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hellishjoel · 2 months ago

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wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

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summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will.

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes.

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow. It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods.

Life guided him up here and he never turned back.

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt.

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys.

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction.

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction.

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight.

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence.

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job.

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go.

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps.

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?”

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps.

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in.

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly.

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you.

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo.

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes.

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew.

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together.

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still.

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.”

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here.

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up.

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side.

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.”

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut.

He settles on the truth.

“We are sleepin’ together.”

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.”

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley.

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him.

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams.

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors.

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning.

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body.

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions.

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine.

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed.

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse.

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles.

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles.

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely.

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind.

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses.

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties.

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor.

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours.

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed.

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.”

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix.

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own.

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center.

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now.

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl.

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders.

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him.

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach.

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you.

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels.

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge.

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him.

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit.

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room.

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock.

“Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on.

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one.

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more.

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish.

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight.

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on.

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute.

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes.

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth.

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump.

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout.

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest.

“G’night, pain in my ass.”

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel tlou

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cozykali · 7 months ago

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Heartbeats (Astarion’s POV)

I downloaded Baldur’s gate 3 and immediately feel for this sexy vampire the moment he tackled me to the ground and held a knife to my neck. I’m in act 2 right now (no spoilers!) and the brainrot is BAD. I’ve read some amazing period sex fics involving Astarion but I wanted to craft one from his perspective. Let me know your thoughts!

Master list can be found here!

Pairing: Astarion x fem Tav/reader

Rating: SMUT! NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI

Words: 4700

TW: (this fic is FLITHY), mentions of death and dying, biting (duh), drinking blood, period sex, blood kink, oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, kissing, fingers, stalking, multiple Os, passing out, blood-loss, mentions of past torture/trauma, tension, begging, fluffy ending, ‘who did this to you?’,

Notes: Tav and Astarion have been travelling together for a few weeks. No romance scenes have happened yet, but she allows him to feed on her nearly every night. She hasn’t seen his scars yet. Tav is on her period and it’s making her vampire friend go crazy. Tav has feelings for Astarion but hasn’t acted upon them. This story is told from Astarion’s perspective. Tav can be any race or class you want (probably not durge though).

Bonus: Check out this massive playlist I made inspired by Astarion!

The fading fire crackled softly; its once licking flames now reduced to gentle, glowing embers. A thin line of smoke ascends into the damp air that coats the earth in a delicate layer of cool dew.

Astarion lies beside the fire on his bedroll, flat on his back, with his arms slightly splayed at his sides. Most nights, he is grateful that he doesn’t need sleep like his companions do. He can immerse himself in the peaceful sounds of the night, meditate, slow his breath, and calm his mind without slipping into unconsciousness. This ability had saved his life on more than one occasion.

However, tonight is different. Tonight, he wishes for sleep to claim him. He longs to drift away and escape the torment of the spell unknowingly cast upon him by Tav. He turns his head to gaze through the soft light of the fire in her direction.

Tav is laying on her side facing the fire, her mouth slightly open as she emits soft snores barely audible over the crackling flames. But what troubles Astarion tonight is her scent. It wafts through the acrid smoke of the fire like a gentle breeze through a sail, sweet as usual, but it’s currently mixed with blood and musk.

Astarion has been avoiding Tav for the better part of two days now. Whenever she drew near, he held his breath and averted his gaze. He knew he must keep his distance from her, because the alternative would be ripping her apart, which would not win any favors with the rest of the party.

Tav has also been careful around him. She must know that he can sense her menses. Despite inviting him to feed on her each night for nearly two weeks, tonight she did not proposition him, nor the night before. Last night, his attempt to catch a deer had been futile, leaving Tav as his last meal.

Lying on his bedroll, Astarion stares up at the stars, after a seemingly endless eternity for an immortal being, he hears Tav stir slightly. He glances over at her curiously, hoping she doesn’t notice his gaze. She lets out a quiet groan, clutching her lower stomach before curling into a fetal position, her face contorted in pain. Moments later, she slowly starts to rise.

Tav stumbles to fetch a flask of water, guzzling it down greedily. Astarion envies her ease in quenching her thirst while his own thirst rages inside him. Before long, he senses her absence, her scent growing fainter. He debates whether to leave her to sort herself out, but the primal urge to hunt and stalk his prey cannot be ignored.

Rising slowly, Astarion follows her scent through the trees to a nearby stream. His movements are fluid and silent as he approaches her. Tav is kneeling in front of the water, wringing out a blood-soaked cloth.

"Seems such a waste to wash that delicious blood away, darling," Astarion's voice, silky and smooth as velvet, slices through the night like a dagger. Tav lets out a startled squeal, spinning to face him.

"Astarion!" Her voice cracks with surprise as she stumbles back, but his hand shoots out to steady her, his touch cool against the small of her back as he prevents her from falling into the rocky stream.

His gaze is locked onto Tav's eyes, wide with astonishment, her pupils are dilated so only faint rings of color remain around dark voids. With his keen elven senses, he can hear the rapid thrum of her heart beneath her chest. Releasing her gently, Astarion steps back, his posture graceful and poised.

"Sorry, my dear," he says, softening his tone to one less intimidating. "I was merely ensuring no creatures were stalking you in the night as you wandered off. There are far worse dangers in these woods than bears, you know?"

"You mean like you?" Tav's words are sharp, but Astarion detects the faint quiver of her bottom lip.

"I just prevented you from bashing your skull on those wet rocks, and this is the gratitude I receive?" Astarion scoffs.

"I wouldn't have nearly slipped if you hadn't snuck up on me, asshole," Tav retorts, pushing him in the chest, though his feet remain firmly planted.

"Oh, my, you look adorable when you're angry," Astarion can’t help but smirk at her.

Tav lets out a frustrated grunt, attempting to stomp away, but Astarion catches her arm before she can pass him. Confusion clouds her face as she searches for an explanation for his unusual behavior. The facade of his usual sassy indifference had vanished, replaced by a tumult of desire and longing.

"Are you here to bite me?" Tav's voice trembles, strained as if she’s fighting back a scream. "I thought you were better than that. You promised me you wouldn’t feed on me unless I asked you to."

Astarion reaches out and takes the wet cloth from her hand, the hunger gnawing at him like a demon. Shamelessly, he presses it to his face, inhaling deeply. His vision is blurred, his head swimming in the intoxicating scent of her body that lingers on the fabric.

"Astarion, knock it off! You’re freaking me out," Tav snaps, snatching the cloth back and tossing it into the dirt.

"Tav," he whimpers, hating the desperation in his voice. Slowly, he releases her wrist, turning away to pinch his brows in an attempt to ease the splitting headache caused by her overwhelming scent.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" Tav's voice remains cold, but concern flickers in her eyes as she speaks. She feels sorry for him.

Astarion straightens his stance, clearing his throat. "I apologize that I disturbed you. I’m not thinking straight," he announces before turning to walk back to camp.

"Wait," Tav said, and he freezes.

"I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. That I haven’t asked you to bite me the past few nights. I know you must know I’m on my period," she admits, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I didn’t know how you felt about it. I can see now that it’s driving you to madness, but I thought ignoring it was the best course of action. It’s embarrassing, really, and I’m having terrible pains in my stomach."

Astarion closes the distance between them in two swift strides.

"It’s hard to see you like this, so crazed with hunger, and I…" Tav's words falter as Astarion gently places his hand under her chin, lifting her face to meet his.

"Shh, Tav, my sweet. You’re going to put me in a second grave," he murmurs.

To his surprise, Tav presses her face into his with a gentle kiss, and Astarion's eyes close as a deep growl rumbles from his chest.

Tav removes her lips, "I’m sorry that was stupid of me to…" but Astarion wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer, pressing her body against his. He kisses her ravenously. His sharp fangs scrape softly on her bottom lip. A sensation of an unraveling overwhelms Astarion as he kisses Tav. It's a mixture of desire, longing, and perhaps even a hint of vulnerability. This feeling is unfamiliar to him, stirring emotions he's long kept buried beneath his cool exterior.

She relaxes in his arms, sinking deeper into his kiss. Her hand reaches up to ruffle his soft white curls while the other slips under his linen shirt, exploring the ridges and lines of his abdomen.

As they momentarily break their kiss, Astarion feels a rush of dizziness. He gently brushes her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into the curve of her shoulder. His tongue traces the faint marks on her skin, remnants of the nightly feedings he's had days prior. Despite the hunger clawing at him, he restrains himself from indulging further.

His hands, trembling with desire, slide down to the hem of Tav's shirt. He breathes against her ear, his voice a husky whisper, "May I?" Without a word, she responds by lifting her arms, granting him permission. In one smooth motion, he pulls the shirt over her head, revealing her skin. Astarion’s hands cup her breasts. The soft sound she emits as his mouth finds her nipple is music to his ears.

"Please, I need to taste you." He pleas between nibbles and licks on her chest. He no longer feels ashamed by his desperation.

"Oh, Astarion." Tav smiles, "You look so pretty when you beg."

“Gods," he groans, then steps back to remove his shirt before kneeling to the ground in front of her, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight. "Tav," his voice is deep and soft, "I beg you." His hands reach out to grab her waist. "Let me taste you." He rests his forehead softly on her bare stomach. She places her hands on his and slides them down, encouraging him to remove her pants. Astarion is nearly trembling with anticipation as he helps her step out of her garments.

"Hold on," she stops him before he rips off her underwear. The bloodied rag that was freshly changed before he found her, was now soiled again with arousal and blood. "Should we find somewhere more comfortable?" She offers him her hand to help him rise back up.

Astarion feels lightheaded for a moment as he returns to his feet. However, as soon as he regains his balance, he scoops Tav up and carries her with remarkable speed to a clearing near the stream, where the ground is more sand than rocks. He lays Tav down on her back. He crawls towards her slowly, until his thigh is pressed firmly against her sex. As he lowers himself to kiss her once more, he gently hooks his other leg under hers and slides it up slowly, allowing her legs to part for him.

"Astarion?" She whispers to him when their kiss breaks, "You can feed on me tonight if you like."

He doesn’t even recognize the deep, feral growl that escapes his throat in response. "I was so hoping you would say that darling."

Astarion kisses his way down Tav’s stomach. She squirms at the feeling of his fangs brushing lightly on her ribs. He catches the waistband of her undergarments between his teeth and slides them down her legs to remove them.

He stops to hover over Tav for a moment now that she’s fully undressed. He savors the look she’s giving him through hooded eyes. Pausing, he appreciates the beauty of her bare skin splayed before him, relishing her scent before he consumes her.

"You’re too good to me, my pretty thing. I don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve you." Astarion remarks before his head dips between her legs.

Astarion flattens his tongue and licks her once slowly, bottom to top. Tav tastes unbelievable. It still tastes like her blood, metallic and rich, but it’s enhanced with the flavor of her slick arousal, the must of her sweat, the flesh of her womb. If the blood in her veins is his water, his life source, the blood between her legs is like the finest of wines.

The hums and moans that leave Astarion's throat as he devours her are so animalistic, he can hardly hear Tav’s whines. He licks up every drop until she is clean then sticks his tongue deep inside her searching for more. His nose rubs in a side-to-side motion, pressed firmly against her apex, as his tongue explores.

"Oh gods, Astarion!" Tav gasps. He feels a slight sting on his scalp as she grabs a fistful of his silver curls while rocking her hips to match the speed of his tongue.

"I need more," Astarion rasps. His lips close around her bud He slides two slender fingers inside of her and starts pumping them in and out, coaxing out more blood. Her moans fill his ears like a siren’s song, adding to his pleasure. He can feel her insides tightening around his digits.

"Astarion. I…" Tav’s sentence is cut off by a wail of pleasure. He can smell the ecstasy flooding her blood, hear her heart pounding in her chest, and feel her body spasm and quake where he touches her. He doesn’t change the pace of his tongue or hand, dragging out her orgasm until she is panting and spent. He removes his fingers from her to lick them clean like a cat and notices a small trickle of blood leaking out of her.

"You may have just finished, darling, but I am not done yet. Nothing compares to the sound of my name cried from your lips, and I intend to hear it again." Astarion’s face dips back down to clean her folds. The amount of blood he can get from her body is not nearly enough to fill him. He needs to feed soon, a real meal, a pint of blood or more, not just a taste. But it can wait; the taste is too divine to stop.

Astarion hooks his arms under her thighs and flips onto his back, pulling her with him in one smooth motion. He grabs her hips as he forces her to a sitting position on his face, drinking her in. She shrieks and tries to pull away.

"Astarion, I need a minute. It’s too much." He releases his hands and stares up at her face with mid concern while she hovers over him. He tries to imagine how he looks to her right now.

"Can I ask you to be my mirror again, love?" He recalls the evening Tav found him looking at his empty reflection.

She studies him. "Your pretty face is absolutely covered with blood," she states. "Your lips are puffy and swollen. Your skin is thin and pale, paler than usual. Then there are your eyes…" she pauses, "they’re so red right now that they nearly glow in the light of the stars. There is nothing human, or even elf, left in them. They are the eyes of a monster."

Astarion grins wide, displaying his sharp fangs to her, "I am a monster, dear. Now can you please let me get back to consuming my prey?" His tongue extends from his mouth to lap against her swollen sensitive skin.

Tav tilts her head back and moans, exposing the full length of her gorgeous neck. Her back arches as she lowers herself onto his lips. Astarion grumbles in satisfaction when the taste of her dances on his tongue again. He grabs her thighs, in case she decides to pull away again, but instead she lowers onto him more, smothering him. She rocks against him, rubbing herself against his mouth and nose.

His lungs burn slightly, but he doesn’t need to breathe air to survive; it’s just a matter of an unconscious habit from before he turned into a vampire spawn. He needs air in his lungs to be able to speak, and it’s slightly uncomfortable if his lungs go without air for extended periods of time. He represses the memories of torture he had to endure over the centuries, where Cazador would deprive him of air for days just to watch him struggle. Astarion silently scolds himself for focusing on his lungs when his attention should be on the woman on top of him.

Tav bends her back further and places her hand on his waste to steady herself. Her hand brushes against the swollen bulge in his leather pants. His other primal urge is nothing more than an annoyance compared to his crazed lust to feed. But Astarion doesn’t protest when she starts to pet him through his pants as she continues to use his face like a toy. His pants suddenly feel uncomfortably tight.

"Astarion!" His name sounds like a symphony when it exits her body. She collapses forward, cradling his head with her arms. He drinks her in, savoring all his senses. His hands run up and down her bare thighs that seem to burn with heat. She rolls off him and lands in the sandy dirt of the bank, lying flat on her back beside him. They breathe in sync, shallow and hard.

"Tav, I…" Astarion pants, still laying on his back. "I need to feed."

"I know, I told you that you could. It’s not enough, right? Down there I mean. I figured as much. Why didn’t you just go for my neck in the first place? Why starve yourself on tiny mouthfuls when you can just bite me?"

"The taste," he whispers, "It’s addictive. I can’t stop." He swipes a finger between her legs and places the pad of it against his tongue and groans.

"Astarion?" Tav rolls onto her side to gaze into his eyes. She places her hand against the puncture marks on her neck from his fangs. "Bite me."

Astarion rises to his feet. Stars briefly dance across his vision, then fade. He is again reminded of the throbbing of his groin and decides to remove his confining leather pants and exposes himself to her. It seems only fair to be as naked as she is.

Tav’s eyes bulge and her jaw slacks as she stares at him. She props herself up on her elbows and slowly opens her legs to him. The wanting look she gives him is the closest thing he’ll get to a reflection of his own eyes. He waits, tension coiling in his muscles in anticipation as he searches her expression for the words he longs to hear.

"Darling, I am supposed to be the one looking at you like a feast laid before me, but here you are, looking at me like I’m a fresh baked pie. I could practically wipe away your drool." He smirks down at her. His hand lazily strokes his length to tease her.

Tav's lips form the word "Please," her voiceless plea echoing in the quiet night.

"Please what, my pet?" Astarion teases, his voice low and filled with anticipation, as he listens to the rapid rhythm of her heart, quickening like a drumbeat.

"Please. I want you to bite me while you fuck me." Her voice deepens, her eyelids are heavy with lust. Astarion’s stomach flips, and he pounces onto her like a fox catching a mouse.

"Such a filthy little mouth you have." He tuts. While he arranges himself over Tav. It's a familiar position that they have practiced nearly every night since she invited him to feed on her, only this time they are skin to skin. His face lingers over her neck, his breath cools her blazing skin. The tip of his shaft is posed at her entrance. She bucks her hips in response, and he sinks into her partially, then withdrawals.

"You are mine." Astarion whispers into her neck. Pressing his lips to the partially healed wound from his last bite as he enters her again, sinking his entire length into her. Tav cries out in response, but he doesn’t move.

"Astarion, please," She whines. He raises himself onto the palms of his hands to look at her. Her eyes are glossy, tears are forming in the corners.

"Tav, Darling, you look so pretty when you beg." He echoes her earlier words. He wishes he could hold out a little longer to see how far he could tease her until she breaks, but his need to feed is too intense. He starts slowly pumping in and out. Her eyes close and her mouth opens wide in pleasure. She feels amazing, so tight, so soft, so wet with blood and arousal.

Tav places her hands on Astarion’s back and digs her nails in, only to pull away quickly when she feels the bumps of the scars she hasn’t yet seen. She opens her mouth to mention it but he quickly covers it with his blood stained lips. His tongue slips past her lips and moves with the same rhythm of his thrusts. She moans into his mouth as his pace quickens. Then he breaks her kiss to purr into her ear, ‘Do you taste yourself on my lips, beautiful? It’s delicious, isn’t it? You taste divine.’

Tav shivers beneath him and lets out a sob. His lips brush down her neck. Astarion snarls to expose his sharp, elongated canines then grazes them against her throat, ready to strike. His thrusts never stop, slamming into her repeatedly, as he finally sinks his teeth into her neck and sucks her blood.

"Oh fuck, Astarion!" Tav releases a scream and falls apart under him. Shaking and panting while grinding against him. He can taste the electricity of her climax surge through her blood as her heart beats with a steady rhythm, allowing the blood to flow through her veins until it reaches his mouth. Astarion feels a rush stronger than any drug, more enchanting than any spell or potion. Her walls spasm around him, while he slurps against her neck. He sucks her blood with intense force. Pinning her under him. He can’t stop.

After several moments of bliss, he notices she has gone completely still beneath him. It takes all his willpower to unlatch his fangs before he sits up quickly.

"Shit’." A wave of panic washes over Astarion as he inspects Tav. Her skin appears paler, almost gray. Her breaths come slow and shallow, and her heartbeat is faint and stuttering. Without hesitation, he scoops up her limp body and wades into the waist-deep waters of the nearby stream, gently lowering her in. The water feels warm against his skin, though he himself is generally cooler than most creatures. He hopes the temperature doesn’t send her body further into shock.

As he holds her in the water, Astarion's mind races with worst-case scenarios. He imagines having to speak with Withers to revive her, dreading the thought of explaining his actions to the rest of the camp. Tav won’t easily forgive him this time, he fears. He might be cast out or even killed. He curses himself for following her out here in the first place. She was right to avoid him these past few days.

Just as he begins to entertain thoughts of escape, Tav’s soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. "Star?"

Relief floods through him. "Oh, thank the gods, Tav. I’m truly sorry. I got a little carried away." He holds her tighter against his chest, feeling her shiver against him.

"Cold," Tav manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Astarion carries her out of the water and gently sets her down in a patch of soft grass. He hurries to gather their scattered clothes, helping her dress into her pants and shirt. He wraps his own rumpled white shirt around her for extra warmth, then puts on his pants before rinsing the remaining blood from his face in the stream.

Returning to her side, Astarion finds her hugging her legs, the color slowly returning to her face. "Let’s get you back to camp near the fire. I’ll wake Shadowheart to see if she can heal you," he suggests, wrapping his arm around her.

Tav turns to him, her voice airy and soft. "No, I think I'll manage until morning." Astarion kisses her forehead as she embraces him, her hands rubbing slow circles on his back.

"Turn around," Tav demands, and he complies, allowing her to view the intricate scars covering his entire back. She traces them with her fingers. "What happened to you?" Her voice carries a tone of pity, and Astarion swallows a lump in his throat.

"It’s a poem," He explains calmly. "Cazador did it to me. He took his time. I don’t know what it says."

"Oh, Astarion, I’m so sorry," Tav responds with compassion that almost irritates him.

"You’re sorry?" Astarion snaps, turning to face her. "I nearly killed you tonight, and you’re sorry?" He immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. "No, Tav, I’m sorry." Pulling her into him, he collapses to the ground, and she lays her head on his bare chest.

‘Astarion, I…’ Tav starts to speak.

