#The band Ghost smut

[oh-babylove]

~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it. 

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled. 

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself. 

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway. 

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight. 

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm. 

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails. 

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him.  His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy. 

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open. 

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort. 

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt. 

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding. 

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest. 

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction. 

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off. 

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear. 

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage. 

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical. 

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.” 

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels. 

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there�� you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?” 

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand. 

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart. 

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!” 

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.” 

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you. 

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours. 

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull. 

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness. 

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth. 

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. “Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.” 

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes. 

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary. 

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction. 

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil. 

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water. 

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now. 

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight. 

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.) 

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?” 

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room. 

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 14. cum bulge

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “stuffed like a present”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ mountain wants to give you something that’ll leave you completely filled

pairing: mountain ghoul x afab!reader

a/n: this one is so ass forgive me 💀 sorry if it seems repetitive compared to my other prompts

cw: nsfw content. cum bulge. overstimulation. multiple rounds. knotting (?). bondage with vines.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“yeah… you see that? that was all me. you look so good with my cum stuffing your insides.” —❤︎

┅✦┅

“mmh fuck… oh you like that… hm?”

“a-ahh… this is like the fourth time in a row you’ve made me cum.”

“good.”

before you could reply, a sudden hip thrust into your core was enough to make you whine and clamp your mouth shut. your eyes were filled with stars, glittering with pure lust as you looked up at a certain earth ghoul, who was responsible for making you feel this good.

mountain grinned, and slammed his cock into your cervix again, to which in response you let out a loud whimper, eyes fluttering shut in the process. currently, you found yourself tangled up in the drummer’s sheets. his ghoul powers were active, summoning long, thin vines to keep you locked in place while he went to town on you, restraining your ankles and wrists. mountain was feeling rather… generous today. this year, he wanted to give you an extra special present this year, one that you will remember forever.

so of course, that idea of an extra special present involved strapping you down to his bed, and cumming inside of your tight cunt over and over again, each load of cum painting your insides white and gradually making you more stuffed with his seed.

you just writhed against his grip, body instinctively twitching from the amount of hard orgasms you just had, leaving you sweaty and out of breath. you felt the wind get knocked out of your lungs briefly when mountain slowly started thrusting again, forcing you to take another one of his loads.

“m-mountain… fuck— how much stamina do you have..? i don’t know if i can last another round.” you rasped out, and mountain only winked at your fucked out expression.

“i can go all night long if i want to, babe.” he grunted, thrusts gradually growing more forceful, rocking the bed with the strength of his hip movements. “but i’m nice… so i’ll make this our last one.”

your eyes visibly relaxed when you heard this, as you were sure that if you went for a few more rounds, you’d black out.

“oh thank satan— a-aahhh!!”

your quick celebration was then interrupted by a sudden, forceful thrust which turned into a series of rough thrusts, caused the headboard of the bed to slam into the wall while mountain fucked you with no mercy. your eyes widened with shock, and your choked up voice quickly melted into pleasured, overstimulated moans.

“s-shit! ahh! mountain!” you cried out, trying to grip the sheets to maintain some sort of balance, but mountain was relentless.

“since this is our last round for the night…” mountain grunted out, fangs bearing as he thrusted harder and harder, his cock sliding in and out of your thigh pussy with ease.

“i’ll end it all off with a bang.”

his thrusts only got more rough and forceful, each time his cock hit a certain spot inside of you that had you squealing over and over. you could feel the cum from the previous orgasms get pushed all the way back inside of you.

you couldn’t stop making such pleasured noises, and mountain was enjoying every last second of it.

“fuccck. you feel it? you feel my cum pushing inside of your tight womb?” mountain groaned, his large hands moving to press against your stomach.

your eyes fluttered open, and widened when met with the sight in front of you. your tummy had a bulge on it, and mountain pressing his palm against the little bump on your stomach only had you squirming and seeing stars.

“yeah… you see that? that was all me. you look so good with my cum stuffing your insides.” mountain praised, driving his cock deeper inside of you to feel every last inch of your tightness clamping around his cock.

“a-ahhh!”

“hmmm.. seems like you like it as much as i do.”

you could only nod your head mindlessly and let out more pleasured, high pitched noises as you neared your climax, feeling mountain’s cock throbbing inside you intensely, also signaling his upcoming release.

mountain groaned and moved his head down to bite your neck, whispering into your skin.

“ohhh yeaahh. fuck i’m so close. m’gonna make you catch onto my knot and take my seed like a good toy.” mountain whispered lewdly, which only made you tighten around his shaft.

your hands writhed against the vines restraining you, and you cried out: “fuck! i’m gonna cum too!”

mountain moaned in response. “then cum with me, darling.”

like it was on command, your body shook wildly as you came hard all over mountain’s cock. the earth ghoul also moaned loudly as he released thick ropes of cum deep within you.

both of you panted heavily, and mountain slowly pulled out, smirking when he heard you whine from the emptiness. he looked down, and saw his and your cum dribble out of your tight hole.

“fuck. that’s so hot.” he cursed, and you panted heavily in response.

you were completely spent, having gone multiple rounds with this ghoul. you thought it would never end, but alas.

mountain chuckled at your fucked out expression, and caressed your cheek with his hand. he moved it up to your forehead, and moved your hair out of the way to get a better look at you.

