire existence.
Sooner than expected, her mouth detached from his, a thick trail of spit connecting their mouths to one another as they breathed out heavily. William's cheeks were sufficiently flushed. So was Quelaag's for that matter. Even so, he couldn't help but admire the way she wanted to look away from him with the sudden influx of shyness appearing in her slitted eyes.
"That… was to say thank you." She whispered softly, her gaze flicking away from him as she tucked a strand of fair behind her ear. The undead responded by clearing his throat and rearranging his ruffled locks. That had been one hell of a thank you.
"Hopefully, we can try that again when you return."
William snapped his gaze up and she turned her head away from his before her arachnid-half waltzed off casually without uttering so much as a grunt. The Thief watched her duck into the area that held Quelaan's bonfire before she and her glorious Spidery-ness vanished from sight.
"How amusing. The Thief can change colors."
William froze and turned his head to see Kirk chilling against the side of a fallen pillar – his pale face flushing an even deeper shade of red.
"Ugh- Well I… you know. Ah. Erm… Sh-Shut up." He replied intelligently and walked up the stairway.
The Knight of Thorns was silent, save for the quaint smile resting beneath his ominous helm.
"Salute."
The undead found adequate time to rest his rapidly beating heart as he stood under the Bell of Awakening. That make-out session had not been something he anticipated. And though he had most certainly enjoyed it to it's fullest, the fact that Kirk of all people had been watching the entire time was actually quite embarrassing.
In hindsight, he was giddy that Quelaag wanted to do that with him again. He knew he loved Sider Waifu's for a reason.
"William?" Quelana's unusually soft voice – at least when it was pointed at him – rang out behind him and he turned. The Milf looked no different from the last time he had seen her. The resent she kept especially for him was gone, and in place of it resided a curiousness… at least until she looked down, flushed red, squealed and covered her face with her dainty fingers.
"Wh-Wh-Why are you p-pointing that thing at me?!"
"What thing?" William frowned and looked down only to see his Johnson looking right back at him within his leather tights. "Oh, that thing. Sorry, I didn't know it was still up."
"How can you not know when it's still up?!"
"Well, when a thankful Quelaag shoves her tongue down your throat and you cup one of the greatest melons in the world, you're bound to miss a few things!"
"Quelaag kissed you?!" Quelana screamed.
"And what's wrong with her kissing me? I'd think I'm a pretty handsome bastard, all things considered."
"Oh, for Gwyn's sake. That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean, exactly?!"
"That I wanted to kiss you!" she bellowed, red-faced and utterly embarrassed to reveal something so personal.
"Oh." The undead said softly, only to receive a punch to the arm at his insensitive reply. "Sorry, it's just been a long day. Wait, is it even daytime outside?"
Quelana sighed out with a silly smile on her face. What had she expected? William was just that unbelievable.
"I heard Kirk say that you brought peace to Mother." She said after a while, hands nervously fidgeting in front of her.
"Unfortunately, she didn't bring any peace to me when she went bang. I still can't stop the ringing in my right ear." The Thief said, rubbing his head. The eldest Daughter of Chaos merely chuckled in reply, forcing a smile on his otherwise unbearable visage.
He was going to ask her if she would reward him like her sinfully deviant younger sister, but Quelana's weak slap to his cheek stopped him. He looked down at her curiously, and before he knew what was happening, he found her pressed against him – her arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.
"You made me worry." She said, voice trembling slightly. He slowly hugged her waist before answering.
"You should know I'm too stubborn to go hollow. I still have to examine your Milf-ness, remember? No way I'm believing that your still a millennium-old virgin."
"You really are the worst," she laughed through the tears slowly soaking into his chest. It felt surreal being held like this. He had never had a person care for him so deeply like this, and not even his own family had shown much worry for his wellbeing before.