"Hush," he interrupts, holding a finger to her lips. "Listen." He tunes into the sounds of the environment around them—the rustling of tree branches in the breeze, the chirping of insects in the reeds, the rushing of water in the nearby stream. But the sound he wants her to hear isn’t external; it’s coming from within him. After several seconds, she jerks her head up from his chest to meet his eyes.

"Did… did I just hear your heart?" Her voice is filled with astonishment. "You have a heartbeat?" Her brows furrow in confusion as she searches his face for answers. "Is that another side effect of the tadpole? Like how you can walk in the sun?"

Astarion smiles at her. "Yes, you heard my heart beating. No, it’s not from the worm in my head. It’s from you, darling."

"What? How?" Tav’s confusion deepens.

‘Well, when I feed, especially if it’s a big meal, my body must circulate the fresh blood throughout it somehow. And in case you weren’t aware, I’ll give you a little anatomy lesson. I need blood in a certain area of the body to give you a performance like I did back there."

She stares at him in shock "So your heart will kickstart when you're full, or horny?"

"In simple terms, yes dear, and I do feel both of those right now. However, it only beats a couple times a minute, not like a living creature. Have you noticed the color return to my skin, and that my temperature is at least five degrees warmer than usual?"

Tav smiles softly as she lays her head back on his chest in silence, waiting to hear a soft thump again. "I can make your heartbeat," she whispers.

"Well Tav, it seems my heart belongs to you now," Astarion sighs. "I’ve never felt anything like that before. I’m practically drunk on you right now. When I told you were my first bite, I meant it and now I can’t imagine drinking the blood of anyone else. Not like I have many options anyways, no one else is exactly offering me their neck." She smacks him softly, and he lets out a chuckle before his face softens with worry.

"I don’t think it’s safe to do that again, though," He grumbles. "I nearly lost you." Tav looks up at him with sadness in her eyes. "I mean I would happily bed you again," Astarion continues, "and I still wish to feed on you if you allow it, once you're replenished, but I think we should keep dinner and sex separate from now on."

Tav scoots up to kiss his neck. Then rises to her knees and straddles him. Her hair forms a halo around her face as she looks down at him.

"What is Withers there for if we don’t use him once and a while. Plus, we have at least ten revival scrolls in the chest at the camp."

His heart beats again, slightly harder than the last time. "Are you giving me permission to suck you dry? You filthy little pup." His hands grab her rear, and he squeezes. "How did I get so lucky? Getting abducted by mind flayers seems to have been the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"I mean, I've never felt anything like that either. When you were draining me of blood, I let it happen, I didn’t want it to stop. I was in a daze as I slipped away. To be clear, I don’t think the others will approve of paying 200 gold coins to Withers, or wasting revival scrolls that could be used during a fight, every time I come to your bed, but if it happens… I trust you to bring me back. I guess my heart belongs to you now too. Since it pumps the blood through me that keeps you alive and thriving."

Astarion inhales deeply. "Well in that case, darling," his hand reaches up to grab her neck and he pulls her head down so her ear touches his lips "I think you're beating me three-nil in climaxes this evening. And I intend to double your score at the very least, and maybe get a point on the board myself before the sun rises." He glances down and notices a blood stain seeping through her pants onto his. He realizes didn't put her underwear back on nor replace her blood rag when he dressed her earlier. "Also, it looks like you might need a little cleaning up again, my love."

END

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redvexillum · 15 days ago

Text

Well, this was just asking for a companion piece to my other two story C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X, so thank you for that. I dedicate this story to @kewpikayo. Listen, I dedicated yesterday's story to your wife, it only makes sense this story should be dedicated to you - after all, Dew & Kew FOREVER! 💖

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, human!alastor, alastor is dom, reader is sub, pain kink, reader is masochistic, alastor is sadistic, bad BDSM etiquette, no safe word, no after care, blood play, biting, spanking, rough ☆ral s☆x, p in v, c☆m outside, c☆m eating, implied period-typical racism

✨️ Companion piece to C☆CKWARMING and ROUGH S☆X. This story is the origin of where it all started. ✨️

A low, irritated growl simmered in Alastor’s throat as he watched you—Daddy’s sheltered little girl—stumble back, arms flailing as the load you carried slipped from your grip. You landed unceremoniously on the ground, the papers and boxes you’d been carrying spilling around you like fallen leaves. The sight was exasperating, yet all too familiar; he wasn’t sure whether to sigh, sneer, or simply walk away.

Instead, he felt his left eye twitch as he forced his grin wider, an increasingly tight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Each muscle in his face strained against his better judgment, but he bent down, begrudgingly extending a hand to help you up.

And there it was: the way your cheeks bloomed crimson as you looked up at him, hesitantly taking his hand as if touching him was some kind of privilege.

Under normal circumstances, he would have thrived on this—the adoration, the bashful flush, the clear admiration in your eyes that so many others had shown him. The mere idea of having another fan should’ve filled him with smug satisfaction. But not this time.

No, there was one pesky fact that dulled the thrill.

From the beginning, breaking into the radio world had been an uphill battle. The station was his dream, and to make it a reality, he’d had to secure an investor. But with his humble roots, Alastor had needed more than a charming smile; he needed money, power, and someone with influence willing to back a stranger like him. And so he’d found himself entangled with a wealthy patron—a man who agreed to fund him… under one condition.

He had to hire you.

You.

His patron’s clumsy, insipid little daughter, the perpetual thorn in his side. Each time he thought he’d seen every mistake a person could make, you’d invent a new one, blundering through tasks with astonishing incompetence. His nerves frayed more with every passing day as he forced himself to breathe, to smile, to tell you gently that "everyone makes mistakes." The words tasted like rot in his mouth.

Alastor considered himself a patient man. A forgiving man. But everyone has their limits.

And you, quite simply, were his.

He took a slow, seething breath, plotting as he felt the spark of a plan take root. If he could get you to quit on your own, perhaps he could still keep the funding—maybe, if he played his cards right, he could even sway your father to his side without the added irritation of watching you trip over your damn feet every three steps.

So he began to freeze you out. Day after day, he kept his distance, watching from the corner of his eye as you struggled on, hoping his chilly demeanour would drive you away. But you were far too talkative, your relentless cheer slipping through the cracks of his carefully crafted mask. Every time he steeled himself to ignore you, there you were, talking at length about how much you loved his show, how much his puns and wordplay made you laugh, how his humour lifted your spirits.

The way your eyes sparkled when you praised him—it should have been satisfying. Instead, it was infuriating.

Yet, against his better judgment, he found himself responding. Something in the glint of your smile made his guarded grin relax, if only for a moment. Begrudgingly, he’d join in, rolling his eyes at your endless enthusiasm but unable to entirely dismiss it. It was as if you were some parasitic creature, a leech drawing life from him, clinging on with no intention of letting go.

And he endured—patient, calculating, waiting for you to tire of him.

But then came the last straw. His beloved broadcast, his dream, was starting to slip through his fingers. Listeners dropped off, each patron he had worked tirelessly to convince backed out one by one. Every investment vanished like smoke. And with it, his patience thinned to a knife’s edge, fraying with each setback. Months of self-restraint, of resisting his baser urges, of refraining from any “extracurricular activities” in favour of keeping his show alive, felt like sacrifices crumbling underfoot.

And he blamed you.

Though in truth, your mistakes weren’t drastic enough to ruin his business, but they were enough to tear away at his sanity: the times you forgot to pick up his dry cleaning, spilled coffee on his meticulously crafted script—one he knew by heart—or neglected to take his typewriter in for maintenance, forcing him to painstakingly handwrite his next segment. Small annoyances, but they added up, each one tightening the coil of irritation within him.

Today, though, something snapped. It started with a simple spill, water glistening on the polished wooden floor of his office. As you bent down to hurriedly wipe it, your hand brushed against his glass vase, sending it crashing to the ground in a cascade of shattered crystal. The shards sparkled around you, a mocking reflection of the life he felt slipping into chaos.

In one swift movement, he had you pinned against the wall, his hands braced beside your head, his body pressing close. He could feel the heat radiating from you, his knee slipping between your legs, lifting just enough to keep you fixed in place. The room felt smaller, the air charged with something he couldn’t name, something that sent a thrill down his spine as he watched the flush creep up to your cheeks.

“I have never met anyone as clumsy and foolish as you,” he murmured, his voice low, menacing. Though his mouth held its trademarked grin, his eyes burned, dark and narrowed, a storm barely restrained.

“Ah, u-uhm,” you stammered, your eyes darting away, body trembling before him.

“Look. At. Me.” His fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up, so your gaze was locked with his.

Deep down, Alastor knew he was risking everything. You were untouchable—Daddy’s little girl from a family of wealth and power, far beyond his own background. He knew what one accusation could do, one tear sent running back to your father. His dream, his work, his station—he could lose it all before he could snap his fingers, hah!

But right now, the months of mounting irritation, of resisting every impulse, of pushing down every dark urge—none of it seemed to matter.

“So-sorry, s-sir,” you whispered, a helpless apology on your lips. And at that moment, something snapped within him. The rush of power, the slight tremor in your voice, the glimmer of fear in your eyes—it was intoxicating.

His fingers itched with desire, a pulse of longing, dark and primal.

He wanted to choke you, see the life dull from your eyes, kill you.

It had been so long since he’d indulged, felt the thrill of being in control, of bending someone to his will. Slowly, his hand slipped down, brushing along the column of your neck, fingers tracing the soft, vulnerable skin.

Just a small squeeze. Just a taste.

The moment his hand rested there, he felt the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips, sensed the quick rise and fall of your breath. Your pupils widened, darkening with something that wasn’t just fear, and he nearly laughed at the realization.

You were… enjoying this.

“Was it all on purpose, dear?” His voice dropped to a dark murmur, lips just a breath away from your ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of you. “Did you want this to happen? Have you been fantasizing about this with me?” His leg shifted, pressing upward, his knee sliding dangerously close to the warmth of your core, your skirt sliding higher as he held you in place.

There was no escape for you, nowhere to look but at him, and he could hear your heart pounding louder, a heat blooming that had nothing to do with fear. The line between his anger and desire blurred, each breath he shared with you pulled him deeper into something he couldn’t resist.

“Did you want to be punished by me?” Alastor’s voice was a low, dangerous purr, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he held you there, watching your every response. The softest moan slipped from your lips, unbidden, and his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin.

“Oh, dear,” he murmured, clicking his tongue in mock reproach. “How utterly deviant, depraved, you are.” He leaned closer, his lips barely grazing the edge of your ear. Every sound, every whisper, heightened the tremble in your muscles as your body gave in to his hold.

Alastor felt the thrum of his own pulse, a deep, carnal need that was building to an undeniable point. He’d known desire before, but never this tangled web of control and raw hunger that he felt with you pinned so willingly beneath him.

To his dark amusement, he felt the tightening in his pants as he took in every inch of your flushed, submissive form. You were an enticing little thing, and now, the line he’d never meant to cross was beginning to blur.

A tempting thought crossed his mind. “If I fulfill your desire, will you fulfill mine, dear?” His voice was a low, velvet promise as he pressed his knee firmly against your core, feeling the heat of you even through the fabric. His grin grew, an expression laced with a dangerous delight. “How utterly sinful you are, hiding that desire under a mask of innocence.”

“I-I would do anything you’d like, sir,” you whispered, breath hitching, your hands glued to your side.

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, Alastor pulled back, though he didn’t allow enough distance for you to look away—or see the intensity of his arousal pressing through his trousers.

“Let me give you what you want,” he murmured. “One good, hard fuck, and I,” his voice turned sweet as he tilted his head, his gaze narrowing with intent, “want you to quit for good, after ensuring that Daddy keeps his generous funding for me.” He brushed his fingers along your cheek, a mockingly gentle caress. “What do you say, dear? Do we have a deal?”

You hesitated, looking into his eyes, the flush of your cheeks deepening as your lip caught between your teeth. “Hard f-fuck?” you stuttered, voice soft yet bold, your fingers hovering near his chest before you finally dared to touch him, briefly tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “You don't find that strange?”

Alastor didn't care how unusual your desire was. As long as he got what he wanted at the end, that was all that mattered to him.

The end always justified the means.

A dark laugh slipped from him, and he tightened his grip, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, fingers pulling enough to tip your head back as he leaned in. He pressed himself against you, his hardness now unmistakable against your stomach, his lips grazing yours in the lightest, tantalizing tease.

“Eyes on me, darling,” he commanded softly, releasing his hold on you just enough to let his thumb trail down your lip as he took a small step back, watching you. “Now,” his voice dropped to a dark whisper, “strip.”

To his delight, you hesitated, only for a heartbeat. Your cheeks flushed in that shade of pretty pink he found almost as irresistible as your trembling compliance. But then, slowly, you began undoing the buttons of your blouse, your fingers shaking slightly as you slipped the fabric from your shoulders, baring yourself to his gaze.

Heat surged in his veins, not only from the sight of you, but from the delicious power thrumming in his veins. This wasn’t just about pleasure. It was control, a feeling as heady as the thrill of holding someone’s life in his hands.

But tonight, he was going to savour every second of holding you in the palm of his hand.

As your clothes slipped away, one by one, you stood bare before him, your skin glistening in the dim light, the cool air teasing your erect nipples. He stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels against the polished wood. “Someone might come in, dear; are you aware of that? I left the door unlocked, after all.” His voice dripped with sadistic glee.

Your breath hitched, and your gaze flicked nervously to the doorknob, before you paled, realizing it was indeed unlocked. You had no idea that his workers had all quit once they heard wind of the investors backing out.

Yet, you stood your ground, your eyes meeting his with a potent mix of fear and unyielding resolve. There was a trust there—a dangerous, intoxicating trust—that he knew he didn’t deserve but was all too willing to take.

“Kneel,” he commanded, and your knees hit the floor without hesitation. His lips curled into a wicked grin as he closed the distance, his hips thrusting forward enticingly. “Show me just how much you want it, dear.” His voice was sultry and low, coaxing you into surrender. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and pants, pulling them down to reveal his half-hard cock, thick and waiting for you.

You inhaled sharply, before you pressed your lips to the tip while looking up at him, waiting for his next command. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed, “Tongue out,” he added, and your tongue slipped out from your lips, eager to please him.

With a firm grip on your hair, he guided your head forward, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. A low, primal groan escaped him, echoing off the walls of the office. It had been far too long since he’d indulged in such raw pleasure, and the thrill of having complete control over you heightened his arousal. This was not the gentle foreplay he was used to; this was a deliciously crude act of dominance that made his heart race.

He couldn’t help but imagine how his mother would disapprove of his treatment of you. But you craved this, wanted him in ways that thrilled and terrified you both. It felt like a dark dance of power—a beautiful, twisted exchange that neither of you could resist.

With each thrust, he lost himself deeper in your warmth, the sensation of your soft, wet mouth engulfing him driving him to the edge. He revelled in the control he wielded, in the way you surrendered to his desires, your submission stoking the one lukewarm drive within him.

The best part of this exchange? He was going to remain on top, remain in control, remain in power, both in the deal struck and the way he devoured you.

When he called you depraved, a deviant, your heart sank. Deep down, you knew it was true; your desires were unconventional, perhaps even strange. You had been with other men before, yet none had ever come close to scratching the itch that Alastor stirred within you.

Every word he spoke about you rang true. Yes, you had a crush on him. Yes, you often found yourself lost in naughty, impure thoughts about him. Still, you yearned to keep those thoughts hidden, for working for him had become the highlight of your months.

For once, you felt needed, desired, and useful—feelings that seemed to vanish the moment you returned home, where you faced the disappointment of your parents after yet another failed meeting with a suitor. The worry etched on their faces suggested they feared you might become a spinster.

The thought of Alastor wanting you to quit stung. It felt as if your dreams were crumbling around you, and the realization that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings hurt more than you cared to admit. But if you could have him for the first and last time, you wanted it to be an unforgettable memory.

What Alastor would never realize was that you would never allow your father to withdraw his support from him financially. You loved his show genuinely, and you wanted to see him succeed and thrive. You believed in him wholeheartedly, confident that one day he would achieve the success he deserved, so he wouldn’t have to bargain for your father’s backing.

As his hot, heavy cock filled your mouth, you felt a rush of heat flush through your body. You gagged slightly when the tip pressed against the back of your throat, a combination of pleasure and slight panic washing over you. The salty taste of him overwhelmed your senses, and you glanced up, seeing Alastor’s eyes closed in pure ecstasy. His fingers gripped your hair, the pressure varying as he slowly rolled his hips, the head of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth.

Each time you choked on him, you felt the violent twitch of his cock, and a small, heady low moan from him. It seemed he relished the sounds you made, and you focused on creating a tight seal around him, sucking with all the enthusiasm you could muster. But the bliss was abruptly cut short when he pulled your hair, yanking you off his cock. A glistening strand of saliva connected the tip of his cock to your lips, then fell, leaving a tiny droplet on the floor.

“Messy girl,” he teased, and you could see the hard anger in his eyes fade, replaced by a gleam of something more raw and animalistic. He was enjoying this, and your heart raced at the thought. “Always making a mess of all my things.” His gaze flickered to the shattered vase on the floor, but thankfully, none of the fragments had reached where you knelt. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Your shoulders jumped as you looked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so—” But before you could finish, he thrust his cock back down your throat. You gagged again, tears springing to your eyes as you grasped at his thighs for stability.

The struggle for breath was real, but Alastor didn’t relent, pushing deeper until your vision blurred from the lack of air. You fought to breathe through your nose, panic mingling with arousal. Just when you thought you might pass out, he finally pulled back, leaving you gasping for air, your body bowed low as coughs escaped your lips, mixed with tears and saliva spilling from your mouth.

“I should punish you, shouldn’t I?” Alastor purred, his voice smooth like silk as he sauntered over to the single-seat couch in the corner of his office. His cock stood proudly, glistening with your saliva, an inviting sight that made your heart race. He patted his knee, an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. “Come.”

A flutter of excitement mixed with trepidation filled you as you quickly stood up, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you approached him. When you reached him, your stomach flipped with a blend of curiosity and uncertainty. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, settling on your slick folds, and he hummed a low note of approval. Slowly, he extended his hand, sliding a finger between your inner folds before teasingly flicking your sensitive clit.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you doubled over, almost collapsing onto his lap. You could see the wicked glint in his eyes as he observed the slickness on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, tasting you. “Hmm,” he hummed, a smirk played on his lips. “Lay on my lap, stomach down.”

Your mind spun with a mix of confusion and apprehension. You complied, laying across his lap, your gaze dropping to the floor, heart racing. You felt the heat of his hard cock pressing against your side, and his hand began to stroke the gentle curve of your ass, sending sparks of desire coursing through you.

“Have you ever been punished before, my dear?” he asked suddenly, his tone teasing yet serious. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Have you ever been spanked before?” he corrected himself with a soft chuckle.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you shook your head. “N-no, my mama and papa never laid a hand on me like that,” you admitted quietly, unsure where Alastor was going with this.

“Ah, it all makes sense now,” he mused, his hand continuing to caress your ass, fingers grazing your drenched folds. The teasing touch was just enough to send waves of heat pooling in your core, igniting a desperate need within you. You wanted him to delve deeper, to flick your clit until you were begging for release.

“Let me give you a lesson on what we do to spoiled princesses,” Alastor remarked, his voice dripping with mock cheer.

Before you could utter a word, you felt a sharp slap against your left cheek. The sting radiated through you, a mix of pain and unexpected pleasure that made tears prick at your eyes. You stifled a cry, fingers clenching at his pants in a desperate bid for control.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his tone devoid of any sympathy, only curiosity.

You nodded vigorously, the truth washing over you.

“Excellent,” he replied, a smirk curling at his lips before he raised his hand again, delivering another sharp slap to the same spot. The pain was intense, yet thrilling, and you felt a tear escape, rolling down your cheek as your body reacted in ways you never thought it could.

Before you could beg him to stop, you felt his fingers plunge deep into your core, rubbing and massaging against your walls. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, quickly morphing into a heady moan as your body instinctively wiggled, seeking more of his touch. The slick sound of his fingers squelching inside you mixed with your cries, blending the initial pain into a dizzying rush of pleasure.

Suddenly, an insatiable hunger ignited within you. You hadn’t realized how exquisitely pain and pleasure could intertwine. “Please, sir, m-more,” you mewled, unable to hold back the desperate need spilling from your lips as you turned your tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Your heart raced, overwhelmed by the heady blend of emotions and sensations.

Alastor’s fingers stilled inside you, his eyes darkening as they traced over your expression, drinking in your vulnerability. The corners of his lips twitched with satisfaction, and you felt the heat of his cock twitching insistently against your side. In a swift motion, he withdrew his fingers, pulling you up and manoeuvring you to straddle his lap.