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, before speaking.

“good little plaything.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

[lskisms]

You asked for ghost requests?

I got an idea for Phantom cause from the clips I've seen. He's like a high-energy puppy.

Relaxing with his partner after a concert, and he's sleepy as he comes down from the high of performing or he still has unspent energy leftover. So two options: soft sleepy smexy times or doing it to release the rest of his energy. Feel free to choose either one.

can attest to the puppy energy !! he was all over the stage in austin and it was the cutest thing i’ve ever seen actually i was giggling at the barricade like a little schoolgirl

anyways bc phantom is SOOOO my baby why not both

sleepy and soft.

say he comes back to the hotel room and once he’s freshly showered, he’s got you in his arms, relaxed in bed and chatting about anything that comes to mind. the adrenaline, all that octane, has burned through him and smothered itself out, but still, he has this urgent need to feel you entirely. he kisses you soft and slow, pressing you back into the plush pillows. when he moves to kiss you neck, little fangs dragging lightning across your skin, you try to tell him he just showered, so he shouldn’t work up another sweat. he doesn’t listen to you, of course, just nips at the junction between your shoulder and neck, the soft skin pricking hotly, and whispers that he needs you.

and because you’ve always been weak to him, you let him shimmy you out of your pajamas and take you as he pleases. his hips roll against yours deliciously, agonizingly slow, but each press of his cock against that spot inside you that only he knows how to get to makes it worth it. his mouth is everywhere, muttering praises into your skin and swallowing up each noise of yours that dares to rise abovea soft moan. he makes sure you come first, as he always does, and his release follows just seconds after. his body eases into yours, skin against skin, breaths mingling between you. he refuses to pull out of you for quite sometime, but you don't complain (you never complain) because he fills you in ways undescribable, an otherworldly feeling of completion.

but he is thoroughly exhausted, sleepiness settling heavy into his very bones. he does get up eventually to clean you up and redress you, but each motion is slow-going, syrupy and languid and perfect. he takes you into his arms again the second he's back in bed, whispers of love confessions falling on deaf ears as you let the remnants of his warmth inside you lull you to sleep.

pent-up.

he doesn't bother to shed his clothes or shower first, doesn't even bother to kick off his shoes. the second he sees you in the hotel room, he's getting himself out of the offending mask and sealing you in a kiss that is all teeth and tongue and spit. it's a way you have him often, messy and fumbling, but that always drives the experience of letting him have you from perfect to life-altering.

he barely gets himself out of his boots, his pants, or even you out of your own clothes, soaked with the sweat of yourself and the people you'd been with in the pit that night, crushed against the barricade. he gets you on all fours on the bed and slips inside without much of a fight, his cock straining against the slick of your walls. the pace he sets is brutal and it has you keening loudly; you're certain you'll have a noise complaint before he's even halfway decided to be done using you tonight.

his hands press bruises into your skin, claws digging deep into the plush of everywhere he can reach. the bite of each pinprick has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, a delicious haze filling your head until all you can think of is his name and the earth-shattering way his hips drive into your ass. he pulls you up by the back of your neck, tongue sliding against the shell of your ear as he asks you who your body belongs to, who gets to use it as they please (it's yours, phantom. all yours, comes your reply, each syllable broken and stuttered). and when he's content with your answers, he pushes you down into the mattress, his hand pressing your back into a perfect arch just for him.

he overstimulates you, focused on nobody's pleasure, just on getting that livewire of energy out of himself. you're lucky he doesn't make you count how many times you come because you lose count after three. and when his rutting finally comes to an end, it's almost as agonizing to not have him inside of you as it is for him to keep fucking you. you're so limp and foggy that it makes him giggle hazily himself, proud to have been the progenitor of your undoing.

he'll do it again after the next concert too, he tells you, so don't worry your pretty little head. he knows how much you adore being brainless for him and it'd be awfully despicable of him to deny you that pleasure.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

[𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫] dewdrop ghoul x ghost!reader

[𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥]

a/n: dewdrop’s dick glows, that is your warning ;)

dewdrop knew his room was haunted, the constant tapping on the stained glass window late at night always reminded him.

“must you tap so loud?” he asks out loud while covering his ears with his pillow. “a certain fire ghoul is trying to sleep!”

the tapping stops and dewdrop feels a cold presence next to him on the bed.

“what now?”

silence.

“i can’t help you if you don’t use your words, you know that.”

“can i see some of your fire again?” you ask quietly.

dewdrop groans before sitting up and look at your almost transparent face with a soft glare. you don’t react to his glare only staring in anticipation for the fire he produces.

“you’re so annoying.”

dewdrop holds out his hand to you as you watch an orange glow start to flow through his veins. you attempt to hold it and bring it closer but your hands disappear has you try to get near the faint glow he has on his hand.

you huff in defeat but continue watching his hand.

“i’m not sure why you like it so much. the light makes your form dissipate, you can’t be near it or in it.”

“is it warm?” your eyes are still locked on his hand.

he notices how you don’t respond to his previous statement but he decides not to press it.

“it’s hot and it burns humans, but i’m use to it.”

“does it hurt to use your powers?”

“not anymore.”

“i miss the light, i miss how it felt against my skin it was all warm.”

there’s a silence between the two of you.

“dewdrop…” your hand moves over his glowing one to try to move it away, he understands and the warm glow fades out as he moves his hand to his side.