Even so, being embraced as if he would disappear was… strangely satisfying. Like he finally gained an iota of what that typical sprouting of comfort truly felt like. He couldn't argue, it was quite warm – and not because Quelana's well-endowed chest fit comfortably against his lithe torso. This time he honestly meant most of what he said. Receiving a hug from Quemera's firstborn felt cathartic to the pent-up stress he never realized he had.
But then again, Quelana's bulging breasts against his lithe torso also played a part in easing his burdens. Seriously, these Daughter's of Chaos were blessed with bodies of a succubus.
"Thank you." William looked down at the Milf as she finally retreated from his chest, eyes red and cheeks all puffy. "You saved Mother and my siblings. If you weren't so lewdly uncouth, I'd assume that you were the Undead of legend."
"And due to my uncouthness, I reserve the right not to hold a crappy title like that. Besides, Oscar broke his bones to earn it. I don't intend to usurp him, that would require effort."
Quelana rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. "Honestly, you never change."
"I hate responsibility. Being the Chosen Undead would go against everything I stand for in life- well... unlife."
"Well in any case," she giggled and allowed him to wipe the remnants of the tears on her face with the pad of his thumb, "you should get going. Least my time on you be wasted."
William laughed heartily at her statement of salutation. It seemed this real-life version of the game was, for all purposes, still very much the same.
"Later Quelie." He said and withdrew a Homeward Bone from his pouch. The Mother of Pyromancy watched him stroll towards the entrance of Quelaag's Domain before he made an abrupt halt, turned back, clutched his hair and groaned in agitation before snapping the brittle bone in half.
"What's the matter, William?" Quelana called out in worry.
"Homeward Bones!" he screeched as the spell circle wove around his form in record time. "I could have just bloody used one to return to the bonfire instead of bloody walking through Lost Iza-"
WHOOSH
And just like that, William was no longer in Blighttown.
New tears made their way to Quelana's eyes and she cursed herself as she wiped them away in futility. She couldn't believe it. This pang in her heart and aching in her soul. She was actually missing that infuriating undead?
Quelana sighed out.
"Quelaag is so going to make fun of this new development."
"-Lith" William said in turmoil, only to frown when he received no answer in reply. He opened his eyes and saw the lush green moss around Firelink before it finally sunk in.
"Oh, okay then."
Looking around, he did a quick appraisal of his surroundings to see if he had incidentally tripped any flags or prompts the game normally held in the nexus of Lordran.
Seeing the indifferent glassy stare of tall, somber and Crestfallen on the other end of the bonfire circle, however; reaffirmed his suspicions that absolutely nothing had gone wrong. The silver-haired undead sighed in joy. This place hadn't been turned into an utter shit-show just yet. Hurrah.
"William?" the Thief inclined his head toward a voice that sounded suspiciously simpy. "William! It is you." Oscar said like a merry moron on the road to getting a curb-stomp for his infectious stupidity.
"Hello Oscar." He replied and held back the gag fighting to make its way up his throat due to the knight's steaming crotch-sweat. He discreetly plugged his nose as the Astorian slung a heavy gauntlet over his shoulder and led him up a short cluster of stairs. He had been gone for well near four hours. What in God's name had the prick been doing in that time, combing his blonde hair for ticks?
William got his answer once Oscar stopped, nudged him with the sharp part of his armor that made the undead want to slug him in the jaw, and show him the sight of someone he had been just dying to converse with.
"Hello there. I believe we are not acquainted?" said a voice so soaked in religious disdain, murder, and most likely a liking for little boys; that the edges of William's mouth immediately sprung up in excitement.
"Well hello there, you cadaverous cunt…"
Apologies if this doesn't feel as… what's the word, wholesome (if you could call this fic that) …? As the previous chapters. I've been going through some difficult stuff. Give me a short amount of time to beat in that difficultly with a well-used crowbar.
Was the make-out scene too forced? I wasn't paying as much attention to it as I should have. But I hope I made it feel at least a little bit hot.
That said, I hope you're ready for some funny Petrus roasting, 'cause I'm only gonna post that in my next bundle of chapters. Still need to write it out and stuff, ya' know?