Blood rushed to your head, the dull ache of arousal amplifying every sensation. Your breath hitched as you felt the thick tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. With a firm pull, he sank you down onto him, filling you completely to the hilt.

A scream tore from your throat, a mix of shock and bliss as the delicious stretch enveloped you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sharp, heat of pleasure as his cock throbbed against your walls. The arousal only mounted as Alastor leaned back against the couch, his mouth slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

Moments later, he opened his darkened eyes. His fingers released your hips, and he commanded, “Move.”

You hesitated, adjusting to his size, then began to lift yourself up, savouring the emptiness he left behind before sinking back down onto him again. The rhythm felt exhilarating as you rode him, bare and exposed before his hungry gaze.

His hands found their way to your nipples, fingers grazing your sensitive skin, teasing your areolas with gentle circles. The electric pleasure shot through you, urging you to move faster, each rise and fall sending jolts of pleasure through your body. As you sank back down, he pinched your nipples hard, the sensation exploding through you.

A sharp cry escaped your lips, mingling with a wave of decadent arousal that crashed over you. Desperation consumed you as you began to grind against his hip, your clit pulsing with need, craving attention, longing for the release that only he could provide.

“My, you certainly do handle pain in quite a strange way,” Alastor said, his breath coming in heavy, lust-filled gasps as his hips jerked up against you. “Though—hah—I can’t say that I dislike it,” he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

He pulled your body forward, pressing his face between the soft, inviting curves of your breasts. His hips took full control, pistoning his thick cock deep inside you. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, rising in a staccato rhythm that matched the desperate cries spilling from your lips. His teeth sank into the tender flesh of your breast, and you felt a delicious blend of pain and elation that blurred the lines of your pleasure.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as he bit down harder, his hunger for you evident in the fierce way he held you. Finally, he let go, his breath hot and ragged as he revealed his lips stained crimson with your blood.

Your heart raced as you looked down, seeing the deep teeth mark oozing with warmth. His tongue flicked across his lower lip, savouring the taste of you as he pressed you even deeper onto his cock. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, the sound raw and primal.

His eyes glinted with a dangerous hunger, and he bit into the underside of your breast once more, drawing another cry from your lips as his cock throbbed insistently against your walls. Instantly, the world flipped, and your back hit the cold floor, the shock sending sparks of mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you. Alastor's every bite left a blazing trail of sensation, a heady mix of sharp pain and bliss. His teeth glistened with crimson, and he began to thrust into you with desperation, each powerful movement sending waves of euphoria radiating from your core.

It was overwhelming—the way he drilled into you, the way his hips slapped against your clit with a relentless intensity. The wet sound of skin against skin filled the air, mingling with the cacophony of his moans and your cries. Just as he sank his teeth into your other shoulder, you felt a blinding rush of pleasure, a bright flash that took you over the edge. You shattered around him, your body convulsing in waves of pure bliss as he continued to thrust, driving you deeper into ecstasy.

Sobbing with a mixture of overstimulation and overwhelming emotion, drool trickled from your lips as tears flowed freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the intense heat of your orgasm washing over you in a torrent. When he finally withdrew, Alastor positioned himself above you, pumping his cock vigorously, each stroke pulling a raw, primal growl from deep within him. The gleaming head of his cock pointed toward you, dripping with unsatisfied lust.

With a low, guttural sound, he released himself, spurting hot, milky liquid that mingled with the crimson of your blood, swirling together into a beautiful shade of pink. The warmth splattered across your face, your neck, and trickled down the curve of your chest, marking you as his.

When he finally let go, he gazed down at you with a mix of desire and admiration. “My, how pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, his eyes glazed and wild with an unquenchable hunger.

Your heart raced at his words, and you lay still, the remnants of your orgasm still pulsing through you, each throb a reminder of the heat and sting left by his bites and slaps.

You didn’t dare speak as you waited for Alastor to gather himself, bracing for the inevitable moment he would fire you. Instead, he did something entirely unexpected. With a slow, deliberate movement, he traced his cum, now mingled with your blood, transforming into a light pink hue across your bottom lip. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and something more debased stirring within you.

He then penetrated your mouth with his finger, the salty, bitter taste flooding your senses. You could taste the metallic tang, and a whisper of disgust escaped your lips as the awful flavour overwhelmed you.

“I expect to see you tomorrow,” he murmured softly, his gaze locked on your lips, hypnotized as he pistoned his finger in and out of your mouth. Each movement was both gentle and demanding, making you feel utterly exposed. “Perhaps I underestimated your usefulness,” he continued, pressing down on your tongue, forcing you to swallow around him. “If you don’t come, I’ll assume you quit.”

As he withdrew his fingers, glistening with your saliva, he brought them to his own, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he savoured you, relishing the taste, ignited a forbidden thrill deep within you.

“Understood,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse yet tinged with submission. The soft addition of “sir” fell from your lips like an offering, and the way his eyes darkened in response sent a jolt of excitement through you.

His grin stretched wider, a predatory gleam flashing across his features, making you feel like prey caught in the gaze of a hungry predator. You were trapped, utterly captivated by his dominance, and yet there was a part of you that craved it—craved him.

And deep down, you knew you would let him devour you whole, wouldn’t you?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

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spookyghostjelly · 1 year ago

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Sweet Sickness - Phantom x f!reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, pure smut, pnv sex, ghoul in heat, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, biting, Phantom is baby

Thank you @whatawonderfulexistence--blog for proofreading this, you're the best ❤️

You bid a couple of siblings good night as you finally got to your room's door. You had thought about curling up in front of the fireplace with a book all day, and you smiled softly to yourself as you opened the door. You fully expected to come upon the sight of your cozy and empty bedroom but what your gaze came upon instead had your heart nearly jump out of your throat. A ghoul, Phantom more precisely, was pacing nervously back and forth in front of your bed, wide panicked eyes looking up when he heard you come in.

"C-can you close the door please?" He stutters, fidgeting nervously as he comes to a stop.

Your initial shock finally wears off, and you do as he says, closing the door hurriedly behind you. You step towards him, but stop when you notice the way his body tenses.

"Phantom, what's wrong?" You ask, worry seeping into your tone. You'd never seen the ghoul look so restless.

"I… I don't know" he resumes his pacing. "I don't know what's going on, I'm feeling all weird and hot and feverish…" he looks back at you with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry I got into your room without permission y/n, I didn't know what else to do…"

Your heart squeezes at the sight, he looks so genuinely scared, you just want to help him in any way you can. You take another step towards him but he stops his pacing immediately, staring at you, his eyes visibly narrowing on your every move. You stop again.

"Can I get close to you? I just wanna check your temperature." You ask in a soft tone.

His stare is hesitant for a moment before he finally nods, you can see he’s trying to keep himself from fidgeting. You approach him and reach carefully for his forehead. His dark eyes follow your movement with apprehension and once your hand finally comes to rest on his skin, a high pitched whine leaves his lips. A whine that seemingly surprises him just as much as you, if his suddenly horrified expression is anything to go by.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that!" He stammers, his cheeks flushing.

In any other situation, you'd find this incredibly adorable, but the ghoul before you is burning hot to the touch, which is making you a little worried. Ghouls sometimes had a higher body temperature than humans, but Phantom was even hotter than Dew right now, which is unusual. Then, just as you go to withdraw your hand from his skin, his hand is quick to snatch your wrist and bring it to his cheek.

"Can you please keep touching me? I don't know why, it just feels better…"

His wide pleading eyes are staring into yours and you can't help but get lost in the lavender swirls of his irises for a moment, a soft smile pulling at your lips. What brings you back to the moment is a low hum, sounding very nearly like a growl, that comes from Phantom when you mindlessly rubbed your thumb on his cheek. You nearly pull back, afraid you'd hurt him somehow, but his hand still gripping your wrist keeps you from doing so and his whole body tenses.

"It's okay Phantom," you try to sound reassuring despite the little nervous wobble of your voice. "Now, did you tell any of the other ghouls about what's going on?"

He shakes his head and you hum thoughtfully. Truth was, you didn't know much about the ghouls' systems, in their human or demon form, you don't even know if they can actually get sick.

"Are you feeling any kind of pain?"

He thinks for a moment.

"Burning… feels like I'm burning from the inside- it's not painful, I think? But it's…", he pauses as he seemingly searches for the right term, "consuming."

The last word comes as a harsh whisper and suddenly you realize how he had somehow moved closer to you without you even noticing. His body now had you trapped against him and your bed and he was so close, you can feel his body heat wash all over you. You also hear the way his breath is getting heavier with each passing second.

"Phantom? Are you ok?"

Your worry is only increasing when no answer comes. Instead, his head shifts to the side a bit, bringing his lips mere inches from your wrist, and he inhales deeply. His eyes close and a groan escapes his lips while you stare dumbly at him, confused as to what was going on.

"Phan-" you begin but stop abruptly when you feel sharp canines brush your sensitive skin.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on, but you just smell so good-" he whispers, his breath so feverishly hot on your skin. "Please let me touch you, I feel like I need it so bad…"

His pleading gaze comes back to yours and they are filled with such longing and need you can almost taste it. Despite worry still being present in your mind, you find yourself wanting to indulge him. You'd had a soft spot for the new ghoul ever since you'd first met him a few months ago, just after his summoning, and your feelings only grew with time. He can be a little clumsy at times, and sometimes looked up a little too much at Dew as an example. But, unlike the grumpy fire ghoul, Phantom is sweet, a little shy, and always so eager to help and learn. A little nibble at your wrist pulls your mind back to him, and you realize he is waiting, or rather craving, for an answer.

"Yes", you breathe out.

The word barely makes it past your lips, his hands are cupping your cheeks and his mouth is crashing on yours. He kisses you like a starving man, his sharp fangs brushing against your lips and his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours with a deep moan. You grip at the collar of his uniform shirt while his hands frantically travel down your body to grab your hips, claws digging in slightly as he presses you impossibly further against him. You whimper against his lips as you feel just how hard he already is. Just as you feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen, his mouth quickly trails down to your neck where he leaves a myriad of hungry kisses and nips. The broken moan he pulls from you seems to delight him, judging by the purr that rumbles deeply in his chest.

"Fuck puppy, I need to have you, right now"

You squeak as he suddenly tears into your habit and underwear, ripping them all from you, his claws cut through fabric like a knife through butter. Before you can even fully process that you're now bared before him, he's already tearing into his own clothes. In less than seconds, you both stand naked and he's pushing you backwards, until you're laid out on the bed and he eagerly climbs on top of you. As his eyes explore the length of your body, you notice the way his pupils are blown so wide, the purple of his irises can no longer be seen. He's looking down at you like he's literally gonna eat you, and at this point, you think you would actually let him do so. You inhale sharply when he suddenly dives down, his lips sealing around a nipple while a hand goes for the other. Your body arches against him as you cry out his name and he growls lowly. His tail travels softly up and down your legs, a sharp contrast to his ravenous mouth. He then proceeds to leave kisses and bites all the way down your stomach, while his hands flitter from one part of your body to the other, like he's trying to explore everywhere all at once. You're squirming under him and the urgency of his actions has your head spinning. Before you know it, his mouth is now lined with your heat, his breath so hot on your most sensitive parts as he inhales deeply. His eyes look up to yours as his tail curls around one of your ankles and you gasp loudly when his tongue finally laps at you. Your hand flies to his head instinctively, grabbing his horn at the base. He whimpers so loudly, you think you might've hurt him or something, but the second you try to remove your hand he grabs it to keep you from moving. You look down at him and you see the way he's already humping the mattress, desperately looking for any type of relief, all while staring up at you with the hungriest look you've ever seen. He doesn't give you any more time to settle as he then laps at you frantically, like his life actually depends on it. He's going back and forth between plunging his tongue as deep as he can within you, to circling your clit, all while moaning and groaning obscenely. Your grip tightens onto his horn as your head falls back, a mix of his name and swears spilling past your lips. You can't even align proper thoughts anymore, and you know he's far from done with you. His tongue feels sinful in the most delightful of ways and it's sending your mind into complete ecstasy. He then proceeds to plunge two of his fingers within you, pumping them in and out at a vicious pace. He manages to find your sweet spot in record time, and the stimulation of both his tongue and fingers has your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You scream out his name, your grip on now both of his horns tightening as your body shakes. You barely notice the way his eyes roll into the back of his head as he drinks you up eagerly. He continues to lap at you until your body spasms and you whimper from overstimulation. He comes back up to meet your lips with his, kissing you deeply. You moan against him as you taste yourself on his tongue.

"Puppy, need to be inside please, tell me you want me," he begs when he parts from you, the tip of his cock already brushing at your entrance.

"Want you Phantom, please yes," you answer immediately, already desperate to feel him inside you.

He wastes no time as he bottoms out in one go, barely giving you any time to adjust to his size before he starts thrusting into you harshly. You're both panting against each other's lips, both moaning and groaning loudly. He kisses you again while his tail comes up to flick at your nipple and you clench around him, which in turn drives him to fuck you even harder. He's hitting that spot repeatedly again and you're seeing stars, you'd never felt so good. His head falls forward, his lips now brushing against the skin of your neck and you dig your nails into the skin of his back.

"Puppy, I need to bite you, please, please, please!"

He's babbling and pleading loudly but your foggy brain doesn't even manage to fully understand what he said before you suddenly feel his teeth digging in the flesh at the base of your neck. You screech at the sudden spike of pain, pleasure and surprise, a completely overwhelming mix. He releases the skin before hungrily lapping at the blood that now flows from the wound.

"Fuck, that's it, you're mine now puppy, I won't let anyone else touch you… I love you so much!"

He's rutting into you harshly, his hips slapping hard against your skin. You feel tears coming down your cheek, a sob ripping from your throat from the overstimulation and pleasure.

"Phantom, please!"

"Yes puppy I'm right here, I'm gonna fill you up, stuff you full of my kits! You're gonna be such a good mommy…"

He's panting loudly into your ear and you feel yourself clenching around him.

"Cum again for me please, my sweet, I know you can g-give me one more."

As he says so, he angles himself to hit your cervix with every thrust. You're screaming by now but you can't bring yourself to care, not when his cock feels so good. The coil in your stomach is winding tighter and tighter with each of his thrusts, and before you can even process that you're close, you're already screaming his name on repeat as it snaps violently.

"That's it puppy, oh f-fuck, you feel so good, I-I'm gonna-"

He doesn't even manage to finish his sentence as he cums deep in you, stuffing you more full than you've ever been. Praises and swears are tumbling past his lips uncontrollably, nearly incoherent. You feel his cock kick for what feels like minutes and he whimpers and hisses each time your walls clench around him. Finally, his body relaxes and you squeak when he grabs you and flips your positions so you're laying on top of him. You both stay like this for a while, until your quick pants become deeper, calmer breaths. You look up at him only to find his eyes already on you. His pupils are still blown wider than usual, but now you can faintly see a rim of purple around them. You feel his hands against you fidgeting and he's now chewing on his lip worriedly.

"Phantom? What's up?" You ask as you bring a hand to his hair, brushing it back from his face.

He purrs and leans into the touch, eyes closing slightly.

"It's… it's true you know…" you cock your head slightly at his words. "I love you…" he adds hesitantly in a whisper, his eyes darting away from yours.

Your lips part in surprise at his confession. Even after all this, you thought it was probably nothing more than some heat-induced babbling, not an actual confession from him. You feel the way his body tenses at your silence.

"I wasn't planning on telling you like this I swear, I had a whole thing planned in my head, I'm sorry it just came out! I couldn't help it, I think it's because of the weird and stupid sickness, I just-"

You cut off his nervous rant by quickly pressing your lips to his and the muffled gasp that comes from him makes you smile against his lips. He still responds eagerly, quickly turning the kiss into something much more heated. You reluctantly part from him when your lungs scream for oxygen.

"I love you too" you finally breathe out, your heart fluttering in your chest as you do.

He stares at you for a moment with wide humid eyes, his gray skin darkening as he flushes. Then you feel him stir slightly against you, and you notice he's growing hard again.

"Puppy, I-I'm sorry, I think I need help, I'm still feeling…" he trails off, whimpering when you press your hips against his.

"It's ok Phantom, I'm here to help you with your heat," you answer with a smile and you giggle at his confused stare.

"My heat?" You see the realization dawn upon him a few seconds later, then you sink upon him in one quick motion. "Oh fuck, puppy!" He screams.

It would be a long night, that much you knew, but you had to admit, there was no one else you'd rather spend it with than the ghoul you loved.

#phantom x reader #phantom ghost #phantom ghoul x reader #ghost band fanfic #fanfic smut #reader smut #smut #mdni #the band ghost #phantom ghoul #my writing #fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #ghost

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sphylor · 4 months ago

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nonsexual praise kink Mountain... he comes to Dew when hes in pain instead of trying to work through it and Dew sits him against his chest as he warms him and and massages the worst of the pain away. and the whole time hes praising him "you did so well today, and im so proud of you for stopping before the pain got to much. youre such a good boy for coming to me, hmm? my good boy" and the whole time Mountain is blushing and his tail is wagging like crazy. and it really just helps alleviate any guilt he has about not getting everything done he wanted to that day and having to stop himself. and Dew loves it too because Mountain is taking care of himself by letting Dew take care of him. he loves praising Mountain and watching the blush spread over his freckled cheeks and the smile spread across his face and he loves listening to all the little pleased chuffs and trills he makes.

#dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #sphy's mountaindew posting

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 15 days ago

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The Pain of Living 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, chronic pain, blood/violence, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You deal with pain every day, but a new source of pain lands on your front step.

Note: I know I shouldn't.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You can’t sleep. That’s nothing new. Your fatigue is more than just a symptom of your condition. It’s a purgatory. Much like the pain that often adds to your restlessness. Funny how you know moving hurts, yet you hate to be still.

You sit up and groan at the stiffness in your neck and shoulders. It isn’t just in the mornings. It follows you through the day. You fall asleep with the same tension wound into your muscles.

You stand, dragging your feet as you try to shake out the tingling in your arms. Your thumb twitches. You yawn, long and loud, and wade through the early dim. You made it almost to three in the morning. That shouldn’t be a great feat.

You grab a sweatshirt from your closet and leave the small bedroom. The place is tiny. One-floor; a kitchen, a bedroom, a front room, and bathroom. Detached and lonely but affordable. You don’t go out anyway, not where there are people. And you don’t have friends.

You slip into your shoes and open the front door. There’s a bench at the edge of the property. Ten steps. That’s it. Sometimes they’re easy to count. Other times, it feels like Everest. You get there and you’re out of breath and the way back feels tenfold.

You can’t stay inside. You feel claustrophobic in your own body, holing up in the house, only makes it worse. The air is cool and damp as dew settles on the grass. Your slips clap on the narrow pavement path.

...Two, three, four, five...

You slow and squint at the bench. There’s something on it. At first, you think someone left a bag of rubbish there again, but then you notice the way something dangles over the edge. It’s a man.

You stop and turn back, looking at the front door, but then you think better of it. He could be hurt. Likely, only drunk.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

You stop beside the bench and look down at the figure. He’s breathing. You can hear each painful wheeze as he sucks it in. He’s face down, one arm and one leg hanging over the side. His head droops down as well, he’s too tall for the slats.

More startlingly, there’s a slick patch of red across his left shoulder. His shirt is torn around the gaping wound and blood smears across the fabric and his neck. There are even stains in his hair that seep past the buzzed strands into his scalp.

You’re weak at the sight of him. You reach to the back of the bench to keep from collapsing. He’s in rough shape. What do you do?

You stare at him then at the house. Ten steps. What do you? Do you go back and grab your phone, call for help? You try to get him up? Then what? You’re certainly in no state to help him.

You lean back on your heel. Something wraps around your ankle and you yelp. You look down as the man clings to you. You try to shake him off and he grumbles.

“Don’t leave,” he rasps, another breath rattling from his chest.

“I... sorry,” you try to twist your ankle free. “I can’t--”

“Dammit,” his breath whistles from him. “Don’t.”

He squeezes even tighter and you whine.

“Sir? I can call someone.”

“Fuck... no,” he sneers.

He releases your angle, raising his hand up your leg, dragging along the loose fabric of your pajamas. He reaches up, waggling his fingers. All three of them. You’re sickened at the sight of his bloodied and stubbed ring and pinkie fingers.

You take his wrist and latch on as firmly as you can. He grunts as he pulls himself up and angles to sit against the back of the bench. His feet hit the ground heavily and he puffs out a tortured huff.

“Fuckkkkkkk me,” he groans as he hugs his ribs. More blood across the front.

You stare, dumbfounded.

“I’ll get my phone.”

“Don’t you fucking list--” He coughs and bends forward, keeping his arm around his middle as he hacks. He spits a reddened wad onto the ground and growls. “No. No calls. Get me inside.”