“can i touch you now?” you move closer.

“yes.”

the light may make you unable to be seen or touched, but in the dark it’s like you’re a solid being again and in the darkness your lips crash into his as you’re finally able to feel him against your cold skin.

dewdrop’s warm hand cups your cold cheek as you push him to lay on the bed so you can crawl on top of him and you slip your tongue into his mouth. dewdrop’s free hand finds a spot on the small of your back and for a brief moment you can feel warmth spread throughout your body.

“if you weren’t dead—”

“i know.” you pull away from his lips, a trail of saliva briefly connecting you two before snapping.

light from the sunrise starts to spill through the stain glass window, creating a beautiful rainbow effect that shines on the floor. the light begins to creep towards the bed the two of you sit on and you know you’ll be gone until nightfall again.

“thank you dew, till tonight.” you lean in and place one more kiss before the light shines on you, forcing you to disappear.

dewdrop sits alone in his room.

the next night dewdrop wastes no time the moment you tap on the glass. he practically shoots up and scans the room for your figure.

“someone missed me.” you giggle appearing at the foot of his bed.

dewdrop moves and pulls you onto the bed and hovers over you.

“of course i did.” he says before kissing you passionately.

a part of you is caught off guard but you quickly act on the situation and wrap your arms around his neck to deep the kiss.

dewdrop’s hands find their place on your waist as he starts kissing your jaw, then your neck and down your chest.

“i’ll never let the light touch you again, you are mine. it’s not allowed to take you from me.”

his touches burn your freezing skin and the temperature difference shoots pleasure between your legs.

“dew…”

his hand travels to the space between your legs and you can’t help but let out some lewd sounds at the feeling of his warm hand touching you.

“i will be your light, i will touch you and give you the warmth you crave.”

his fangs ghost over your skin as his fingers slip into your entrance hitting a sweet spot that makes your legs go numb almost immediately.

“fuck dew.” you moan out tangling your hand in his hair.

“i am going to fill you, turn over.” you quickly obey his instructions and turn over.

dewdrop grabs you by your thighs and pulls you so you’re flush to his crotch and you can feel how hard he is. he makes quick work of his pants and he gives himself a few pumps to spread the precum leaking out all around his cock before you pushes into you with ease.

“fucckkkk that’s it, relax baby.”

his hand trails from your ass down your back and up to the back of your neck.

“i’m going to start moving.” you whimper in response and nod, giving him the go ahead.

with each thrust more warmth spreads through your body and your moans start sounding borderline pornographic.

“i wonder…” dewdrop whispers to himself while shoving your head into his pillow.

dewdrop watches his cock continue to disappear into you and can’t help but think if he uses his powers and produces a very soft glow in his veins you’ll go semi transparent and he’ll be able to see himself inside you.

his thoughts are clouded by arousal and feeling you squeeze him so tight is going to send him over the edge.

“fuck it.” dewdrop mutters before using his powers to see himself inside you. “shit that’s hot, fuck i’m going to cum.”

“me too, cum with me dew.”

his eyes are glued on that soft light that moves in you and he feels himself cum undone inside you as you cum around him.

after cleaning you up drewdrop holds you close for the rest of the night and after almost an hour in his arms you realize that the fire ghoul had bought black out curtains and taped them together so the light wouldn’t come through.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

brought to you by snap and shake glow sticks for no particular reason :)

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 7th - Deepthroating (Papa Emeritus II x Male!Reader)

Tags: Soft-Dom Secondo, Deepthroating, Sex Education, Throat-Training, Religious Trauma, Internalized Homophobia, Catholic Guilt, Inexperience, Size Kink, Praise, Dick Piercings, Cum-Swallowing, First Person POV

When I left Catholicism to join the Satanic church, I thought it would be completely different. Don't get me wrong, in most ways, it is. A big part of why I left my previous faith was the guilt, the shame, the self-hatred. Coming to terms with my sexuality back then, everybody around me told me to pray it away, that I would go to Hell for my sins if I don't repent, all while those same people preach about a loving God.

When I first stepped foot in the Ministry, I was shocked at the overwhelming acceptance that this place radiated. Sexualities and gender identities of all kinds, expressed openly and without judgement. I'll admit, it took me a while to get used to it. Not just the whole unconditional acceptance part, but how open people here are in... other ways.

It's no surprise that the Ministry takes great pride in their sexual nature. Hell, Cardinal Terzo is known to host orgies on the regular. Brothers and Sisters of sin alike will talk of sex so casually, I can hardly have a conversation with my peers without my face flushing in embarrassment. While my old church condemned sex before marriage and preached purity and abstinence, it seems here the more sexually experienced you are, the higher praise and admiration you receive.

But the one thing the Ministry and my old church had in common? Shame. When I was at my old church, you were shamed for a variety of things, though in the ministry, it seems the only shame you receive is for not having sex. When word got out of my inexperience to my fellow Siblings of sin, the giggles and looks they would shoot me as I passed them by in the hallways were similar to how the people at church reacted when I came out. My shame shifted from my sexuality, to my lack of sexuality.

My shame, in a moment of desperation, led me to the chambers of Papa Emeritus II. I felt foolish, asking for assistance with something like this, but I know if anyone could help me with this kind of thing, it's him. Papa Secondo has been known throughout the Ministry for his sexual prowess, and according to some kind Siblings who've been in situations similar to mine, he also happens to be a very good teacher.

Sighing, I knocked on the door, so softly it was practically inaudible. I cringe at myself, fighting the urge to just run away and lock myself in my room. This whole idea was stupid anyway, I thought to myself. It's a wonder how he managed to hear my knocking, but before I could flee from the scene, he answered, towering over me intimidatingly and staring down at me expectantly. I practically have to pick my jaw up off the floor as I get a good look at him, face bare of paints and wearing nothing but a robe, carelessly tied around his waist.

"Brother ______... Can I help you?" He gruffed, sounding almost annoyed, which only made my confidence shrink more. Suddenly, my throat is painfully dry. I try to spit out a proper response, but all that can come out of me are incoherent stutters, unable to bring myself to ask the big question. He exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just come in."

I step in, nervously fidgeting with my hands, palms disgustingly sweaty. Secondo sits in one of his armchairs, waving his hand as a gesture for me to sit in the one parallel to his. I swallow harshly, obeying his unspoken request. "Drink?" He questions, pouring a glass of wine I didn't even notice he had grabbed. I shake my head no. He shrugs dismissively. "Suit yourself." He hums, swirling around the liquid in his glass before taking a long sip.

"Now, take a deep breath. Clearly whatever is on your mind is important to you, considering it beckoned a meak little thing like you to knock on my door at such a late hour..." He chuckles, but his demeanour reassures he's not laughing at me, which relaxes me a bit. "I am always willing to help out a Sibling in need, but you must tell me what you need first, si?"

I take a deep breath as he suggested, a last-ditch effort to calm my nerves. Here goes nothing. "I... I'm a virgin." I blurted out, practically having to force the words from my throat. Secondos expression remains unfazed. "I can tell." He says blankly. Goddamnit. "Are you asking me to change that, caro?"

"W-well, I... I don't k-know, really-" My face grows red in embarrassment, avoiding eye contact bashfully, which his piercing gaze made significantly difficult. "Then I won't." He states. "But I must ask, Brother _____; if you didn't come here for that reason, then what did you come here for?" I bite my lip, thinking for a moment.

"Truth be told, Papa, I'm not exactly sure what I want..." I let out a groan of frustration. I knew this idea was stupid. "I'm... ashamed. Everyone in the Ministry is so experienced, they all have stories to tell, and I just have... nothing. The other siblings look at me differently, they make fun of me behind my back. I'm tired of just being the virgin. I want to do the things they do, I want to have the experiences that they have-"

"_____." He says my name firmly, cutting me off abruptly. "You should never be ashamed of that sort of thing. Sex is not as important to the Ministry as you may think, caro. There are plenty of virgins here, and plenty others that aren't interested in sex at all. The whole point of embracing sexual freedom is getting to choose whether to have sex or to not, and neither option should warrant any judgement. If any particular siblings are bothering you, tell me now and they will be dealt with, but you must know that shame and embarrassment should never influence any of your decisions, especially not these kinds of decisions. Have I made myself clear?"

I nod, looking down at my feet to avoid tearing up. It felt strange to hear someone tell me I don't need to be ashamed, to reassure me I don't need to change. Strange, but nice. Secondo reached a hand out to rub my shoulder comfortingly. "Look at me, caro." He commanded, but he spoke so tenderly it felt more like a light-hearted suggestion. I did as I was told, lifting my head to meet his kind gaze. Dammit, here comes the waterworks.

"It's not just peer pressure that encouraged me to go to you. I really do want to do this sort of thing. My whole life, it was drilled in my brain that sex of any kind is something to be ashamed of, and completely unthinkable to do with another man. I've had to hide my desires for so long, I don't want to have to do that anymore. I want to do this, I just... I want to start off slow, y'know? And I want you to... to teach me." I admit, my voice breaking weakly as I open up to him. Secondo nodded as I spoke, listening intently. As intimidating as he can be, in this moment I felt as if I could tell him anything.

"What do you have in mind?" He asked. I thought about it for a moment. I couldn't help the blush that crept upon my cheeks when the thought popped up in my head; Something I was always curious about.

"I want to suck your cock." That sentence came out of my mouth as quickly as I thought it. That seemed to get a reaction out of the usually stoic Secondo, his eyes widening in surprise and his lips twitching into a smirk. I almost want to apologize for my boldness, but Secondo spreads his legs in appreciation, rendering me speechless. His robe comes looser, exposing more of his bare body, especially his muscular thighs. Still, it's not exposing the one part of him I'm most excited to see.

"Do you now?" He raises an eyebrow slyly. I practically start to drool as I look down at his lap, noticing the movement under his robe as his cock starts to harden and twitch. "Y-yes, Papa. I just, I- I might need a little help. I'm not exactly sure how..." I trail off, my focus on something else.

"I am more than happy to oblige." Secondo purrs, eyes narrowing and trailing down to my mouth, clouding with desire. "Come here, caro. Let me teach you." He takes a pillow from his armchair to place on the ground for me to kneel on, waving me over to him. With inhuman-like speeds, I plop down on my knees before him, rather ungracefully. Secondo doesn't seem to mind. Finally, he moves his robe out of the way, fully exposing his manhood to me.