“Inside?”

“You keep making me repeat myself and I’m going to drown in my own fucking blood,” he reaches for you again, “come on, honey bun, I just need a boost.”

You wave and once more peek at the house. He snarls and drops his arm. You glance back as he folds over again and reaches under his pant leg. He sits up with a pain roar and extends his arm in your direction. Your eyes nearly cross at the sight of the short barrel.

“Get me off this fucking bench before you’re in worse shape than me. Got it, tater tot?”

Your blood runs cold. You’ve never had a gun aimed at you. You’ve never even seen one up close. Only water pistols.

You don’t think of arguing. You don’t even try to explain that you’re not very strong and that you hurt all over and you really don’t think you can get him that far. You don’t because you don’t feel any of it. Adrenaline overflows and drowns out all your doubts.

You put your hands up and sway, “I’ll help. Please put it way.”

He sighs and drops his arm. He leans forward and raises his other, waving you closer as he dips his chin. You move in front of him and grab his elbow. He rocks slightly, “on three.” He pushes back and forward, “one, two, three.”

He uses his momentum to stand and whittles out a brittle breath as he hunches over. He stretches his arm over your shoulders and you fight not to wilt under his weight or the scent of blood radiating from him. You move cautiously, measuring each step as you work to keep from tipping over.

You turn him back down the path. Should you really bring in a man with a gun? You don’t have much of a choice. Even as your bones ache and your muscles burn.

He sounds awful. Like he’s dying. He could be. If he is, you’d hate to leave outside to do so but you’re not sure him doing so inside is much better.

“Fucking Christ, move a little slower,” he drones.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. You’re scared and in agony. You get him over the single step onto the porch and manage to push him through the door. The effort of your last surge has his arm sliding from your shoulders and he keels over onto the floor with a terrible thump and groan. You stand over him as he rolls onto his back.

“Balls,” he croaks as he sprawls on the rug. “For the love of my dick, get some fucking towels before I bleed out.”

You blink as you register his command. You don’t hesitate. You can’t. You hope he knows what to do because you sure don’t.

You turn and go as fast as you can to get the towels, too distracted by his blood to worry about him staining your them or the floor.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #the pain of living #drabble #series

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chapel-of-rizztual · 6 months ago

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Cw: oviposition, tentacles, breeding, med kink

Something something Mountains heats being so intense that the only thing that helps him is being tied to a breeding bench and letting the other ghouls in the ministry run him through. They make a line, they have to to stop them from fighting over him, from smallest to biggest.

Dew goes first. They all watch as Dew struggles to Mount him, growling impatiently. Thankfully Dew never lasts long and his knot never does either, too small to stay locked inside Mountain especially with how wet he is.

Auroras next, eating out Dews load out of him and making him cum with her very skilled tongue. Cumulus goes next, using her equally as skilled fingers to pull another orgasm out of him. Phantom follows, he has the eagerness and grace of a newborn giraffe and, like Dew, struggles to mount him. But that doesn’t stop him. He fucks him twice, growling at Mist when she tries to pull him off but he’s so desperate to get his knot into him. And just like Dew, he can’t get it to stay locked for more than a few minutes.

Mist follows, fucking him with her tentacle for a bit before she can’t take it anymore and pushes four of her eggs into him. That satisfies Mountain for a bit but it doesn’t matter because Rains next and he gets three more eggs pushed into him, along with a load of thick black slimy ink to go with it. He can feel it all dripping out of him and running down his thighs.

Cowbell helps him push them out. Squeezing his tummy from behind and watching as each egg stretches his cunt out before popping out. He pushes a few back in, fucks him with them a little before he’s getting shoved out of the way by Swiss. Swiss fucks him hard and fast, two fingers in his ass because he knows Mountain goes crazy for it. Swiss doesn’t last long, not when Mountain is so wet and sloppy. The barbs on his dick dig into the soft walls of Mountains cunt and lock them together in way that’s so painful it has Mountain cumming over and over.

Zephyr follows Swiss. He’s evil and fucks Mountains ass that Swiss had so nicely prepped for him. He’s uses the this spade of his tail to flick at Mountains clit, making him clench tightly around him. He fucks him slowly, his stamina impeccable. He doesn’t knot him, not with two impatient quintessence ghouls growling behind him. Instead he pulls out and cums across Mountains back, watching as his back muscles move and twitch as his load lands on him.

Second to last is Aether. He kneels down and with one gloved hand probes around his hole. He scoops up some of the mess that had spilled out of him and pushes it back into him. He uses a speculum to stretch him out, watching in awe as as all the cum pours out of him and into the floor below. He takes two of his fingers, pushing them in with the speculum and pokes around at Mountains cervix, telling him how well he’ll breed and ripe and ready he is and that he’s literally perfect to be bred and that his womb is begging to be filled with kits. He watches as Mountains cunt twitches around the speculum and he can feel as his cervix pulses as he cums.

Once Aether is done it’s Omega. The one Mountain had been dreading and hoping for at the same time. He’d once jokingly compared Omega to bull but now that he was pushing into him and stretching him out he doesn’t think it was much of a joke. He folds himself over Mountains back, biting as his neck. He reaches under him so he can grope at Mountains tits, pulling and twisting his nipple while he whispers how good they’ll feel all full and leaking with milk. He tells him how he’s going to breed him, how he’s not letting him go until he can smell his littler in his belly and see him bulging all fat and round with the evidence. He knots him three times, making Mountain beg for it each time, before he’s finally satisfied. And so it Mountain.

Sometime later, Copia wanders into the ghouls den, oblivious to what they’ve been up to and just curious as to where all the ghouls have disappeared to. He walks into the site of a very satisfied and blissed out Mountain, still tied to the breeding bench and several glowing eyes of the ghouls looking at, telling him it’s his turn.

#I know I’ve missed a few ghouls #but in my defence I wrote this in a sleep deprived state #ficlet #the band ghost

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her-satanic-wiles · 1 year ago

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October 15th

Noncon, Possessed!Swiss x Reader

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: Noncon; extreme horror; dead dove: do not eat; explicit use of the word “rape” throughout; public masturbation; exhibitionism; possession; violence; demonic asphyxiation; victim blaming; face-slapping; sexual violence; rape; rape-kink; characters acknowledge that it’s rape; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; pain; degradation; public sex; mind break; underprepared; dacrophilia; unconcious sex; multiple scenes; dubcon; fear play; breeding kink; cum eating; accidental filming via security camera; creampie;

The Ghouls aren't demons in my fic. They're humans who work in the Ministry but they're a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards depending on the importance of Papa's task.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

**WARNING**

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved and cared for. Thank you.

Sometimes rituals went wrong. That was one of the things you learned when you first joined the Ministry. Rituals go wrong and not every demon is your friend. Of course, the more rituals one participated in determined the success of said ritual just down to the fact that experience was a key ingredient and so it was always recommended to bring someone who had experience to every single ritual just to be safe.

Papa Copia’s Ghouls were the more experienced ones in the Ministry, but more specifically Mountain, Rain, Swiss, and Dew. Yourself and Phantom were mere babes in comparison; sweet summer children who knew nothing of life and Satanism, only sex rituals on pentagrams give funny dreams and great orgasms. Because of this, you and Phantom walked into the ritual room with a bit of a pep in your steps, and no worries or concerns whatsoever - not concerning yourselves with seriousness or responsibility. This was just a regular, sex magick ritual surrounded by friends in order to contact the Olde One and get some advice is all. You had done this perfectly before, and you had no reason to think it wouldn’t happen again.

You, Rain and Mountain began lighting the candles in the room, ten of them to be precise. One for each of the pentagram’s corners, and a further five to outline the space in between. Dewdrop, the most experienced of everyone there, was in charge of drawing the pentagram from scratch. The first step was to scrub away the existing paint from a previous Sibling’s ritual.

“Why are we doing this?” Phantom asked as he wrung out the hot, soapy water from the sponge.

Dew sighed, “Did you not pay attention during training, Phantom?”

Swiss was now on his hands and knees next to Dew scrubbing at the red paint with a hard-bristled brush. “Clearly not. Look at those eyes: no thoughts just vibes.”

Phantom threw some of the soapy water at Swiss, in turn earning himself a middle finger. “I didn’t have time to study, remember? I was just thrown straight into life here after Aether…” Phantom trailed off, remembering how so many people in the room weren’t ready to talk about what happened. There was a brief silence while they all cast their minds back to their long lost friend.

“We clean off the old pentagram,” Dew said, clearly exasperated by his Satanic brothers, “because we don’t know what kind of ritual our Siblings performed before we got here. Cleaning the floor allows us to better control the safety of our ritual.”

“What could happen if we don’t clean up?” Phantom asked. “Moreover, what would happen if we just built upon these lines?”

“Oh come on, Phantom.” You said. “Even I know that.” Phantom got on his knees and began scrubbing away the paint on his third of the pentagram. “The cross energy between rituals and magic opens up a gateway for negative energy to come through. Sometimes that energy is just bad karma or bad luck, and you have one hell of a week.”

Swiss, “Literally.”

You continued, “Or it’s the souls of the damned coming through, or worse, demons.”

Phantom, “Has the Dark One ever travelled through these portals?”

Dew, “Probably. But He doesn’t do it often.”

“What I still don’t understand is why demons and damned souls would want to hurt us, we’re all on the same side, after all.”

Mountain, “Catholicism. You give energy to things you believe in, which in turn makes it more powerful, right?” Phantom nodded. “This is why Lucifer Himself wouldn’t come to harm us because we love and worship Him as a friend, a lover, a brother etc. But according to Catholicism, why does Hell exist?”

“To punish bad people after they die.”

“And what do we know happens to these bad people when they spend an eternity being tortured by demons?”

“They become demons themselves.”

“Good boy, have a Scooby snack.” Mountain threw a packet of mini-Oreos at Phantom, who caught it with one hand.

Rain, “Some of those bad people become demons, not all of them. The majority of demons are created by Lucifer as assistants to Him, and they’re usually picked from the petty criminals rather than genocidal maniacs and bigoted pricks. Like Mephistopheles, for example. He was just a businessman before he died. Think Ebenezer Scrooge, but in real life. Stole from the poor to put in his back pocket. In comparison to say, I don’t know, Stalin, he wasn’t too bad of a guy. If Mephistopheles showed up, we would have a great time sending him back. We’d just have to watch our wallets.”

Phantom, “And if it’s one of the dangerous ones, it would be catastrophic?”

Dew, “Absolutely. Papa and the Clergy would have to get involved. Papa would have to contact the Olde One directly to come and drag the beast away. Contacting the Olde One with the ritual that Papa would need could put Papa in mortal danger. So, we clean to save Papa as well as ourselves. So, make sure you get every spot, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That was the first mistake made that night: no one double checked before the paint went down that the previous paint had been cleaned completely. From eye-level, everything looked squeaky. But what none of you realised at the time was there were small, insignificant specs of paint left in Swiss’ third. Insignificant specs, but by no means safe.

The second mistake was that when the candles were being placed on the freshly painted pentagram, one of them wasn’t precisely sat atop one of the points. The candles usually acted as an extra barrier of protection, essentially trapping something inside the pentagram if it came through uninvited. Lower level demons or spirits could still be trapped if the candles weren’t precise, but the higher level ones wouldn’t be stopped.

The five Ghouls were there to conduct the ritual on Papa’s behalf, you were there to provide the energy to allow them to do so. This wasn’t your first ritual and so you had no problems at all getting completely naked in front of the five men you considered to be close friends, and sitting in the centre of the pentagram. You’d been part of these rituals before with them, if you hadn’t already had a few of them balls deep inside you on multiple occasions beforehand. And so when they had all joined hands, you had no shyness or reservations about spreading your legs and exposing yourself to them. This would be the third mistake.

Swiss wasn’t concentrating fully. If you’d have opened your eyes and looked at your friends holding hands around you as they chanted, you would have seen Swiss looking directly at you with his mouth open, watching as you touched yourself surrounded by men. You would have seen that he was concentrating on your hands toying with your clit more than chanting the Latin required to safely perform the ritual. You could have stopped the ritual because of it - but you didn’t. You didn’t know that there was a problem.

Your head was thrown back in pleasure as your fingers worked over your clit. Your body was draining of energy the closer and closer you got to orgasm. In your line of sight, you could see Rain looking back at you but his mouth reciting the Latin he’d learned. You couldn’t see Rain’s eyes, though you were desperate to know what he looked like under there right now. All eyes were on you, and it turned you on so much to know that you were being intensely watched by five masked men as you dipped two fingers into your cunt and began to hit your g-spot.

Masked men, the fifth mistake.

Had they all removed their masks, everyone would have seen the biggest problem in the room: Swiss. Not only had he stopped chanting in order to concentrate on your wetness, but his head had begun twitching. Had he not worn his mask, others would have seen his eyes glaze over and roll back into his head. They’d have noticed the white dimming into pitch blackness. They’d have been able to break the circle and preemptively send the demon back to Hell before it could fully appear in the real world. But as hot as the masks were, and as much as you loved looking at them, they were impractical and unsafe for private rituals.

The air grew thick with an unholy presence, and a palpable darkness descended upon the ritual site. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath your feet as a foul wind swirled around you, extinguishing the candles one by one.

As the ritual reached its zenith, a sudden surge of malevolent force swept through the circle, causing you all to recoil in terror. Swiss let out a deep, yet blood curdling scream causing everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and freeze, yourself included. Your wet hand now removing itself from your core and your body sitting up straight in alarm. By the time you’d focused on him, Swiss had broken the circle and was cupping his head over his helmet, as though he was in immense pain. His screaming continued as he doubled over, bent at the waist and yelling at the floor. Swiss’ voice, now filled with an otherworldly resonance, grew louder and more insistent, his body trembling with an eerie energy. One of his hands began to hit at the mask in an attempt to stop whatever was causing him so much discomfort.

“Swiss!” Dew shouted, running over to his friend. “Brother, focus! Come back to us! Phantom! Go get help, now!”

Phantom nodded and ran out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Swiss, it’s me: it’s Dew. What’s wrong, brother?”

“My… head!” Swiss exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It’s in my head!”

You stood up and dressed yourself, making sure that at least your habit was covering you. All the while, you watched as Dew frantically tried to get answers out of his brother, and figure out what went wrong so he could help. Swiss was still screaming, still trying to escape out of Dew’s grasp.

Then silence.

Swiss stood straight. Still. No more screams of pain, no more frantic Dew. You couldn’t even hear the world outside the ritual room. Just maddening silence that could drive a person to insanity if they were in it for too long. Everyone remained unmoving, fearing even breathing in case it triggered something. You wanted to leave, to escape the room and get help - or even just pull your friends out and save them. But your body wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t respond to your brain’s pleas to get the fuck away.

In that chilling moment, a grotesque transformation overtook Swiss. His voice, now distorted and filled with malice, spoke words that were not his own. It was a demon that had taken hold of him, a malefic entity summoned from the abyss.

The demon had been called forth by all of the mistakes made that night. It reveled in the chaos and despair that surrounded it, relishing the opportunity to wreak havoc upon the mortal realm. With Swiss as its vessel, the demon’s power knew no bounds.

The demon’s dark presence continued to grow, casting a sinister pall over the entire Ministry. Outside of the room, a sense of unease began to spread. Siblings and Ghouls alike could feel the malevolence that radiated from the heart of the Ministry, an unnatural darkness that seemed to seep into their very souls. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn asunder, and the boundary between the mortal realm and the abyss had grown thin.

Everyone was simply afraid to speak, to move, to even breathe. There was a comfort in the silence that couldn’t be explained other than Swiss hadn’t attacked anyone or made any movements. You weren’t even sure if Swiss was still in there. No one move, no one blink, no one make any sounds.

Swiss moved first - his head shifting from Ghoul to Ghoul to you as though he were studying you all. He seemed more like a caged animal than a human as he weighed up his options, though he wasn’t entirely registering what he was seeing. Each room was designed with at least some kind of demonic suppressor so you knew whoever had stolen Swiss from you didn’t have the full extent of his powers. But as he’d barely done anything, you still couldn’t gauge just how dangerous he was.

Suddenly, Swiss’ eyes locked onto you and focused on nothing else. Your body was still very scantily clad in your habit, your legs fully on display even though you were hiding behind Mountain. Swiss’ mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “He likes you.” Two voices emerged from his throat, the first being Swiss’ sweet timbre, the second the demonic entity inside of him. “I am in his head. I know. I see.” He took a small step forward. “He has sinned against you. He does so nightly.” Another step. “He imagines things in his chambers when he is alone. He wants to bury himself deep inside you. Even today during the ritual, he considered getting on his knees and taking you in front of everyone.” Another step. That was when you all realised the final mistake: you.

Swiss got possessed because he was watching you masturbate in front of him. He got possessed because he was craving your body, your touch. He got possessed because he was concentrating on how you’d feel wrapped around him and didn’t pay attention to the most important things. You never should have been chosen for the ritual. You never should have agreed.

Swiss spoke again. “I think we should give him what he wants, don’t you?”

“You stay away from her!” Dew shouted. He’d gained enough confidence and bravery to step forward, arms outstretched, and ready to restrain Swiss. Or at least attempt to anyway. Dew was much, much smaller than Swiss, so even when he wasn’t possessed by a demonic entity, restraining him alone would have been damn near impossible. But the added power now coursing through Swiss’ human veins made restraint way more difficult.

All Swiss had to do was lift his hand and Dew was levitating from the ground. A simple push saw Dew flying backwards, his head smacking against the wall and his body falling limp to the floor.

“Dew!” Rain shouted. It was a natural reflex done out of fear and it caused him to lurch forward. The demon, presuming Rain had moved to attack him, copied the motion and threw Rain against the wall too, the sweetest of all the Ghouls now unmoving on the other side of the room.

Mountain still held you behind him and for every step the demon took towards you, Mountain moved you backwards. You could tell he was trying to move you towards the door without taking his eyes off of Swiss. But deep down you both knew that while Mountain was a worthy opponent for Swiss, he was no match for the thing possessing him. All Mountain could do was hope that you at least got out of the room safely especially now that the demon had its eyes on you.

“Give her willingly and your life will be spared.” Swiss’ two voices cut through the panicked silence.

“No.” Mountain said.

Swiss raised his hand into a fist and concentrated on Mountain. Mountain, like the others, was now being raised off the ground, but this time Swiss was being torturous, enjoying the pain he was inflicting internally. Mountain grasped at his throat as if a hand had been wrapped around it, and struggled to get air into his lungs. “___,” he choked out, “go!”

Somehow your body responded to the sound of his voice and you made a break for the door. There was a part of you that knew you’d never reach it - that knew you’d end up in a worse fate than your friends, but you still tried anyway. Maybe if you left, you would be able to find more help to bring. Maybe you’d run into Phantom or Papa, just someone who could come and save everyone. You refused to believe that they were all dead - you would have given up if you thought that. So for all the good it did you, you chose to run. You chose to fight as best you could.

Behind you, Mountain’s body thudded to the floor, but you could hear him gasping for breath. Swiss, who was now focussing on you trying to make your escape, didn’t put the full extent of his powers into hurting Mountain as he did Dewdrop and Rain. Mountain was weakened from the impact but he wasn’t unconscious… yet. But now you had no protection - now you were completely vulnerable.

You managed to get the door open, but by then, it was too late, Swiss had already come up behind you and slammed it shut again. His large hands grabbed onto your waist, thick fingers digging into your flesh and manoeuvring you to where he wanted you. Your own back slammed against the door and you were met with Swiss’ cold, unfeeling mask, glass eyepieces only showing a glimpse of the blackened eyes that had completely stripped away the humanity from one of your closest friends. His once beautiful smile brought you nothing but happiness now evil and no doubt the last thing you’d ever see. You struggled, fighting against the unholy strength that had caught you, but of course, you were no match for him - in fact, he seemed to enjoy you struggling. In your frantic movements, your hip grazed his and you felt his cock now standing hard beneath his Ghoulish uniform. You knew what was coming.

He cackled, the two voices giving a creepier edge to something so joyous. His free hand came to remove the helmet and allowed you to gaze at the face that was going to bring you so much pain. His eyes were, indeed, as black as you’d been told. Veins were popping from beneath his skin, no doubt Swiss straining from the inside to expel the demon from within but failing miserably. Even though you could hear it wasn’t Swiss, and you could see the eyes certainly weren’t his, it was so difficult to differentiate between demon and human. Your brain struggled reminding you that Swiss wasn’t the one who’d hurt your friends; that he wasn’t the one rubbing his clothed cock against your thigh; that his hand wasn’t squeezing one of your soft breasts so painfully hard; that it wasn’t his tongue licking a stripe from your neck to your ear.

You pushed against his large chest trying to distance yourself, but it was as if you were trying to move the Ministry itself. He wasn’t budging. “Get. Off. Me!” You grunted in your exertion.

“This Ghoul wants you - you would deny him? You would deny him after the show you put on for him?”

“There was no show!”

“Really? Because you angled your body to give him the perfect view of,” the hand that was on your breast now moved to your crotch and gripped your vulva tightly - so tightly you screamed, “this cunt. You wanted him to touch you. You were asking for him to take you. Begging for it, were you not?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Lying whore!” He slapped your face hard enough to leave a mark, the bite knocking you off kilter for a second and making the room spin. He grasped hold of your cheeks and forced you to look at him. He took his opportunity to kiss you, forcefully pressing his mouth to yours and using his tongue to lick over your unresponsive lips. Taking this opportunity, you kneed him in his crotch now extra sensitive from all the blood that had pooled there. This gave you enough respite from his attack to push him away from you and attempt an escape. The door was locked shut this time, though. And it didn’t matter anyway, he was faster than you thought.

His thick forearm wrapped around your neck and pulled your body flush against his. “You like pain, hm?” This time, when he spoke, he used only Swiss’ voice. He tightened his arm and began cutting off the air supply to your lungs. “You want me to make it hurt?”

“Swiss!” You choked from his anaconda-like grasp. “Stop!”

“He cannot help you now, little one. But I have made sure he can see everything.”

With one hand on your shoulder, he released you from his chokehold long enough to push you hard to the ground. As you stumbled and collapsed, you felt the skirt of your habit rising up over your bare ass cheeks, which earned another menacing snicker from the demon. “Look at you. The little Jezebel is ready for her master’s cock.”

“No!”

You got onto your hands and knees ready to stand and run, but you felt Swiss’ boot on your exposed backside and stamping you back down flush to the floor. Wasting no more time or effort, he straddled your hips to keep you pinned down and pressed his entire weight onto you. Over the sound of your struggling, you heard his jeans zipper undoing.

“Still some energy in you, I see.” He taunted as he placed his hands where his thighs were and moved further down your body, still fighting you. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You braved a look behind you to see if there was anything further you could do, but caught a glimpse of what Swiss was sporting under his clothes. Now he was fully exposed, you truly saw his length and girth for what it was and dread pooled in your stomach. The pain you were about to feel was beyond terrifying.

“Which hole should we rape?” Swiss asked, lining himself up with your ass and rubbing against the rim. “This one?”

“No! Please! Let me go!”

“Or this one?” He then rubbed over the entrance to your cunt and gasped. “She is wet! The whore is ready to accept Satan’s gift! She wants it even though she deludes herself otherwise.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ghoul, which hole do you fantasize about the most, hm? Which one do you want us to rape today?” There was silence for a moment and you could swear you heard Swiss’ screams - similar screams to when he was first possessed. “Her tight, little cunt hm?”

He lined up once more with your hole, and you tried again to escape from underneath him. “Swiss! Please stop! Please! No!” Your wriggling proved useless when you felt him press inside you.

The pain was beyond anything you’d felt before, a searing white hot pain that shot through your entire body and only continued the more of him entered you. He wasn’t gentle with his movements, as expected from a demon. He bottomed out almost immediately, hitting your cervix roughly and causing you to scream. “He was right,” Swiss said, “you do feel incredible. This hole was made for cock, no wonder he spent all his time drooling over you.” He pulled out and thrust back in laughing at your pain-filled scream. “I have kept him awake so that he can remember this gift the Unholy Father has bestowed. More material for him to think about in the darkness of his room.”

“Please, stop!” Your voice was high pitched now and tears were staining your cheeks as your hands covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Your distraught sobs caught the demon’s attention, however, and he wanted his gratification.

He wrapped Swiss’ hand in your hair and tugged your face off the floor. Your mouth was hung open from your weeping and your screams escaped every time he thrust in and hit your cervix. “That is right, scream for him. Let him know how good you feel on his cock.” The sound of your cunt swallowing him made him speed up his movements, entirely enthralled by your body accepting him properly. “Show him how you love being raped by his fat cock.”

“P-please stop!”

He groaned. “Keep begging for me to stop. Keep crying for me. You get tighter every. Single. Time.” He thrust between each word, getting rougher and rougher with you.

With his hand in your hair, your head was lifted and you could look around the room. As your body was pushed along the floor by the power of his hips, your tears blurred your vision but you could still see your friends laying lifeless in front of you - spread in all manner of ways. None of them could save you. None of them could help you. If they were even alive. Your thoughts turned to Phantom, outside of this room searching for someone to come and exorcise the demon back to Hell. Your fear became overpowering at the thought of the sweet newcomer walking in and seeing you pinned beneath Swiss, being raped by someone you all used to love and trust. Would anyone else understand that this wasn’t Swiss hurting you? Would Swiss even survive the exorcism?

In a moment of adrenaline from the fear you felt, you shifted your body using all the strength you could muster. You wrapped your legs around his calves, swung your arm to hit his face and proceeded to turn as if you were about to lie on your back. Swiss didn’t anticipate this and so slipped out of you for a brief moment, falling off of you. Wasting no time, your weak legs forced you onto your feet and you ran towards the door once more. Your brain was clearer than before allowing you to unlock the door this time. But as you opened it, once again, Swiss pushed it closed.

“Clearly I have not broken you yet.”

By the collar of your habit, he pulled you back to give him the space to stand in front of you. His hand, now tightly closed in a fist, backhanded your cheek and all you saw was black.

When you came to, your jaw ached so badly. Your vision was blurred and it took a while to come to. Your hands were held above your head as you lay on your back, a large hand holding them together and restraining you. As your head was turned to its side, you saw Mountain and Rain laying next to each other, still entirely unconscious and unmoving. But you were still being attacked.

Now that you were pinned to the floor, and had been out for you didn’t know how long, Swiss had chance to fully savour you. Your habit had been torn town the middle, exposing you completely to the demonic eyes you were now staring into, those very eyes entranced by the way your breasts bounced from the roughness of his thrusts. His cock was now spearing into you much harder than before, the position allowing him to fuck into you deeper. His pubic mound was grinding against your clit as he pounded away, and for the first time that night you were feeling pleasure with the pain.

“I knew you wanted this.” Swiss said from above you upon hearing the small pleasured whimper that escaped you. “I knew you were a whore who loved getting raped. How you would spread your legs for anyone who offered you a bit of attention. I am not wrong, am I?” You moaned again accidentally, this time louder. “Say it. Tell me how much you love it. Tell him that you love it when he rapes you.” When you didn’t obey, he wrapped his hands around your throat. “Say it!”

“I love it!” You shouted reluctantly. “I love being raped!”

Somehow this wasn’t a lie. Since waking up, every hit against your cervix, every drag of his cock against your walls felt delicious. The demonic black of his eyes, the thick hands that held you down had you spreading your legs wider to let him continue abusing your hole. You were getting wetter and wetter with each thrust, more desperate to cum than ever before. You fear dissipated and was replaced with nothing but cock. The weight of it driving you crazy, the way he used you for his own pleasure and revelled in your agony. How he lowered himself to lick your tears away and bury himself inside you over and over again.

“There you go. That was not difficult. You got so much tighter too.”

Your screams turned from pain to desperation. Your mouth hung open in a perfect O. His cock had broken you, stripped you of everything and turned you into his own, personal toy. You sat up as much as you could to see where you both were connected. You saw the base of his cock was rimmed with white where your wetness had turned to cream and stuck in his pubic hairs. Each pull out of you had multiple strings of your own juices forming and snapping. You could feel yourself spilling out of your hole and running down your body, gathering on the wooden floor below you. Fuck! It felt so fucking good.

“Will you cum on his cock? Will you cum on the cock that rapes you?”

“Yes!” You screamed looking back up into his eyes. “I’m gonna c-cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!”

The door opened right as your orgasm hit, your mind clouding over and drool dripping from your mouth as you came all over Swiss’ cock. The last thing you remember seeing was Papa Copia’s eyes look into yours in horror as you came like a desperate whore while your close friend took you against your will. Then the world went black.

When you came to, your eyes refused to open at first. Your head was pounding from the physical trauma and there was a deep-seated pain in your core that sent stabbing pains through your legs every time you moved them.You groaned and tried to sit up but your body refused to respond. The heart monitor beside you kept bleeping letting you know that you were, in fact, alive, but also that you were currently in the infirmary. But there was another sound coming from the foot of your incredibly uncomfortable bed. When your eyes finally opened it took you a while to fully process what you were seeing.

Swiss.

In a moment of pure fear, you panicked and tried to move further up the bed, as far away from him as you possibly could. You could feel a scream building in your throat, but your jaw hurt you too much to move it. Even still, your fear didn’t care. Swiss’ eyes were back to normal, and glassy with unshed tears. His face, pale and sickly, stained with the tears he had cried. He looked awful - his veins tinted a little black from the pressure of the demon inhabiting his body.

“Please, don’t scream!” He said quickly. “It’s me again. The demon’s gone.” You wanted to open your mouth and ask him what he was doing there, but your jaw wouldn’t move. “Your jaw isn’t broken, but it’s badly bruised from where I…” He started crying again, burying his head on your bed. “I’m so fucking sorry!” He wept hard, your heart breaking for him every time you saw his shoulders violently shake. “I hurt you so b-bad. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t want to do any of th-those things. I tried - I tried to stop but it was t-too… strong. It w-wasn’t me!”

Deep down you knew it wasn’t. You knew Swiss would never hurt you like that because he never had. He’d never shown that level of ferocity and violence to anyone or anything. He was the kindest soul in the Ministry - a ray of sunlight the morning after a storm. Before all of this, you would have trusted him with anything, your life included. But even though reason told you he wasn’t the monster that attacked you, your brain still registered him as the attacker. When you saw his eyes before he hid them, you could have sworn for a brief moment they were still black. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay and you forgave him even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. But there was such a hesitation. An annoying voice in the back of your head saying “what if”? What if that really was him? What if they didn’t exorcise the demon out? They must have otherwise he’d be in chains in the dungeons right now. So, you reached your hand out and touched his head, gently stroking at his hair. Tears were falling down your face too as your brain replayed the trauma.

When you both had calmed down a little, and Swiss was no longer hiding his face from you, you both sat in silence staring at each other. You were studying his face for imperfections and signals that he was unsafe, and he was studying yours for any hints of fear that should tell him he needed to go. “I know it’s selfish of me being here.” He said. “It only happened yesterday. I’m not supposed to be here. Papa’s going to come and talk to you when you’re feeling stronger, he wants you to decide my punishment.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to punish him.

“Everyone else is fine. Dew has a broken shoulder but he’ll live. Rain has concussion. Mountain’s up and out of the infirmary with no problems at all.” Your mind cast itself back to yesterday, watching Swiss barrel through them and throw them around like children’s toys. How helpless you felt when he was inside you and they were all in the room, knocked out from his attack. How none of them helped you.

“I shouldn’t have come but I needed to see you. I feel so guilty. I…” he hesitated. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I felt everything the de- he did to you. I heard everything, saw everything, felt everything. And you felt so… especially when… fuck! I know I shouldn’t but I keep remembering and my body reacts. I’ve used my hand so many times since but nothing compares to… I need it. I need you. One more time. Please.”

There was a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach again but you could understand where he was coming from. Since you’d been awake and your mind was showing you the images from yesterday, you were also losing your mind. You remembered everything in graphic detail, especially how good it felt when you woke up on the floor. Arousal began to replace the dread and your thighs rubbed together, making you hiss in pain. But the pain and the arousal seemed to control you, and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you nodded your head.

Swiss didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back the comforter and climbed onto the bed. He lifted up the infirmary nightgown you were wearing and exposed your abused hole to him. You could see his cock tenting through his own nightgown at the sight of you. You were so broken and vulnerable, and it did things to him he knew he’d feel guilty for later on. But he just couldn’t resist any longer. It was like he was addicted to you. To it. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” He told you. He lifted your gown further up to expose your breasts again before pulling himself free and lining himself up. You wanted to tell him to not be gentle, to disrespect you like he had yesterday, but the words couldn’t come out.

Pushing into you, you felt the same searing pain you felt the first time he did. You were so under prepared yesterday and even more so today. But after a few uncomfortable thrusts, the pleasure returned once more, and your hands, now finally responding, flew to his shoulders and grasped on, digging your nails into his skin.

His mouth had hung open and his own grunts and moans were escaping as he lost himself in the pleasure and the memory of your fear. You were deprived of this yesterday - and you were convinced that if you’d heard how good he felt, you’d have given up fighting long before you did.

“You feel even better than yesterday.” He muttered. His thrusts got rougher and you could feel the infirmary bed moving beneath you, groaning at the weight and the intense movement. “I kept thinking about how wet you got. The way you creamed on my fucking cock. I came twice to that thought alone. Fuck!”

Though your jaw was in pain, you were still able to whimper from the feeling of his fat cock railing you in a similar fashion to yesterday. Your own noises kept spurring him on.

“And when you screamed, yelling out how much you loved me raping you. Fucking hell. I want to hear it again. I want to hear you beg me to rape you over and fucking over. I want to keep you speared on my cock and make you cum on it because I just won’t stop raping you.”

You tightened at the thought, which made him let out a particularly loud moan.

“You want that, too?”

You nodded.

“Fuck. You want me to turn you into a little fucking rape toy, hm? A fuck-slut that’s only good for taking my fucking cum against her will. Have you beg me to stop while also sucking my cock back into your little hole.”

You dug your nails in again which prompted his hips to smack forward and whack your cervix.

“I’ll do it. Shit. I’ll find you when you’re out of the infirmary and I’ll force you to the fucking floor. I’ll take what I want from you when I want. You want that?”

You nodded.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum again. I came inside you yesterday too. They had a hard time pulling me off you. I just kept holding onto your hips and railing you into the floor. I’m gonna keep doing it now. Use you as my fucking cum receptacle. Rape a baby into you too. Show everyone who this hole belongs to.”

You tightened and moaned again.

“I went feral when they pulled me off of you and I saw my cum spilling out. Proof that I’d - fuck I’m cu-cumming!”

Once again he pushed himself as far into you as he possibly could and stilled, painting your walls with his seed.

No one else had ever made you feel that good before. The fact that he was recreating the shared trauma also did things to you that you couldn’t quite explain. You knew he was suffering as much as you were, that the guilt was eating away at him in the same way the fear was. Maybe that was why you willingly spread your legs for him this time, because you needed someone who knew to make you feel good.

When he’d finished, he watched himself spilling out of you. “Fuck…” he lamented. “No tissues. You didn’t cum.”

You wanted to tell him not to bother, that a nurse might show up midway through. You knew how bad it would look that the man who’d raped you had come back for seconds not twenty-four hours after the incident. But even if you could speak, he wouldn’t listen.

He bent down and placed his tongue in your hole, licking his cum out of you. He swirled his tongue around your cunt, trying to find the parts of you that would tip you over the edge. Once he’d determined that you were clean enough, he moved up to your clit and sucked. Hard. It was like he knew that his treatment of you yesterday meant that you needed it rough today too, and so he did his best to deliver. He didn’t let up until you came on his face, your own juices spilling out of you. You did your best to muffle the scream that was threatening to come out of you as you tipped over the edge, hyper-aware of the fact that a nurse could come rushing in to make sure you were okay. Swiss knew this too and so finished up as quickly as he possibly could.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded and watched him press a kiss to your temple, completely juxtaposing his treatment of you both yesterday and today before making his exit back to his own ward.

You watched him leave and let your eyes wander around the room. That was when you noticed it and froze in panic. There was a security camera in the top corner of the room… and it had just captured everything.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

Hellish Delights:

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

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hypnoneghoul · 2 months ago

Text

Bones in Traction

WC: 3k

Relationship: Dewdrop/Rain, Aether, Mountain, Cirrus, Aurora, Aeon, Swiss

Tags: Transmasc Dew, Disabled Rain, Transmasc Rain, Grinding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Come Eating, Orgasm Denial, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Fluff, Biting, Marking, Cunnilingus

Ghoul sexualizing Dewdrop's pointy hips in different ways. That's it, that's the fic.

Notes: Commissioned by @everybodyshusband!!! Most of the ideas come from this post, especially tags by @iamthecomet @foolish-iscariot @littlemoon-beam @ghoul-slime @kelthebarb @jesusbutbetterrr and felix himself. also @delusionalbitchinthehouse asked to be tagged :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Dewdrop’s hip bones are very prominent; it is no secret.

There aren't many options for them to be hidden—baggy pants or an oversized hoodie only, really, if he actually does want to hide them. It’s rare, the need to do so nagging at him when the mean voice in the back of his head tells him he’s too skinny; unworthy of even being called a ghoul.

Most of the time, though, they’re put on full display and Dewdrop’s pack can never get enough.

Rain is an avid enjoyer of many things sexual; there’s not many things he wouldn’t do. Because of that it surprises people to find out he has a soft spot for simple…grinding. Half the toys he owns are colorful fantasy grinders of different designs and densities; there’s just something about dragging his wet cunt back and forth over them that makes the water ghoul go a little stupid.

His body doesn’t always agree with him, though.

Sometimes he just can’t muster up the strength to work for an orgasm in such a way, sometimes the pain radiating from his joints and muscles is too strong for him to move. Laying on his back and using his hands to reverse-grind doesn’t scratch the itch quite the same, and sometimes even that is too much for him.

That’s when Dewdrop comes in.

“How do you want me, fish boy?” he asks, pressing himself against Rain’s body gently. He delivers a soft kiss to his cheek and nuzzles into it, waiting for instructions. Dewdrop can brat alright but he knows when to be a good boy and help his water ghoul.

“Can you–” Rain sighs, “your hips?”

Dewdrop doesn’t reply verbally; he just nods and slides down the bed. They are way past having to explain anything like this to each other. Rain watches with a desperate look as the fire ghoul gets rid of all his clothes—every little patch of newly revealed skin makes him breathe a little heavier.

Rain lets his legs fall to the side to accommodate Dewdrop. He knows what to do by now; he grabs them gently and pulls them up to hook around his waist. The water ghoul sighs in relief at having his legs elevated and heated up by Dewdrop’s fire ghoul body.

He stretches up to kiss Rain on his parted lips as he angles himself properly. He drops his hips slightly until the left pointy part of his ilium bone presses against the water ghoul’s damp cunt.

Rain sighs at the contact but it quickly turns into a moan when Dewdrop starts to move; dragging the sharp bone over his mate’s chubby clit.

“So good, baby, thank you,” Rain whines. His chest warms up when he sees the contented little smile on Dewdrop’s face—the fire ghoul is always happy to please his mate and get praised in return.

Once he gets Rain off, he’ll work his own cunt over the water ghoul’s thigh and make their sheets that much wetter.

Aether and Mountain are equally insane about Dewdrop’s size in comparison to them.

The latter goes crazy for the way Dewdrop looks—as if he could be snapped in half any second. It’s only the appearance, of course, but if Mountain thinks too much about it his pants will get tight anyway.

The quintessence ghoul is similar, albeit for him it’s more about being able to feel Dewdrop in that slightly strange way. The way pale skin stretches over sharp bones all over the fire ghoul’s body makes Aether’s eyes roll back into his head.

Dewdrop’s hip bones, specifically, have the most power over both Aether and Mountain.

“You’re so small, firefly,” the quintessence ghoul grunts, slowly fucking in and out of Dewdrop’s ass. Both his holes are drooling, dripping onto Aether’s cock and easing his slide. He’s so thick the fire ghoul feels filled to the very brim, unable to take more or even breathe. “So little under me, look–just look at these.”

These are, of course, Dewdrop’s hip bones. Aether grabs them, all but pinches them between his thumb and pointer finger on both sides. It feels weird, it always does—especially if he squeezes.

It’s so fucking weird, just…just holding his bones like that.

Dewdrop knows the concept shouldn’t be as hot to him as it is.

“Our little fire lily,” Mountain sighs, running his fingers through Dewdrop’s sweaty hair where he’s pillowing his head. His other hand is wrapped tightly around his own cock, stroking to the same rhythm that Aether fucks the fire ghoul in.

They’ve been at it for a while—like always, without rush. The urgency only comes when all their noises rise in pitch and volume.

The quintessence ghoul drags one of his hands from Dewdrop’s hip to his clit and rubs him to completion. He moans through it and squeezes Aether’s cock, bringing him to the edge, too.

He pulls out with a grunt just as he’s about to cum, making Dewdrop whine in overstimulation. The quintessence looks down at where the nearly purple head of his cock lays against Dewdrop’s pale skin and gives exactly one hump against one of his hip bones before he’s cumming. His cum fills the little divots by the bone and Mountain drools from where he’s watching Aether’s cock spill. He speeds up the movements of his hand around his cock and waits for the quintessence ghoul to go down from his high.