I almost regretted coming to him for my first time, because surely that could not be a beginner size. He was at least 9 inches, thick and veiny, there was no way I could fit all of that down my throat, and- wait, is that a fucking Prince Albert? Just looking at him from this angle gets my dick to twitch through my pants, pulling a whimper from my throat. "Take the tip in to start, sweetheart." He tells me, and I do just that.

His tip is hot and heavy in my mouth, aside from the coolness of the metal from his piercing. He groans gutterally at the contact, my tongue involuntarily swirling around it, seeming to already know what to do. "Bravo ragazzo..." He grunts, my pants growing tighter at his words. His hand rests on the back of my head, looking down at me affectionately. "T-take it a little further, will you?" He asks so sweetly, I can't help but grant his wishes.

I gradually take more in my mouth, inch by inch, sucking gently as I make my way down, earning more delicious noises from Secondo. The straining in my pants is nearly impossible to ignore, but I push through for him. I keep going till I hit my gag reflex, not even able to take him halfway. I hum against his cock in disappointment, pulling away with a cough. "Sorry." I murmur awkwardly.

He lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing me to look up at his eyes. "Don't be sorry, caro." He tuts sternly. "You can take more, I know you can. Just relax your throat and let me do the work, hm?" Hesitantly, I agree, eager to please. I trust him enough to know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me or push my boundaries an uncomfortable amount. He gently pushes me back down on his dick, relaxing my throat as much as I can, ready as I'll ever be to let him take control.

He pushes my head down slowly, back to where I was last able to take it. He gives me a moment to prepare myself, before he grips the sides of my head, pulling my head further. I gag harshly a few times, and each time he pauses, allowing myself to get used to the invasion going on in my throat before continuing. He takes his time with me, stretching out my throat with immeasurable patience.

"You're doing so f-fucking well, caro. Such a good boy..." He gruffs. I moan around him happily, from both the praise and the fact I'm now able to take significantly more of him in my mouth. Once I've taken all I'm comfortably able to, he begins to shallowly thrust, in and out. "You're a natural, letting me take your tight, wet throat like this. Cazzo, sei divino..."

His thrusts grow quicker and harder the more confident I get, and it's not long before he's borderline fucking my mouth. I can't help but rub my hardened cock through my pants, an embarrassing wet spot forming from the precum I'm leaking. This is the most aroused I've ever been, that I've ever allowed myself to be, that I curse myself for taking this long to experience the joys and ecstasy of sexual pleasure.

"Sto per venire! Caro mio, c-can I cum in your mouth?" Secondo moans, panting heavily. I whine against his cock, sucking harder in hopes he'll take that as an answer. He does, his eyes rolling back in unabashed pleasure. "Oh, fuck!" He groans, releasing his thick load in the back of my throat. I swallow it all diligently, savoring the salty, somewhat bitter taste that I just know I'll grow addicted to.

I pull my mouth off his cock with an obcene pop, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. "Did I do good, Papa?" I ask, insecure of my ability and eagerly awaiting his response. He laughs, a genuine hearty laugh, something I've never seen him do. I don't know why, but something about it sent a fluttering warmth through my chest, a desire to hear him laugh again and again. That's something to question on another day, though.

"Is that even a question, caro? Satanas, you did wonderfully." Secondo smiles, helping me up off my knees. That's when he notices the bulge in my pants, throbbing painfully. "Oh, poor boy. Would you like some help with that, sweetheart?" He asks. My breath catches in my throat, heat rushing to my face. I nod profusely, my brain too fogged with lust to find the proper words.

He reaches for my zipper, undoing it and swiftly taking my cock out. Before I can react, his mouth is on my manhood in an instant, taking it all down his throat with no effort. I could only hope to one day be as good as sucking dick as he is. It isn't long before I'm cumming down his throat as well, reduced to nothing more than a shaking, whimpering mess. He swallows, grinning mischievously.

"Virgins are always so quick to cum." He teases, packaging my sensitive cock back in my pants. After catching my breath, I shoot him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Papa, for... y'know, all that." I say, struggling to compose myself. He hums, re-tying his robe. "No need to thank me, caro. I'm always willing to help." His voice rumbles, low and comforting.

"Do you think we could... do this again? Maybe teach me more things?" I ask, crossing my fingers in wishful thinking. He grins softly, caressing my cheek with his warm, calloused hand. "I would love to, Brother _____. You can come visit me anytime. I can promise you, you will not find a better teacher." He winks. And with that, I leave his chambers, returning to my own. For once, I'm excited for what the future entails, looking forward to my next meeting with Secondo.

-

[kelthebarb]

going feral for praise kink mountain & dom swiss

he’s so tall, so big, he’d always thought that he had to be the dominant one. until swiss flips the switch and absolutely rocks his shit.

mountain’s got swiss pushed up against a wall, kissing each other like their lives depend on it. they don’t need air — they’re practically living off of each others lips. both of them have extremely noticeable bulges in their pants, but they couldn’t care less who saw.

later, when they can finally find the restraint to pull away from each other, they practically sprint to mountain’s room. mountain tries to lay swiss down all nice and gentle, but swiss is having none of it. he immediately turns them both around, shoving mountain onto the bed and crawling on top of him.

mountain’s in shock, his breath hitching in his throat and his face flushed.

“you nervous?” swiss teases, grinning down at mountain with those pretty teeth.