“All for you, Mount,” Aether tells him and backs up. Mountain trills happily, low in his throat, and slots his cock against Dewdrop’s shin. His head goes to the fire ghoul’s hip and he shoots the moment he lays his hand over it—it’s the way its shape fits in his palm. He leans down as he shudders through the aftershocks to lick up Aether’s cum.

“Such good boys,” he praises the both of them.

In no time Mountain will fall asleep with his cheek slotted perfectly against the curve of Dewdrop’s pointy hip bone. Aether’s hand will lay over the other one as the fire ghoul snores between them; all blissed out and happy.

Cirrus sees the fire ghoul’s bony hips as just another way for her to be cruel.

She will get him worked up with quiet words and little passing touches, promise to fuck his brains out with her biggest strap, but then–

“Cir–Cirrus, please,” Dewdrop begs. Again. “Stick it in somewhere that matters, fuck.”

“Oh, spitfire, but this is working so well!” she laughs. It’s cruel. It might be working for her considering the attached vibrator buzzing against her clit and the dildo snug inside her, sure, but the fire ghoul is in misery.

Cirrus thrusts forward again, bumping the head of the strap-on against the arch of Dewdrop’s hip bone. She didn’t put any lube on it so she could really rub the fake cock against the fire ghoul’s sensitive skin, and, indeed, she’s been torturing him for long enough that the usual pale gray turned into an irritated pinkish one.

Dewdrop has to admit Cirrus is creative when it comes to finding new methods to torture her pack.

The exaggerated noises spilling from her mouth as she works herself over on the toys against and inside her are making the pit in Dewdrop’s stomach deepen, as he only lays there with no stimulation whatsoever. He can barely bring himself to beg anymore, but he’s getting closer and closer to the point of a real sexually-frustrated breakdown.

Cirrus, as on cue, turns off her vibrator before throwing her legs over Dewdrop’s and crawling up his small form. He looks up at her with a somewhat terrified expression—one can never know what she’s really up to.

Cirrus straddles his chest and shoves another pillow under his head to get a better angle before grabbing his jaw and squeezing to forcefully open his mouth. Not like he wouldn’t open it willingly—of course he would; he and his oral fixation.

“There we go, all wide for me,” she coos as she pushes her strap into his mouth.

“That’s not–what I–meant!” Dewdrop gurgles around it, spitting out the words when Cirrus pulls back in between her thrusts.

“We gotta get it wet if you want me to stick it anywhere else, spitfire,” she sighs. The fire ghoul can’t argue with that, unfortunately. He may be plenty slick on his own, but he definitely does not want to find out what Cirrus could do to him with a dry dildo.

She fucks his mouth for a little while, cooing over him and petting his messy hair. All Dewdrop can do is stare up at her with glassy eyes and fight his gag reflex.

In no time at all Cirrus pulls out and gets off of him entirely, though. Dewdrop whines at the loss of contact, but the ghoulette returns soon enough. She grabs his ankles in one hand and lifts his legs to take a good look at his holes. Dewdrop whines at the strain on his muscles as she all but bends him in half.

“Now,” she hums, considering, “where do I stick it in, hm?”

The fire ghoul has no doubt there is a long night ahead of him.

Aurora likes to feel Dewdrop’s hip bones pressing into her soft tummy when he fucks her.

The two small ghouls love to explore many different positions, but both their favorite is a simple missionary with Aurora on the literal and technical bottom. Dewdrop clad in nothing but his harness with a decently sized pink dildo attached—the ghoulette’s favorite.

Sometimes her own hip bones will grind against his. It’s not a pleasant feeling in the slightest because of how thin the skin between them is, but it shoots something hot down both their spines anyway.

And makes Dewdrop speed up his movements to throw them over the edge.

The fire ghoul loves wandering his hands all over Aurora’s body when they have sex, especially her tits. They’re not much bigger than his own, but he doesn’t mind. Neither of them does.

Dewdrop adores laying one hand on Aurora’s own sharp hip and the other on her boob, but his favorite is simply planting his face between them or sucking one of them as his hips work. He’ll knead and suck and bite a little, leaving fang marks and hickeys all around the ghoulette’s breasts. She’ll return the favor sometimes, but it’s Dewdrop that simply has to have something in his mouth at all times and, well, who wouldn’t want pretty ghoulette tits in their mouth?

The fire ghoul mouths along the column of her throat, going down from her lips to his prize. Aurora sighs and moans and whimpers sweetly under him and it’s all music to his ears.

“Fucking me so well, Dewy,” she sighs, arching her back into Dewdrop’s touch some more, pressing their hips closer together. A quiet trill escapes his mouth at the praise and her hand gently combing through his hair as he slides back in at a perfect angle to hit the ghoulette’s sweet spot. They have each other all mapped out, outside and inside, by now.

Aurora digs her claws around Dewdrop’s ilium on both sides. She knows they’ll leave little indents, maybe even tiny wounds if she manages to pierce his skin. She’d like that and the fire ghoul would, too—she gets jealous seeing all the marks on his hips from other ghouls. Swiss’ work is always so clearly recognizable; she wants something that screams her.

She’ll come up with something, sooner or later, but for now she’ll wrap her arms around Dewdrop and squeeze to bring him closer; to feel his hips digging into hers.

Aeon’s eyes sparkle at the sight of Dewdrop’s hip bones for an entirely different reason than most of their packs’.

To the young quintessence ghoul they are just…cool.

His own are quite prominent, too, but he’s not interested in them in the slightest. No, it’s Dewdrop’s hip bones that he loves. Aeon has never explained it; said he doesn’t know how. He just loves touching them whenever he can.

In the morning when Dewdrop comes down to the kitchen with a low slung sweatpants and stretches with a yawn.

During a rehearsal when he simply has to rub himself against the fire ghoul’s back and shove his hands under his arms and guitar just to squeeze them.

In the evening when they fuck; no matter the position Aeon’s hands will always find their way to Dewdrop’s hips.

At night when they sleep, cuddled up—all but tangled—together, the quintessence ghoul holding them like a beloved stuffed animal.

“Why do you love them so much?” Dewdrop asks one time. He and Aeon have been watching a movie in his bed; it has ended ages ago, but neither had or has any willpower to move away and put something else on. They’re snuggled up, both purring loudly, so it’s understandable.

Aeon, of course, sneaked his hand under Dewdrop’s sweatpants a while ago and has been absentmindedly rubbing his hip bone all that time.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, “but they’re a part of you so…that’s enough for me.”

If the young quintessence ghoul can feel how Dewdrop’s body gets hotter at his words, he doesn’t mention it. It's insane how much love Aeon still has inside him.

“I love you, too,” the fire ghoul says, trying his best to hide how flustered he is. Aeon hums in acknowledgement and leans up to place a lazy kiss just under Dewdrop’s jaw. They’re both so warm and soft, any more movement feels like too much.

It’s quiet—apart from their purring—for the next…while. Time doesn’t matter in the slightest, they’re enjoying the laziness.

Aeon is a sweet ghoul, despite everything that has happened to him. He’s not even aware how admirable he is; having gone through so much and still being capable of affection, of laughing and smiling, of purring in another’s arms.

Dewdrop doesn’t praise him nearly enough, scared of his own feelings, but in moments like this he has no filter.

“You’re so brave, bug,” he mumbles. Aeon perks up with a little questioning hum, but the fire ghoul doesn’t offer an explanation; he just goes on. “So sweet and caring and soft. I love you so much, you know that? I know I’m harsh sometimes and I blame it on my past, but–but you are the purest creature there is. I was scared to let you in, but now I can’t imagine my—our—life without you here.”

Aeon’s stunned. It’s not the first time he’s been told similar things, but he’s never gotten better at accepting them. His purrs get lower and deeper and he snuggles in even closer to Dewdrop, wrapping himself all around him and digging his fingers into his hips.

Maybe it's just Aeon’s love language and one does not question that.

Swiss gets absolutely feral about Dewdrop’s hips, as he tends to do about many things that wouldn’t be typically considered sexual. He always blames it on his multi ghoul nature.

Anything that comes to mind that could be highlighted about the fire ghoul’s hips—Swiss loves it. The way they feel against his own stomach when they fuck, the way they feel under his hands when he eats the fire ghoul out, the way they look when he lays breathless in their nest.

When in an unexpected heat on stage once, Swiss dared to run up to Dewdrop and put his hands on him as he rubbed his cock against his ass. To most it looked like the multi ghoul was aiming for Dewdrop’s junk—whatever the fans think he’s got—but the truth is he craved to grab his hips.

Yes, Swiss really enjoys them and, most of all, he loves marking them up.

He’ll take any opportunity to suck at the thin skin covering the bones and turn them purple, to pierce it with his fangs and watch a thin trail of blood flowing down the sharp side.

“Swiss, Swiss, oh–fuck,” Dewdrop moans, clenching on the multi ghoul’s tongue. Swiss’ big hands are placed over his hips; using them as handles and to keep the other from wriggling too much. He hums against the fire ghoul’s cunt and it goes straight to his clit—making his first orgasm of the night wash over him. “Cumming–oh, fuck, shit, ah!”

Swiss smirks—always proud of himself. He’s going to give Dewdrop a moment for the overstimulation to pass, for him to rest a bit before they go again—it was only the beginning, Swiss didn’t even touch himself yet. This gives him a perfect little moment to move up and put him mouth on Dewdrop’s hip bones instead.

“There’s my girls,” he mutters before kissing first one and then the other pointy bone. Dewdrop would laugh or roll his eyes if the aftershocks of his orgasm weren’t still making him tremble. Ages ago he would have thought that by ‘my girls’ Swiss meant the fire ghoul’s tiny tits, but…well.

Swiss latches his mouth onto one of his hip bones and sucks, teasing it with his fangs and tongue, and scratching the skin around them with his stubble. Dewdrop squirms under him, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath. Swiss doesn’t care much; it’s his play time.

By the time he leaves one side of the fire ghoul’s hips a deep red and purple and moves on to make the other match, Dewdrop is wiggling for an entirely different reason.

“Okay, fuck, enough,” the fire ghoul breathes out, “‘m ready, get it in. Fuck me.”

Well, how could Swiss say no to such a pretty request? He grins and obliges; only once satisfied with how his hip bones are looking, though.

Everyone’s love for Dewdrop’s hip bones is certainly a little strange, but what matters is that it comes down to one thing: the whole pack loving their fire ghoul just the way he is, even if he doesn’t always love himself.

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #hypnone's disabled ghouls

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thelampisaflashlight · 2 months ago

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Tender

Dew wakes up, sore from the crushing weight of his own flesh and bone; His hips ache from the way he lays on his side, pressed into the mattress that has dipped too low to press back against the bend of the joint.

Tired, exposed now to the cold air of his bedroom, he rises, and soothes a sleep warm hand over the parts of him that hurt the most.

Temporary relief for pain that will follow him throughout the day.

He rolls his shoulders and feels the crunch of his neck, dry lips parting to let out a groan of relief.

Quietly, another set of hands snake around his waist, hot against his bare skin.

"Let me help?" Mountain asks, his voice rough and coarse as gravel as he tugs him down to the bed, and Dew can do nothing but let him take him down.

"Be gentle..." Dew sighs, feeling the tickle of the earth ghoul's calloused hands against his tender body, "...please."

And, oh, the sound he makes when his back is pressed to his chest, the heat of it sending a tingle down the length of his spine.

A whine that turns to a whimpers as fingers tense and knead tight muscles until the knots unravel.

"Can I...?" the question trails off into a yawn, and they both laugh.

Dew shifts and rolls in his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he finally sees his face, "Can you?"

A giggle, another sigh.

"...I could certainly try..." Mountain sniffs through another yawn, "...Or we could go back to sleep."

Dew kinks his leg over Mountain's hip and hums, "Sleep."

Mountain smiles, closing his eyes to nuzzle his face into Dew's hair, inhaling the soft aroma of his shampoo.

"Sounds good."

#lamp writes #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #ghost bc #ghost band #the band ghost #mountain/dew #mountain x dewdrop

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tremendum · 2 years ago

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fever

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.5k summary: but at the timbre of your voice, a cold shiver runs down his spine. his eyes widen in acceptance. there must have been some sort of- poison, or aphrodisiac in that damn plant that you'd both been struck with. warnings: SMUT. dubcon (sex pollen), age gap (not specified), use of the word ‘girl’, friends(ish) to lovers, canon-typical mentions of violence, needles/getting pricked by a plant, descriptions of canon-typical injuries, unprotected PiV sex, kinda rough, creampie, light cumplay, oral (f and m recieving), a fair amount of begging, dacryphilia, size kink, overstimulation, voyeur Joel if you squint just for a sec, facefucking, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, some spanking, choking, reader gets slapped on the cheek like once, dom!joel miller, spit kink, fingering, dirty talk/slight degradation if you squint, light praise, this is just basically porn with no plot, they’ve got feelings for each other but they’re in denial, ellie is in this in the beginning but doesn’t hear them thank GOD, notes: this is my first work for Joel and though I never finished the first game, the release of the TV series inspired me bc i am a SLU T for pedro lmao. this is terribly unedited because I just forgot i took edibles after i smoked and cranked this out in an hour and a half so sorry if it’s choppy or a bit ooc for joel. ALSO IF IM MISSING WARNINGS PLS MESSAGE ME

★

"whose brilliant idea was this?"

you say it from behind Joel, the echo of your boots splashing through the tunnel as you look around you, your eyes sneaking to observe the width of his shoulders, the stretch of his shirt over the muscles.

Joel can't stop the twist of his lips as he grumbles back at you, "yours." he mutters, rolling his eyes.

his flashlight cuts through the darkness in front of you two, scaling over the walls that grow slimy with repeated dew and rainwater, algae sprawling over the pipes and reaching its fingers down towards your shoes. he doesn't like being down here, it's too quiet, damp, dark. perfect for cordyceps to grow.

you let out a soft, amused hum at his words that coaxes a bubble of irritation through Joel - you'd always been stubborn, from the day he'd first laid eyes on you; a young thing at the time, baring teeth you thought were sharp but really just looked like a little doe snapping its jaw at him.

it's been long enough with you around now that Joel knows you better than he's willing to admit, and maybe also knows himself than he would ever say out loud - because you're still that stubborn fireball of a woman and he's still the tired old man who you find amusing to tease. and he likes it, deep deep down.

"yeah, maybe just letting it go was the better option." you muse from behind him, voice still somehow dripping like honey though the sloshing of the sewer provided nothing but unpleasantries for the group of you. he turns to spare a glare at you; you were already smirking at him. setting him up, then lying in wait.

a damn minx.

he sighs, looking away: sure, he wants you, of course he does - you were spry, beautiful, intelligent, and resourceful. but you were stubborn, and butted heads with him more than rams did in mating season. still, there'd been too many lingering glances, suggestive phrases, and gentle caresses for it to be a coincidence. he could tell that when you watched him split wood or help teach you to shoot a gun that you were probably soaked through your panties, and that made him hard as a rock when he allowed himself to think about it once in a blue moon.

but that doesn't matter, because in a world that wasn't like this one - without the danger, pain, the necessities to survive - a girl like you would never bat a fucking eye at a man like him.

and he's got more important things to think about than how tight you'd feel around his cock, how well you'd take his orders with his hand around your throat.

but your words not only fall to his ears - from where Ellie hangs upside down from the storm drain, she snorts, "you spent that whole time back there arguing with him just to decide he was right?" she boasts. at this, you grab her arm, pretending to pull her down from above your head and into the storm drain with you and Joel. a splashing noise and a squeal echoes through the tunnel as your boots slosh; Joel turns back with irritation, about to snap at the two to keep quiet.

but you're grinning, eyes reaching his from where you stand, covered in storm drain water. Ellie's flipped upside-down, hanging from the ceiling with a grin of amusement, her arm slack in your grip.

your shirt is wet, slick against your plush skin around your stomach and breasts, your hair stuck to your cheeks and forehead and neck. slowly, you bend down to pick the axe out of the murky water, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you shake the water from its hilt. he has to tear his eyes away from the flash of the lacy underwear that peeks from the waistline of your jeans.

Joel's breathing is almost stutters - you’re a goddamn sight right now, and if the tightening in Joel's jeans meant anything, it's that he needed to look away.

"it doesn't matter. you got your axe, now we need to get out of here." he mutters, tired of letting you convince him to do asinine decisions like try and crawl into a storm drain to fetch the axe you'd accidentally dropped. your lips pull into a tight line and he ignores the twist of fire in his stomach at your gaze, the smirk as you try to conceal your laughter. it just irritates him even more.

he watches with sharp eyes as Ellie starts to pull you up and out of the drain; he's trained with a flashlight and his rifle pointed towards the depths beyond you, into the unknown area of the drain. your head is almost out of his sight when it happens: you twitch suddenly and let out a yelp, "fuck!" you hiss. Joel's rushing towards you, calling your name.

you groan, pulling yourself up with the aid of Ellie as you mutter, "'m fine Joel, something stung me."

stung you? he looks around, flashlight searching the area for any animal or insect or other threat - nothing. but when you're clear of the drain, obscured by the dilapidated road above his head, Joel hears Ellie let out an interested but disgusted noise. his gun goes first, then the flashlight. he pulls himself up and as he nearly breaches the light of the Earth, a sharp sting attaches to his thigh, coaxing a grunt of shock from his lips as he pulls himself fully out.

you're laying, soaked on the hot pavement, Ellie staring at you with wide eyes as you inspect your calf. there's a barb on it with spikes that look almost like a cactus of sorts, bright purple and speckled with yellow. Joel doesn't have to look down to see his own thigh impaled with the spokes of the same plant. he tilts his head back, hand scrubbing his face with a deep sigh. damn it.

"what is that?" Ellie asks, eyes wide as Joel quickly pulls out the plant from his flesh with the flannel he'd tied around his pack. "don't!" he chastises as your bare hands move towards the spoked on your calf, and your eyes soon shoot up to him. "did y'touch a plant down there? or anything?" he asks, trying to ensure this wasn't anything toxic or lethal, or god forbid, a mutation of the cordyceps.

but if it had been, there'd have been signs of it. pulsing, infecteds even - but this was a plant Joel has never seen before.

"obviously" you grunt, shooting him a glare, "I wouldn't fucking touch something growing if I didn't know it was safe." you snark. he knows you hate it when he treats you like a child - you've said as much to him before, and loudly - but he can't help the protectiveness he feels for you. your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, "but it shot out barbs towards me. I wasn't even close to it, you saw me." you defend.

Joel's throat clenches, his chest swimming with a warm feeling as the tingling sensation on his thigh lingers far after he'd pulled the barb from his jeans. he needed to get that thing out of you, too. you watch him as he pulls it out of your leg swiftly, Ellie sitting back on her haunches as she watches.

"we should clean these out." Joel decides, standing up and grabbing his gun and discarded flashlight, sending a glare down to the axe that sits glinting in the sun. just what he needs, another thorn in his side. literally.

the walk back to the house was much less exciting for you as it had been before the little romp with Joel in the sewer. the sun is hot beating down on your backs, and your dampness just exacerbates the mustiness of the storm drain's water soaking into your skin.

your calf is starting to vibrate, almost - although your heart twists with worry, you eye Joel's back and he seems fairly normal. so, you keep going, ignoring the heat that starts to consume you. your head aches by the time you round your last corner to get back.

Ellie's in her own world, kicking a rock as the house nears your sights: you'd landed here early this morning, some people who knew Joel before had lived here: they were gone now.

but it had beds, water that could be heated, and a collection of weapons and supplies stocked higher than your head.

so as you settle your things into the living room, you smile, digging into your pack to fish out the scraps of soap you'd saved, enough for several washes each of you were liberal with it. "so, who gets it first?" you say with a grin, unable to contain the excitement in your voice at the prospect of getting clean. Ellie jumps up, grinning with glee.

"dibs on going last!" she whistles, pulling a dry stare from both Joel and you. she shrugs, "what, don't want to be yelled at for takin' my time." she grumbles, flopping down on the couch, sofa releasing a plume of dust.

you lift a brow, "there's a second tub down here, isn't there?" you ask. Joel nods, eyes flickering to Ellie, "then you can take the tub down here. but only use a bit of hot water." he chides.

she rolls her eyes as he points a stern finger her way, swiping a piece of the soap you'd held out to her as she hauls her bag behind her, "relax, old man." she mutters, shaking her head as she disappears, "I'll let it run cold before I get out."

your eyes fall on to Joel, who sighs, nodding to the upstairs bathroom. "you go." he says dismissively. you chew on your lip, trying to figure a way out of taking the first bath: you needed to inspect this sting first. "no, i can wait. 's fine." you shrug, the feverish heat on your body not helping yourself to focus.

his hands run to the back of his neck, massaging a spot; your eyes are glued to the muscles that ripple from the movement, the long fingers thick and rough from a lifetime of hard work. you shudder, arousal pooling at the apex of your thighs easily. you swallow, embarrassed - why were you having such an odd reaction to this plant? it was making you feel fuzzy, feverish; the only thing you can focus on is Joel.

he shakes his head, "nonsense. ladies first." he insists, not meeting your eyes. you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, his abnormal attempt at chivalry - you laugh a bit. he glares at you, but there's no heat.

"since when have you been one for chivalry, Joel?" you ask, shaking your head with a smirk. it's sweet, because despite the horror of reality, there were still times when that charming Southern Man that Joel probably once was peeks through the cold, hard exterior.

rare but not unheard of were the times he'd hold a door open, or say ma'am - but it seems that all that remains of his past is that damn smooth accent and the broken watch he keeps on his wrist at all times.

he rolls his eyes but says nothing. his face looks red, and you almost bring up the pulsing at the site of that plant's needle; instead, you bite your tongue. you need a moment to analyze it, alone - and to get your thoughts straight, to - to not think about him.

"you can take first, Joel. I prefer my baths lukewarm, anyways." you joke, a fleeting touch on his arm.

your hand burns when you pull away and his eyes catch yours as if he felt it too. he must decide to not protest anymore as he nearly stumbles his way upstairs, disappearing into the master bathroom, his hands shaky as they take your soap from your grasp on the way.

Joel knew something was wrong immediately. the more he'd stood there, debating with you about who gets to fucking clean themselves first, the more he saw you, in a tub, fingers caressing yourself; the more real it felt, to see you touch your hardened buds, play with your tits, to hear you moan his name gently.

but his body was hot. he felt a fever like nothing he'd ever felt before, his mind going fuzzy as he'd stumbled into the bathroom, scrubbing his whole body from head to toe vigorously, as though whatever was happening would fade away if he'd just get clean.

the bath couldn't have been longer than seven minutes.

by the end of it, he was grunting into his shoulder to muffle the noise, his fist squeeing his cock tight as he fucks himself into it, the hot spurs of wanton need curling around his body, choking him. that god damned soap. it smelled like you.

he'd thrown it across the room, its pieces splintered across the ground as Joel bites back a groan of your name, the images of you, soft hands pumping him, slick mouth opening to take him inside- he cums over his chest in hot spurts, the guilt red and hot across his cheeks as the feeling snaps from his chest.

but the fever is still there when he blinks away the pleasured cloud of his orgasm.

and it's still there, burning hot like a snake of revenge in his body when he slams the door open, body still damp and quick to react to the fresh air of the upstairs bedroom.

he doesn't go back downstairs, not like this. not when the girl is down there, probably still in her own bath; he's still not sure what he's come down with, or if it could spread.

now, it’s your turn in the bathroom in the master bedroom - he'd beelined it for the office upstairs before calling for you and telling you it was your turn; he knew that something in him would snap if he were to see you while he was in this state.

but he should've gone back downstairs, because the moment he hears it, it's too late for him.

you're moaning.

it's almost clear as day; muffled through doors as you'd shut yourself from the rest of the house in the master bedroom, and Joel can't fucking unhear it.

he became painfully hard again mere minutes after his first orgasm and has been restraining himself for what can only have been the ten minutes you'd been bathing, but at the timbre of your voice, a cold shiver runs down his spine.

his eyes widen in acceptance. there must have been some sort of- poison, or aphrodisiac in that damn plant that you'd both been struck with.

"fuck." he groans, surprised as it comes out much more breathy than intended, his whole body shuddering as his brain gets even more swarmed with thoughts - you, spread for him, or on your knees, or laying on the table, his cock shoved down your throat-

he hits the wall, hard. his fist stings but it's nothing in comparison to the burning need he feels swirling in his gut and his legs carry him until he's knocking on the door to the master bedroom frantically.

he calls your name, and a weak gasp is the only response. he tries again, and then your muffled voice calls, "fuck, Joel, that plant-" you cut yourself off with what Joel can only imagine is a moan of pain and pleasure. his cock twitches and he thinks he may pass out. staggering over to the bannister, Joel calls out for Ellie. she stomps over to peak her head up towards him expectantly.

he's shaking, sweat already sheening over his whole body. he's sure he looks like hell as he grips the landing under white knuckles, "Ellie, we're sick." he groans, "stay downstairs."

she calls back up, joking that she’s going to leave the house; but she doesn't sound sincere. he barely registers her laughter before she shuts the door, closing herself off to explore the downstairs house without Joel or you to protect her. he's momentarily glad she's not suspicious, instead is relieved to have her own time to herself.

but his cock is so hard he thinks he may pass out again, and he can hear you gasping out his name from behind the door to the bedroom and bathroom.

the door to the bedroom shuts and echoes through the empty upstairs as he tears through, chest heaving. you're still in the bathroom, gasping as your moans echo through the chamber.

he calls your name as he slumps against the door frame to the bathroom, the desire coursing through his body as he shakes with the feverous affects from the plant's venom.

he can't think straight, "I can't come in." he says, shaking his head as his forehead rests against the cool wood. you wail from inside, "Joel, please, I need- I need you, please I need help." you whimper. he can practically see you, the pleading look on your face pathetic as your brows tangle together, eyes shut in frustration. he knows you're touching yourself, and it makes his cock twitch.

"I can't." he says sternly, knowing that if he is to come through that door, there may be no stopping himself. he can't let that happen, not like this. "I'll- I'll be good, just- I can't, nothing's working." you whimper.

"not like this, darlin'." he's grunting through his teeth, but he feels so much desire that it's painful, like he'll die. anger courses through his chest as you let out a drawn out moan, low and full of need even through the wall that separates you.

"fuck you." you groan, "I hate you, Joel, never let me fuckin' have anything," your voice is strangled, a shuddering moan leaving your lips that sends jolts of electricity throughout his entire being. his hand finds his aching cock, slowly trying to relieve the painful desire that shoots through him with need.

he glares through the wall, "yeah, well, fuck you too." he spits back, anger coursing through him at your bratty exclaim of irritation for him - the one who kept you safe, who let you do what you wanted - who followed you into goddamn sewer drains to find the shit that you’d lost.

"walking around, flaunting that fuckin' ass at me." his words fall from his lips before he can stop himself, the desire and haze pulling it out of him as he twists his wrist around himself. "do you know what you do to me?" he nearly growls, "every time you open that mouth it's some shit. always gotta have somethin' to say to me, huh? make me wanna shut you up."

your moan is nearly a sob this time; it's raw, full of desire, and Joel could just about cum from that noise alone. his neck heats up with the knowledge that his words pushed you even further; he always knew you'd be a dirty little thing.

but he nearly falls over as the door to the bathroom rips open, catching himself with one arm on the doorframe, his cock still in his fist. his eyes find you on the ground, fully naked, on your goddamn hands and knees for him.

his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when you gasp, "Joel, we need to-" you swallow as though you were salivating at the sight of him above you, cock angry and flushed, "you have to fuck me, now."

he stares down at you, his whole entire body tremoring at the sight of you; your bare chest, nipples peaked at you suck in breaths, face flushed with desire and sweat, your own legs shaking terribly. your hands are glistening with your own juices. he lets out a moan.

"please," you try to get his attention again, squirming as though you're in just as much pain as he is, "please, just use me, I don't care, I want to taste you."

he shakes his head, "we-we aren't thinking straight... can't do this." he gasps, even his own words starting to sound absurd to himself. you shake your head actual tears welling up in your eyes, "I think about this all the time, Joel-" you moan, your hand slipping between your legs, the wet sounds sending streaks of desire through his body. “it’s not just the fucking plant, Joel, I need you.” you hum. his wrist hasn't stopped moving, he realizes, chasing that sweet fucking high as you stare at his cock with a wide, hungry glance, begging him to fuck you. he wonders if he’s just dreaming again.

"you know that I want this." you gasp out, tears nearly slipping from your lashline, "don't you?"

does he? how could you dare to ask that?

he groans, nodding, "shit, baby, shut the fuck up."

"you're a fucking asshole, Joel." you whine, "it hurts." you mutter, biting your lip with a ghost of a smile. that makes him snap. it hurts, and you're fucking enjoying it?

he grabs you roughly. the minute his skin touches yours it burns deliciously; he can't believe he had the control to not touch you this whole time. his moan is tandem with yours as his fingers thread through your hair, intending on lifting you to take you to the bed; your hands grip his thighs, though, and soon your hot, wet mouth finds the angry head of his cock.

you take him about halfway before you gag slightly and he slams his hand hard on the wall just above you; your eyes are fluttered shut, a tear squeezing out as your throat opens for him. he groans at the pleasure that courses through him, reaches his fingers, the nape of his neck. you're pulling on him desperately, and it makes him smirk down at you.

"what, you wan' me to fuck that pretty little mouth?" he mutters, heart thundering in his chest as his fingers shake with desire. you pull off him, gasping slightly for breath, your finger still touching yourself as you nod, a string of spit still connecting him to your lips, "yes." you say with a nod, falling back against the wall as he crowds over you.

he's not patient, not right now. he knows he could fuck your mouth until he was shooting his seed down your throat and you'd sit through it all with that pretty hair and grin and hell, you’d probably even thank him afterwards; but he doesn't have the time for that. he needs to be deep inside you, needs to be drowning in your cunt, needs to fuck you down into the mattress so hard you scream.

and you're desperate, clearly: you're two fingers deep, fucking yourself on your fingers as another tear trails down your cheek, breathless as you shift in near pain from need. he resists the urge to coo down at you, his thumb still swiping the tear from your cheek before he grabs you again, this time pulling you up and tugging you onto the bed.

you let out a moan of his name, your face flush with arousal as you spread your thighs open for him, watching with a pained expression as he pulls off his shirt and jeans, discarding his boxers as he goes. your eyes rake over him and you whimper, still not touching him until he gives you permission.

it makes him smirk, "for such a brat it's a wonder you're so obedient like this." he mutters, pulling your legs further open as he quickly stands with his legs against the edge of the bed, running his cock against your soaked, velvety cunt.

you whimper, jolting in pleasure as his head catches your sensitive, neglected nub and he smears his precum there, enthralled in the shapes your nails carve into his biceps as you gasp.

he can't pull his eyes away from your glistening center - how many times had you cum before he'd heard you? he swallows, the flames licking his belly as he pushes his head against your tight hole.

he grunts, you were so goddamn tight; your eyes widen as you try to move your hips, try to slide yourself onto his cock, but he stops you with a rough hand around your shoulder, pinning you down. "stop." he orders, leaning so he can spit down, the slick trailing down to settle right onto where his cock nestles against your entrance. you let out a strangled gasp at his actions, throat dry from your noises.

he doesn't give you time to beg, though, as he's slowly easing himself into you; you let out a yelp at the feeling, loud enough that Joel's hand clamps over your lips roughly, his breath hitting your face, "shut your damn mouth, girl."

you feel like you're splitting open as he inches in and it's barely just his head but you have never felt such excruciating bliss as now, your breath falling from your nostrils harshly as he eases himself into you.

you wonder how much he is restraining against just fucking hard into you - but you're tight after the orgasms you'd given yourself in the bath trying to satiate the feelings you'd figured out were from that fucking plant venom.

you don't even know if he'll fit all the way into you as he inches slowly in, taking a few grunting breaths before fully sheathing himself inside your hot pussy. you clamp around him, feeling full as he bites his lip, chest heaving, slick with sweat. his hand, still clamped over your mouth, tightens against you as he slowly starts to thrust; he reaches a part so deep in you that you nearly scream.

he's hitting your spot nearly immediately as he starts to quicken his pace, hips hitting against yours deeply. you moan his name, "Joel, fuck, 's so fucking deep." you gasp it, unable to think of anything but chasing the high that's been building since the second the plant's venom entered your system.

he doesn't seem to like when you start to move your hips, chasing his when he pulls away; his hand comes to your cheek in a quick smack, grabbing your attention immediately. you can't prevent the moan at the sensation, nor the way you clench tight around his cock.

the moan he lets out is half-way between your name and fuck, as he slides into you deeper, hand wrapped around your cheeks, training your eyes on his. there's a glint of something animal in his eyes: you're sure he sees the same thing in you, the venom of that plant coursing through the two of you, nearly palpable in the air of skin slapping skin.

your cunt flutters at the eye contact, the desire bringing you closer to the edge; his hands shoot to your shins, pulling them up to his chest and then he leans forward with a deep thrust, coaxing tears of pleasure from your eyes. "that's it, take it." he grunts into your hear, hips punctuating each thrust as his tip nudges that spongy spot inside you that curls your toes.

then one hand catches yours as you fist the sheets; he pulls your arm roughly down towards where he enters you as he bites the lobe of your ear. "you're going to cum." he tells you breathlessly, directing your hand towards your clit, pressing the pads of your fingers against it. you yelp in pleasure, more tears squeezing from ecstasy as you nod against his forehead, "yes, fuck, I'm gonna-gonna cum."

"that's right." he's deeper, "cum for me." he nearly whispers it, almost desperate. it's just what you need to push you over the edge: his hips angling in a way that has hot, searing pleasure coursing through you. you nearly go blind when you cum with a gasp of his name. his hips don't even stutter as he fucks you through your orgasm, the relief washing over you in waves of pleasure. you can't open your eyes, your chest heaving, arms locked on his biceps, hips quivering with the intensity of the feeling.

he keeps the roll of his hips as he slides easily through your ruined pussy, his brows pinched in pleasure.

"y'feel so good," you nearly go limp, your fourth orgasm drawn out by the touch of the man you couldn't ever stop thinking about. he's so deep inside you, you're surprised you can't feel him in your throat as he thrusts. "pretty girl," he mutters, pinching one of your nipples and sending shockwaves through you; the relief you'd felt from your orgasm, just like the previous ones, is soon washed away by the newly replaced desire, back again and somehow even more hungry.

you nearly cry at the thought, but something in you still yearns for it and you allow your ankles to cross around his hips. "never wanna leave this cunt." he mutters against your collarbone. you flutter again at his words, arousal slicking you, him, the sheets below you; the squelch of your juices fill the room as he chases his own high.

a particularly loud cry of pleasure lands you with his hand yet again over your mouth, but this time, you waste no time in pulling his fingers to your lips, sucking two of them in eagerly as your hand tries to wrap around his thick wrist.

his eyes meet yours and his jaw clenches as his hips stutter, nearing his own high. his fingers work quick; thrusting into your mouth, slick with your spit, gagging you as he bottoms out particularly roughly. your nails scrape down his back and you'd be more shocked if there weren't marks later.

a few more thrusts and you can tell he's close, so you pull his fingers out of your mouth to gasp, "please, cum in me, Joel," you whimper into his neck, biting down hard as he groans your name. his hand suddenly clasps around your throat, pushing you down against the mattress as he fucks into you deep, his eyes screwed shut, "don' say shit like that to me, darlin'."

but his thrusts are getting sloppier as you squeeze around him, luring him in, the intoxicating scent of soap and him and his musk surrounding your head. "please, I'll do anything." you whine, hand crawling up his neck to cradle his jaw. his dark eyes meet yours and he moans at how earnest you look, his hand tightening his grip around your throat and squeezing slightly, your airway constricted for a slight moment, causing you to gasp for air when he leans back.

your desire has you cloudily begging, pulling at his hair, his arms, his back, keeping him in, and finally he growls, "shut up." he snaps, "'m gonna cum in you, and you better be fuckin' good." he barely looks at you as he lightly slaps one of your tits, grabbing the other and pinching your hardened nipple as he watches your whole body bounce from the force of his thrusts. "god, you feel so good." he mutters to himself. you preen at the praise, your own high creeping near.

your lips are clamped shut, his hand holding your head down from your throat as you nearly scream, his thrusts slowing and sloppy. he lets out a delicious moan as he hits his high. "that's right, take me." he mutters, his chest shaking as he cums; he's moaning loud as he thrusts one last time, his seed coating your walls.

"fuck." he eases, his thumb falling to soothe over your hairline gently as he releases into you. "so good for me, aren't you?"

you swallow, the burning fire of desire still smoldering in your core, your tear trails long since dried, your body exhausted but full of energy. you nod, unable to trust your words.

he pumps into you slowly once more before pulling all the way out, the noise of your slick and his cum slippery as you feel empty without him filling you.

but he's already distracted, his eyes hazy as he watches a bit of his cum spill from your weeping hole, his thumb dropping to slide it back up and into you, pressing against your entrance, your breath catching.

"is it- is it gone for you?" he asks, his voice strained. you don't need to look down to see that the venom hasn't yet run its course through his system yet; his eyes are still alight with the same animalistic desire that you feel pounding in your heart. your feverish sweating, the headache - most of it's gone, replaced with an intense, destructive desire that has you keening into his hand as it cups your used pussy, his eyes teasing.

"no," you moan, "you?"

he's already dropping to his knees as he breathes out, "no."

your eyes widen. in your haze, you're searching for any relief for this growing arousal, the feelings you have for Joel driving you to beg endlessly for him, yet you hadn't expected him to do this. immediately, his hands wrap around your shaking thighs, his breath hitting your bare, throbbing pussy. you can't even think as you card your fingers back through his hair, hips jerking up away from his face as he licks a small stripe over her swollen clit.

you're so worked up that you can't help the tightening coil as he soon dives his tongue into you, cleaning up the mess you'd made between your thighs, swirling around your clit.

you tug hard at his hair's roots, hard enough he's sending a groan into you that reverberates through you, vibrating your chest as you clamp one hand over your lips.

fiery pleasure snakes through your body, your ankles falling over his shoulder onto his back as he eats you out like a staved man. you see his arm moving through your clouded vision and you let out a pathetic whimper as you realize the wet noises aren't just from his mouth on you: he's fucking his fist. his movements make your legs shake hard, eyes rolling back as he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue.

“Joel,” you mutter, his name the only thing that can come out of your mouth as you can’t help but grind down slightly. Joel's hands are hard on your hips; you know tomorrow as you pull on your jeans, you'll have ten fingerprints marked into you.

it sends a delicious swirl of pride through you as he moans into you, "you taste so good, darlin'.” he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to your heat. your eyes roll back again as one of his hands reaches up to grasp your tit, thumb and finger pinching and rolling as he fucks his tongue into you. one of his hands snakes up to your ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making you buck your hips against him.

“Joel, i-” you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp, the overstimulating pressure making it increasingly harder to speak. your toes curl and head tilts back as his teeth graze over your clit, your thighs clenching shut as your orgasm nears violently quick.

"you gonna cum again?" he mutters, barely breaking away from you, his own hand moving fast as he fucks his fist; you yearn to feel him in your mouth, to taste him. “please, please.” you mutter, your hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at your clit and making you cry out. “please, make me cum, Joel.” you plead, tugging his head closer, his hand slapping your ass again.

and then you're clenching your thighs on either side of him and grinding down as you hit your peak, shaking in pleasure. you grind yourself onto his tongue as he drinks you in, cleaning you of every last drop, his thumb soothing over your hip. he rides you through your high, lapping at you and only pulling away when you go lax on the mattress, legs twitching, gasps ragged and scarce.

you'd have probably passed out right then and there if it hadn't been for his own strangled grunt, your eyes snapping back to him, to where his hand wraps around his own dick, slick with your cum and his own spit.

"Joel," you mumble, cheeks feeling hot as your mind starts to lift, desire yet again pooling between your thighs as you slide down, off the bed until your back hits it, hands caressing over his thighs, "let me taste you." you ask, cheek hot as it lays on his thigh, your eyes begging up at him.

he moans deeply as one had slides behind your neck, steadying you as his other grips himself, "stick out your tongue." his pupils are blown so wide you can only see black. you follow his order, sticking out your tongue as you eagerly lean towards his cock, his brows furrowing as he slaps your tongue with himself.

his hands tug you towards him, your lips tugging over him as you take him into your mouth, trying your best to look up at him. you gag around him as he thrusts his hips forward, your hands flying up to grip his thighs. "fuck, look at you," he moans, his grip tight against your head, slowly starting to fuck your throat, your eyes tearing up. "so eager for me, bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, hm?"

your face heats up as you hum, unable to say anything as he slides into you, tip pushing against your throat, your eyes rolling back. "yeah, you would. i know you think about it, darlin'. think about it all the time."

you should be embarrassed to learn that Joel had, under more sober circumstances, noticed how you acted around him. but instead you let the trail of spit slide down your chin and onto your bare breasts, your fingers pushing it over your hardened nipples as he pulls off your mouth.

you gasp for air, looking up at him with wet eyes. "get on the bed." he orders and you scramble with weak legs onto the mattress, staring at him, the familiarly torturous desire in you throbbing. his hands push you around until you're on your elbows and knees, his hand swatting your ass. "gonna cum on that pretty ass." he mutters, hand grabbing a handful of the plush skin as he spreads you open, "okay?"