“no,” mountain blurts out, causing swiss to chuckle. “don’t laugh at me!”

“i’m not,” swiss protests, moving to straddle mountain’s lap. “you’re just all red.”

mountain doesn’t have anything to say after that, he just looks away in shame and arousal. swiss’s grin only widens as he moves to undress them both.

once they’re both naked, mountain tries to climb on top of swiss again. and again, swiss immediately denies him of it.

he gets grabbed by the hips and bent over, his ass in the air and his face pushed against the pillows. at this point, mountain is so confused. wasn’t he supposed to be on top?

mountain’s hesitant to ask any questions, but swiss knows him all too well. he can see his stiffness, and he can smell his unease.

“what’s wrong?” swiss asks quietly.

mountain thinks for a second, craning his neck just a bit to look back at swiss. “aren’t you supposed to be on the bottom?”

swiss almost laughs. he gently squeezes mountain’s hips, leaning down to look him dead in the eyes.

“not today, baby.”

as soon as swiss pushes his thick cock inside, mountain’s gone. he’s never been fucked before, he’s always been the one doing the fucking. he’s immediately drooling on the sheets, pretty little noises slipping past his lips.

meanwhile, swiss is absolutely throbbing inside of him, groaning almost primally as he slams his hips against mountain’s ass.

“taking my cock so good, mountain.”

mountain has to hold back from cumming immediately once swiss’s words register in his fucked-out mind. swiss feels him clenching, and he grins.

“you’re being such a good boy for me,” he says, driving his cock deeper.

it’s too much for mountain — swiss’s heavy cock throbbing inside of him, swiss’s sweet words, his body being fucked into the mattress. he can’t speak, can’t even form a coherent thought while he’s being pounded so cruelly.

but he fucking loves it.

[a-fools-circus]

Salacious Want

Papa II/f!Reader

Desc: after confessing to Secondo how you've spent your time alone, he makes sure you know that the only person allowed to touch you is him Word Count: 6.3k Tags/Warnings: bondage, bdsm, impact play, degredation, edging/orgasm delay/denial, rough sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, choking, dom/sub, ownership, creampie, aftercare, bc aftercare is important and i want to showcase that i think Secondo fits the duality of being both a rough dom and a tender loving dom, please note that there is one moment when the reader claims to be overwhelmed, but every moment of sex beforehand and afterwards is consensual with both participants willing

this was originally intended to be a fic for Kinktober. obviously that didn't end up working out, BUT i still wanted to write this bc i liked the idea, and i've yet to give Secondo some love so here it is ! this ended up being very fun to write and way longer than intended so i think it's a win. Secondo stans i'm starting to understand you. enjoy babes <3

also available to read on ao3 here

Minors DNI/NSFW below the cut

It was only a few hours ago when you were sat in the shadowed corner of the confession booth. The only thing separating your figure from Secondo’s was the wooden lattice in the center. 

Secondo had been preoccupied with his responsibilities all day. It wasn’t his fault—the workload came with his status as Papa. You didn’t blame him for it, and he was adamant to remind you that he would rather spend his time with you. But you were left on your own. You had to sate your desires—by yourself—in private whenever you had the time. It was boring after the second or third time. Your own touch wasn’t nearly the same as his. 

You knew the risks that came with teasing him (most of which would come from him), but the opportunity presented itself perfectly when you realized that he would be hosting confession. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to do something to coerce him, to convince him to focus on you instead. Taunting him with the knowledge that he missed out on your pleasure seemed like the perfect way to rile him up. 

Armed with your knowledge, you taunted him from your shadowed corner of the booth, detailing every aspect of your indulgence. Every sound you made, every fantasy that crossed your mind, every part of yourself that you touched—it all came forward in your own kind of confession. 

Secondo was good at appearing disinterested. Annoyingly good. You could get on your knees and beg for an hour straight, and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He knew he could make you do whatever he wanted when you were desperate to be touched, and he used it to his advantage often.

But his silence from the other side of the confessional was more than feigned disinterest. You could practically feel the disapproval radiating through the lattice, somehow knowing he was staring with that stern gaze he only gave you. He was most intimidating when he was silent, but it was even more nerve-wracking not to be able to see his reaction. 

You made it worse by reminding him of his responsibilities; he had to continue carrying out the rest of confession for the following Siblings. You made your way out, leaving him to stew in his frustration as he was forced to ignore the aching arousal between his legs. That was the nail in the coffin. 

Once time granted him respite from his duties, he wasted no time finding you. 

Now you were sat on your knees on his bed, bent over with your face in his silken sheets. You were completely bare except for the collar around your neck and the restraints that bound your arms behind your back. You were placed near the edge of the bed, instructed to “keep your ass in the air and stay still.” 

You couldn’t see Secondo, but you could sense his steely gaze scanning every inch of your body as he stood behind you. There was no doubt he could see how wet you were; after what felt like hours of sitting here bound, you were getting desperate. 

The click of his shoes on the hardwood floor is the only sound in the room. Every echo of the sound makes you throb, your holes clenching around nothing. You’re sure that sight is obvious to him, too. But he says nothing as he looks over your restrained body. The anticipation in the air is thick, heavy on your mind as you wait for him to do or say something—anything. 