"yes, yes, please." you mutter, face sweaty and stuck with your wet hair as he leans down, spitting onto your glistening, puffy cunt. you're nearly sobbing into the sheets as he slides into your wet, warm hole, his groans just as wrecked as you.

"jesus christ, girl." he mutters to himself as he starts to thrust into you, the new angle setting your whole body alight with the coiled pleasure. it builds fast until you feel like you're on fire, his hands rough against your hips, swatting your ass every time your hips pulled away from the overstimulation.

"you need to come." his breath is hot as it hits your cheek, his chest pressing to your back. he's deep into you, tip hitting your sweet spot with every rolling thrust of his hips. then slipping one hand onto the back of your neck, the other snaking to toy with your sensitive clit.

your legs nearly give out as your back arches, the orgasm crashing over you before you can even register it.

you can't see, blind with the bliss of pleasure; your thighs shake as he mutters dirty words into your ear, Joel's hips stuttering as you clamp and flutter around him, slickening yourself and his pubic hair, skin wet with your arousal. you're so sensitive you can't do anything but take his cock as he fucks you, deeper and slower as though he's coming down with the mind fog just as you.

when he hits his own mind-numbing orgasm, he's pulling out of you fast and finishing in hot spurts onto your ass, streaking up your lower back and sliding down into your quivering core.

your name is the only thing on his lips as he slowly slumps down onto the mattress next to you.

you both wait; it's silent besides your sniffling from the overstimulation and the soreness of your throat and Joel's labored breaths. you both wait to see if that torturous feeling comes back to your groins, suffocating and clouding your judgement.

but instead, the fog clears, and within five minutes of silence and stoicism, you're sure that whatever the venom was, it'd passed through your system. "Joel?" you whisper it, cracking slightly. you hear his head shift; he'd not looked at you at all. you're not sure you blame him, embarrassment creeping through your face. but not regret. definitely not regret.

he whispers your name back, and there's a vulnerability in it that has your eyes snapping to his, searching for the dilation of his pupils, any sign to show the venom was still in his system. you can't find any. "do you- is it gone? for you?"

he blinks at you once before nodding his head, "yes. n'you?" you nod at him, muttering a small, "yeah."

he knows he should go get a cloth to clean you up. he'd possibly have to help you up, help you dress... his throat dries as his now less foggy brain recovers the memories of moments ago; the size of your pupils blown out with lust. he looks over you; he'd ruined you.

another wave of self-doubt runs through him; you were not like him, you weren't bad like him. you deserve better.

but the way you stare at him now, as though you want nothing more than to do what you'd both just done every day with him...

he opens an arm, accepting you as you slide your limp, exhausted body against his own naked form, his arm squeezing you to his chest as he sighs deeply. you nuzzle your face into his neck, your own heart racing just as fast as his.

he feels like a damn fool - it'd been far too long for him, he's not sure how to approach these feelings he harbors for you, so he'd hidden them down with anger and irritation and eye rolls; but now he's gone and fucked you like you were just some other whore.

his lips press to your forehead. he doesn't think he can say anything, not right now. he still feels like he's got a fever, and by the looks of you, you feel it too.

so he hopes the kiss he tenderly lays on your hairline says what he can't: he's sorry he was rough with you. he hopes you're okay. he hopes you don't regret it. he hopes you know... he hopes you know it wasn't just about that damn plant’s venom.

he pulls away from you after just a moment, rising to tug on his boxers. but as he crosses the threshold into the bathroom to gather a washcloth for you, your soft voice stops him.

"Joel." you mutter, eyes nervous, exhausted. he stops, looking at you.

you're just as nervous as he looks; you're unsure how to interact with him now, the man you trust with your life, the one who acts like he hates you, the one you know probably loves you; and then you'd fucked him like he was just a dick, though you wish you could tell him: he's so much to you.

"that wasn't-" you're unsure how to convey it, "it wasn't just about the-whatever that plant was. I don't regret it. and I hope you don't either." you're glad it sounds as genuine as you feel when you say it. you want him to know he didn't hurt you. and you hope you didn't hurt him.

his face flashes with relief, with adoration. "I don't." he says, turning from you quickly.

and if his lips ghost over your knees and leave goosebumps on their wake, if his hands soothe gently over every budding bruise of his handprint on your hip; you don't mention it now.

if he gently and devotedly wipes you both clean, if your hands fold together as he settles back down against you, if your hearts beat together as you settle into the fever nap that claims you both; you just smile gently at his bashful grin.

and if your lips brush against each other just before the sleep takes you both; well, then you'll talk about it all later.

taglist: (message to be on joel miller taglist/regular tag list.)

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader

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dwritesit · 11 months ago

Text

mount

inspired by this post i hope its okay! its very short...

Summary: Mountain crying and begging to breed Dewdrop. yeah.

Tags: breeding, begging, crying, size kink..., dirty talk, trans dewdrop

Read below the cut or on AO3

...

Mountain feels like he might die. It's hot, he's drenched in sweat, his chest squeezed tight like a vice as he pants and sobs for air. The world is hazy, steamy, all he knows is that he wants something he can't have. At least not yet.

“Please, please, Dewdrop,” He says again, unsure of how many times the words have left his mouth at this point. Dewdrop’s smirk in response makes Mountain's stomach flip and twist, and his cock he's been sliding against the little fire ghoul’s thigh for the last… however long… kicks and spurts more pre-cum over that rose gold skin.

“What do you need, Mounty?” Dewdrop asks from his place below the large ghoul. He's trapped beneath him, both his wrists pressed tight against the mattress above his head in just one of the earth ghoul’s hands. A buzz tingles under Dew’s skin at the sight of Mountain above him; the large frame, the way his muscles from hours of outdoor labor ripple as he continues jerking his hips for friction. Mountain could take what he wants. With one movement, he could have Dew on his stomach, ass in the air, and pound into him with little to no effort, but here he is instead. Begging, whining, desperate for Dewdrop’s permission.

“Please, fuck, Dewy- firelily, I need to breed you. I need it, Ineedit Ineedit Ineedit,” Mountain sobs. Dewdrop looks down to that huge, angry, red cock against his thigh. It looks painful, like one more slide might make him pop and cover Dew’s stomach. But he's being so good, so obedient for his lover.

“You need to breed me, pebble?” Dew asks, “You think you deserve to fill me up?”

Mounty shakes his head, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto Dewdrop’s collar bones as he leans down to lap at the plethora of bruises and bite marks he'd left all over Dew’s neck and shoulders, “Been good, been a good boy,” He says.

“You've been so good for me, baby,” Dew agrees, biting his lip to hold back a moan as Mountain sucks yet another mark onto his neck, kitten licking at the skin as an apology, “Such a good boy for me.”

Mountain cries out at the praise, kissing up Dew’s neck until he's reached his lips and captures him in a heated kiss. Dew wastes no time in diving his tongue into Mountain’s mouth, tasting his lovely earth ghoul and pulling the sweetest moans out of his chest.

“Can I please?” Mounty asks again, “It hurts, please, I need to be inside you. Need to cum inside you!”

Dewdrop can't help but moan lewdly at the words. He needs it just as badly, his cunt has been aching ever since he smelled Mountain’s familiar heat from down the hall in his own room. He had followed that evergreen and floral scent expecting to be fucked within an inch of his life - the way Mountain’s heats usually turned to just instinct and raw need and lust. Instead he found the other ghoul writhing on his bed, already in tears as he jerked himself over the edge, begging as soon as he smelled Dewdrop enter the room.

“Please, please, need to breed you. Let me breed you, baby,” Mountain continues the barrage of requests, whispering hoarse against Dewdrop’s neck as he keeps licking and sucking and biting, always missing the place where he's meant to mark the fire ghoul, “Need to see you full of me, I've been good, please.”

“ Fuck, Mounty,” Dewdrop isn't sure how much longer he can keep holding off himself. He's already cum so many times, either from Mountain's greedy mouth, or his long thick fingers, but it's nothing compared to actually being filled by the other ghoul, “Fuck me.”

Mountain stops mid-lick up the side of Dewdrop’s face, even his hips freezing, cock twitching again over Dew’s skin.

Dew knows he's waiting for clearer permission, “You're such a good boy, Mounty. Fuck me, fill me, breed me.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Mountain gasped out as he pulled back slightly, hand still firm around Dewdrop’s wrists while he settled between those rose gold thighs. He only let go so he could push Dewdrop’s legs forward, encouraging the fire ghoul to hold them, to hold himself open for him. Dew is happy to oblige, barring his soaked cunt completely as his fingers dimple into the backs of his thighs. Mountain groans, sobs , again at the sight.

“Come on, Mounty, fuck me,” Dew’s voice is raspy and dripping with desperation as he stares up at his mate.

Mountain finally lines himself up with Dewdrop’s hole, bowing forward as soon as the tip is against the entrance, claws gripping and tearing holes into the mattress, his forehead pressed against the fire ghoul’s as he tries to control his release. He needs to be inside. Needs to cum inside of Dewdrop’s heat.

Slowly, he sinks inside, Dewdrop’s back arches off the bed at the delicious stretch - no matter how Mountain worked him open, how wet Dew became, the sweet burn was always there and he lived for it. Craved it.

“Dew, Dew ,” Mountain wails, finally seating himself fully inside of the fire ghoul, “Need more, please. Please take all of me!”

Dewdrop groans and presses sweet kisses on Mountain’s face, licks at his tears and traces their trails with his tongue. He already feels so full, there's no way there's anything else to take. It's enough to stop any sort of response in his throat, as he gasps around the sensation.

“Let me knot you, take my knot, spitfire,” Mountain returns Dewdrop’s kisses with kisses of his own. Wetter, sloppier, making Dew's face glisten with sweat and spit.

“Always,” Dew gasps out, feeling the knot forming where they're pressed together. He's not sure he can take it but he will...

#mountaindew #mountain x dewdrop #mountain ghoul #i want mountain to call dew daddy so bad u have no idea #dewdrop ghoul #transmasculine dewdrop #trans dew #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #sodo ghoul #dwritesit

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 7 months ago

Text

Playing Doctor

@cirrus-ghoulette made this fun post about Aether doing a pelvic exam on someone, which I reblogged with a VERY horny string of tags. Turns out people liked it (got yelled at in rbs) sooooo I was inspired to write this. Enjoy!

Tags: trans Dew, med kink, speculum use, aftercare, vibrators, established kink scene, use of safeword (yellow), checking in, aftercare, pwp

Terms used for Dew's genitals: cunt, pussy, vagina, walls, labia, clit, Tdick, dick, cock

Note: if you want a better idea of the speculum used, it’s a Cusco model. Yes I went down a rabbit hole of speculum research for this kinky gay fanfic.

Aether’s tail flicked idly back and forth as he arranged his tools on the countertop of the exam room. He was taking his time, knowing it would just make Dew more worked up. They had been planning this scene all day, going over boundaries (and more importantly, how to be inconspicuous). Dew had snuck into a rarely-used exam room in the infirmary while Aether distracted Omega, then Aether had slipped away and joined him. It was risky, but it was late at night and the older rooms were basically abandoned anyway.

Aether pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter and pulled them onto his hand with a sharp snap. He looked over at Dew, who was laid out on the exam table. He was fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie while watching Aether.

“Color?” Aether asked softly.

“Green,” Dew replied. His tail flicked against the paper on the table, giving away his excitement. Aether gave a pleased chuff before he closed his eyes for a moment and let himself step into his role for the scene.

“Could you open your legs for me?” Aether asked in his “nurse voice”- professional, detached, and clinical. He wasn’t sure why Dew got so turned on by it, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

Dew’s cheeks flushed a darker red and his legs spread. Aether could see his hard and throbbing T-dick peeking out from the bush of soft blonde curls between his legs.

“What are you having problems with again?” Aether asked, using his gloved thumbs to spread Dew’s labia in a mock exam. The smaller ghoul let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat.

”Um- I’ve been uh… unusually sensitive down there.” Dew replied. “It’s making me… aroused all the time and it’s really hard to focus on anything.” He shifted his hips, his cunt clenching and dripping. Aether placed a hand on his lower belly, gently holding his hips in place.

”Hold still, please.” He told Dew. “I’ll need to perform a full pelvic exam, if you’re comfortable with it.”

”Yes.” Dew blurted quickly. Aether’s lips twitched upward in a brief smirk before settling back into their previous neutrality.

”Alright. I’m going to use my fingers to palpate the inside of your vagina.” The Quintessence ghoul explained. “Deep breath in… and… out.”

Dew made an absolutely sinful noise as Aether inserted two gloved fingers into his cunt. He clenched around his fingers, more slick drooling from around the digits.

”Any discomfort?” Aether asked, curling his fingers upward into Dew’s G-spot. The fire ghoul whimpered and shook his head.

”N-no, just, um, pleasure.” Dew replied shakily. Aether hummed in acknowledgement and pressed his fingers deeper. Dew’s hips bucked.

“Hold still,” Aether said, his hand pressing harder on the smaller ghoul’s belly. “It’s normal to feel pleasure or even orgasm during the exam. Just let me know if anything feels painful or weird, alright?”

“Yeah.” Dew’s voice was breathy. He let out a whine as Aether’s free hand pulled back the hood of his clit. Aether had to stop himself from leaning down and taking it into his mouth.

“Your bottom growth is coming along well,” Aether commented. “You’re a lot bigger than you were at your last exam. How long have you been on hormones again? Three years?”

“Y- yeah.” Dew repeated. Aether glanced up at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.

“Is it giving you any discomfort?” Aether asked, rubbing his thumb over Dew’s twitching dick. “Oversensitivity or anything like that?”

“No, not- not before the rest of the o-oversensitivity.” Dew stammered, his breath hitching as Aether’s fingers explored his cunt. Aether hummed in acknowledgement.

“Alright, I’m not feeling anything out of the ordinary right now so I’m going to use the speculum.” Aether slowly slid his fingers out of Dew’s pussy, much to the dismay of his partner (if the needy whimper that escaped his throat was to be interpreted correctly).

Dew watched in anticipation as Aether applied lube to the tool. It was a metal one, rather than the more comfortable plastic speculums that the infirmary currently stocked. Aether knew Dew would like the cold temperature.

“Okay, relax for me.” Aether requested, positioning the tool at Dew’s entrance. Dew let out a surprised squeak as he felt the cold metal on him.

“Legs wider,” Aether told him, tapping the insides of his thighs. Dew obliged.

Aether’s thumb rubbed tiny circles at the base of Dew’s cock as he inserted the tool. Dew clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the wanton cry that escaped his lips. Aether pressed his hand to the smaller ghoul’s stomach again to prevent his hips from bucking.

“Oh Lucifer…” Dew breathed. His thighs clamped around Aether’s broad shoulders. Aether took a few moments to sit back and admire the view.

Dew’s cunt pulsed and clenched around the tool. Aether watched in satisfaction as another glob of milky slick oozed onto the paper on the exam table, joining the already impressive puddle there. Dew’s water traits were few, but one of the remaining ones was how wet he got. Not enough to rival Rain, but definitely enough to require a towel to be put down on the bed before sex.

“Color?” Aether asked softly.

“Green,” Dew replied immediately.

“I’m gonna open it now, alright?” Aether asked. Dew nodded and let his head fall back on the crinkly paper of the exam table. Aether squeezed the handles of the speculum, slowly spreading Dew open. His inner walls were soaked, strands of gooey slick stringing between the jaws of the tool.

“Looks good so far,” Aether remarked. He pulled a penlight out of the breast pocket of his scrubs and clicked it on, shining it inside Dew’s spread-open cunt. “Nice healthy cervix…” He scooted his chair closer and used one finger to gently stroke Dew’s inner walls. He let out an amused hum as Dew clenched in response, a broken whine being quickly muffled by his hand.

“Try to relax.” Aether murmured. His finger lightly explored Dew’s exposed flesh, drawing whimpers out of his “patient”. Now that he was opened up, slick pooled in the curved bottom jaw of the speculum. He dragged his finger through the pool and smeared it on Dew’s dick, making him twitch. He resisted the urge to lick it off, to bury his nose in the soft curls framing Dew’s cock and suck on it until the smaller man was incoherent. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. That wasn’t part of the scene, it could wait for another time.

“Mhm.” Dew hummed. His tight clenching slowed, though he still fluttered beautifully at every touch.

“Hmmm… I’ll try a different angle” Aether mused. He slowly rotated the speculum, now exposing the top and bottom walls of Dew’s cunt. He ran his finger along his bottom wall first, from up near his cervix down to his taint.

“How does that feel?” Aether asked. He bit back a love or a darling. It was tough to not praise Dew, to tell him how pretty he looked and how good he’d make him feel.

“Good.” Dew breathed. “Really good.”

Aether’s lips twitched in a smirk. He moved his finger to the top wall of Dew’s cunt and slowly dragged his finger toward himself, searching for the spot that would make Dew unravel at the seams.

There. The soft, spongy spot just behind his pubic bone. Aether applied pressure to the spot and Dew keened.

“Ah.” Aether chuckled. “There we are.” He rubbed tiny circles against the spot, drawing lewd noises out of Dew. His finger withdrew after a moment and Dew panted, his eyes dazed and unfocused.

Aether reached into the breast pocket of his shirt again and pulled out a small bullet vibrator.

“I’ll test your sensitivity now, alright?” Aether told Dew. The smaller ghoul nodded, hands gripping the side of the exam table.

Aether clicked the button on the end of the vibrator and it buzzed to life on its lowest setting. Using his penlight to guide him, he slid the tip of the toy against Dew’s upper wall until it pressed perfectly against that perfect little bundle of nerves.

Dew’s hand flew to his mouth again, this time shoving his fingers inside to muffle his noises. Aether clicked the button again, the vibrations increasing in intensity. He pressed his hand against Dew’s stomach to stop his hips from bucking. Dew’s tail lashed and reached out to curl around Aether’s arm.

“Sensitivity is high.” Aether muttered to himself. He was having trouble holding onto the little toy from all the slick on his fingers and as he readjusted his grip, the angle of the tip changed slightly. Dew let out a muffled cry, biting down on his fingers. His cunt clenched hard around the speculum and then he was gone.

Aether watched with satisfaction (and a little amazement) as Dew’s pussy spasmed and pulsed. It was a totally new and not unpleasant experience to watch his orgasm from the inside, his muscles clenching and releasing, slick drooling onto the table below him. He was transfixed.

“Y-yellow- '' Dew panted, snapping Aether back to reality. He pulled the vibrator away and looked up at Dew with concern.

“You alright?” Aether asked. Dew nodded, a dazed look on his face.

“Mhm, mostly. I- I wanna end the scene.” Dew replied. Aether nodded and gently closed the speculum, then slid it out of Dew. He kissed the inside of his thigh and set the tool aside before rolling his chair over to Dew’s side.

“How you feeling?” Aether asked, brushing some of his partner’s hair out of his face.

“Fuzzy brain.” Dew mumbled. “I liked that.”

“That’s good. Scale of 1-10, how fuzzy are you?” He always asked this question during aftercare to gauge the level of care Dew would need.

“Mmm… Four.” Dew mumbled. “Want cuddles.” He reached out for Aether and grabbed his hand.

“Can you wait a bit, firefly?” Aether asked. “I gotta clean up the room, but then we can cuddle all night long.”

Dew sighed and nodded. “Okay… that’s fair. Can I have the blanket?”

Aether retrieved the blanket he’d brought from the chair in the corner and draped it over Dew. “I’m gonna clean you up a bit down there, is that okay?”

“Mhm.” Dew nodded. Aether could hear him start to purr as he buried his face in the fuzzy blanket. Using a soft towel and some warm water from the sink, he wiped away most of the mess Dew had made of himself with a gentle hand. Then he helped Dew into clean underwear and sweatpants, his partner purring the whole time.

Fifteen minutes later, the exam room was spotless and Dew was still purring in his blanket cocoon. Aether scooped the smaller ghoul up effortlessly and nestled him against his chest.

“Mmmm…” Dew hummed, burying his face in Aether’s chest. “You’re so strong.”

“You’re not that heavy.” Aether chuckled, using his knee to turn the door handle and turning off the lights with his elbow. His voice dropped to a whisper once they were in the hallway. “I could carry two of you, no problem.”

“Suuure.” Dew’s whisper was as sarcastic as ever, but he shut up as Aether carried him through the back hallways of the infirmary and out a side door. He was fast asleep in Aether’s arms even before they got back to the den.

#Thanks to everyone who yelled at me in rbs you fueled me through this entire writing process #I'm bad at writing endings but I hope the shameless kinky gay transgender sex makes up for it #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #tw med kink #med kink #dewther #dewdrop/aether #dew/aether #aether/dewdrop #wham writing

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