After what felt like an hour of staring, he finally reached a hand out to brush over your thigh. The cool texture of his leather glove surprises you. Secondo’s touch is featherlight, barely grazing your body as it slowly trails inward. His pace is maddening, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The trail of his hand stops when his fingers hover daringly close to the spot he knows you need him most. The space beside you on the mattress sinks as his knee comes to rest there. Secondo leans over you, still barely touching your skin. 

“Who does this pussy belong to?” Your senses heighten as the sound of his voice finally caresses your eardrums. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him. 

He’d discarded his regalia at this point, now wearing only the black turtleneck and dress pants he sported underneath. Just the sight of him made you want to pounce on him and make up for lost time. But you contained your impulses, humoring his demands as the threat of his dominance made you ache.

You swallow hard. The face paint he hadn’t bothered to clean off only made him look more intimidating. “You,” you whisper back to him. “You, Papa.”

“Mm. Bene…” His husky-toned affirmation almost makes you whine. “Then why did you touch it without permission?”

Secondo’s words catch you off guard at first. You start to speak, a tiny squeak leaving your mouth, but the words fail to form. You look away in embarrassment. Your eyes catch on the obvious bulge that strains against the front of his pants.

Suddenly, he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging firmly until your shoulders rise off of the mattress. Secondo leans in further, his breath warm against your ear. The scent of patchouli and tobacco floods your nostrils. “You will answer when I ask you a question, yes?” He growls, the sound of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering shut at the pain on your scalp. “Yes, Papa—”

“Look at me.” You do exactly as he says, your body thrumming with desire as your eyes flicker up to meet his. “Why did you touch yourself without Papa’s permission?”

“Because, I…I was desperate, Papa.” Your heart pounds in your chest at your confession. Judging by the way he scoffs, you assume your response isn’t satisfactory. 

“Desperate?” Secondo echoes. You nod in agreement. “What, desperate to make yourself cum just so you can tell me what a disobedient, needy whore you are?” The leather of his gloves squeaks as Secondo tightens his grip.

The degrading term sends a surge of arousal through you. The sensation is only heightened by his grip on your hair. “No, no, Papa…I…I just wanted to be touched. I really, really needed it.”

“Oh, is that it, piccolina? You just needed to be touched?” You nod fervently, humming a small “mm-hmm” in reply despite the blatant mockery in his tone. “Perhaps I should remind you how you taunted me, then. The way you told me how hot and wet you were when you fucked yourself? How you came so quickly by your own hand?”

Secondo punctuates his annoyance with another firm tug on your hair. You whine, hissing slightly at the soreness in your neck. “I…I didn’t mean it, Papa,” you manage to choke out. “I just…wanted you to know how much I missed you…How much I need you.”

“It sounds to me that the only thing you ‘need’ is a lesson in restraint, sì?”

A whine rumbles in your throat at his suggestion. You want to fight back, to argue and prove your point, but that would only garner more punishment. You nod in response before realizing your muteness is unsatisfactory. “Yes, Papa.”

Secondo releases your hair and you fall forward, your face planting into the sheets. He rises off of the bed to return to his place behind you. His hands run teasingly over your body with gentle brushes that give you goosebumps. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands move further down. 

You barely feel two of his fingers glide through your slit, your wet arousal gathering on his digits. You don’t know when he removed his glove, but you relish in the warmth of his bare hand instead of the cool leather. Your hips roll towards his touch in an attempt to gain any of the friction he seems to deny you. Your wrists twist in their restraints. His fingers spread you open to reveal your entrance. 

“Look how wet you are,” he taunts. The leash attached to your collar rustles before being pulled taut. Your head jerks back, your shoulders lifting off of the bed as your back arches. You can feel Secondo’s cock—hard and straining against his pants—as he presses against you. “Open.” You hear him growl. 

The demand sends a wave of heat through you. You comply, but you’re barely able to part your lips before his hand moves away from your cunt and his fingers force their way down your throat. You fight off the urge to choke in order to remain obediently willing. 

“You wished to show me how much you needed me, sì?” You nod, humming around his fingers. “Show me, then. Take my hand like you would take my cock.”

You eagerly heed Secondo’s words. Your mouth sucks and licks his fingers with enthusiasm, savoring the taste of your own arousal as it coats your tongue. You ignore the way your body aches from the awkward position he’s contorted you in. Saliva seeps from your lips and dribbles down your chin, escaping you as you swirl your tongue around his digits the same way you do with his cock. 

“Greedy little mouth…” Secondo growls as he watches you intently. His hand stays firmly enveloped in your mouth as he presses his body against yours. You groan around his fingers when you feel his cock press against your ass. “Look at you, drooling all over yourself, pretending my cock is down your throat. You look so desperate.”

You shift on the bed, trying to clench your legs together in a desperate attempt for friction at the sound of his degrading tone. Secondo notices immediately. His hand slides out of your mouth, not caring that strands of saliva spill from your wet lips, and delivers a harsh smack to the swell of your ass. The sound echoes in the room. The sudden sting makes you cry out, your eyes widening in surprise. 

A firm tug on the leash makes you choke momentarily. “Keep your legs spread,” Secondo growls, his hand reaching down to tug at your thigh and force your legs apart while the other pulls the leash taut. “If you can’t be good, you aren’t getting touched.”

Your hands tug at their restraints, fists clenching with frustration. “I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I’ll be good, I promise. Please touch me, please.” Your words come out in a flurry, rushed and desperate, as you pant for breath.

Secondo’s hand releases the leash, allowing you to fall forward again. His hand immediately snakes around your waist to land on the space between your thighs. Saliva-wettened fingers land on your clit and swirl in agonizingly slow circles. Your breath catches in your throat, a shaky gasp leaving your lips. Your hips jerk into his hand as a silent encouragement. 

Another sudden spank takes your breath away. His hand stops its movements and you whine. “Stay still. You’ll only take what I give you, sì?”

You nod, sighing dejectedly. “Yes, Papa.”

It takes all of your strength to keep your hips in place and resist the urge to grind into his hand when he continues to swirl his fingers. Your thighs tense and your mouth falls open with whimpers and moans. 

Secondo barely increases his pace at the sound of your pleasure. Your hands ball into fists in their restraints, a low groan ripping from your throat. You curse, desperately using every ounce of control to keep your hips still.

“Mia piccola puttana…she can be good when she wants to be, hmm?” He tilts his head, watching your pleasure-contorted features. His hand speeds up slightly and you gasp.

“Yes…Papa…Fuck…”

“She likes it, doesn’t she?”

“Yes…Yes, Papa, I like it…” Warmth pools in your abdomen, winding tighter with each swirl of his fingers. Your thighs begin to shake as you lose the battle of staying still. Your hips thrust desperately forward, eager to hit the orgasm that lingers so close to fruition. “Please, Papa. It feels so good…fuck..!”

Secondo pulls his hand away mere seconds before the warmth spills over. You cry out, a high-pitched whine ripping from your throat as your orgasm slowly dissipates. Your hips buck forward as if trying to chase his touch.

“Why did you—?”

“You don’t deserve to cum yet.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument no matter how badly you want to. “Poverina…you did not think I would give you what you want that easily, did you?” Your lips part to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. “Such a greedy whore…you made yourself cum and you think you deserve it by my hand?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Papa. I won’t do it again, I promise.” You whine, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea. The roll of your hips is slow as you feel the outline of his rigid length through his pants.

Another harsh slap comes down on the swell of your ass. You gasp, the sting coursing through you and halting your movements. “Now you think you deserve my cock?” Secondo’s grip digs into the skin of your hips as he accuses you, his grasp so tight you can almost feel the bruises begin to form.

“No, no, Papa. I don’t.”

“No, you don’t.” He taunts. His hand massages the red handprint blooming on your ass, soothing the lingering sting. “Are you going to start being good for Papa?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Bene…” He gropes your ass, the tight grip making the welts forming on your skin sting. “Now be a good girl and ask for it. Nicely.”

“Please, Papa…I want you to touch me. Please touch me.”

Secondo scoffs at your plea. “Now I know you can beg better than that.”

A whine builds in your throat, but you swallow hard to contain it. “Please, please, please, Papa. Please touch me. I need it so fucking bad.” You pant. “I need you. I need your touch. Please.”

Without warning, two fingers push past your entrance and stretch you open. You gasp at the sensation, cursing as Secondo pumps his fingers at an unrelenting pace that gives you no time to adjust or savor the feeling. Your nails dig into your palms as you whine at each thrust of his hand. 

“Fuck! Yes, yes…” You cry out, your cunt throbbing around his fingers. “Thank you, Papa. Fuck me…”

Secondo’s other hand holds you in place, gripping your hip so tight you think it’ll leave bruises. His fingers curl, searching for that sweet spot that’ll leave you crying out. As soon as he hits it, you curse in a loud gasp, your back arching to push your hips into his touch. He massages the spot with each pump of his hand, sending waves of pleasure through you that make your toes curl.

“Fuck, Papa! Yes, yes, yes. Right there. Right there.” Your moans fill the room, your cries reverberating off the ornate walls. Each plea is louder than the last. Your arms tug at their restraints, your hands flexing, desperate to hold on to something, anything.

Secondo groans, his voice husky. “Desperate whore, all worked up by my hand. You love it, don’t you?” You nod and mutter a small “mm-hmm”, too overwhelmed with his pace to form a proper response. “Fottuta troia,” he growls, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging until your shoulders lift off the bed. He leans over you, his fingers still pumping with their unwaveringly strong pace. “You answer your Papa, sì?”

You wince, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure that courses through you. “Yes, Papa. I…fuck—I’m sorry, Papa,” you manage to squeak out between moans.

“Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good my hand feels.”

“It feels…so fucking good, Papa,” you whine. Your words aren’t enough, evident by the way he tugs on your hair again for encouragement. His lack of response has you on edge. “You fuck me so good. I-I love the way your hand feels in my pussy.”

The tight grip on your hair is unrelenting. The awkward position you’re held in makes your back sore, but the pleasure granted to you overrides any discomfort. Warmth builds in your abdomen yet again, swirling and coiling with the need for release. Your thighs tense, your walls tightening around his fingers as your pants grow quick and loud.

“Oh, fuck…I’m…P-please…” Your voice quivers as you beg. “Please, Papa, can I cum this time?”

Secondo nuzzles against your neck, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. “Oh, dolcezza,” his words seem sweet, but you recognize the mocking in his tone. “Asking like that, you almost have me convinced.” His fingers pull out of you, a wet, squelching noise accompanying their retreat. “Almost.”

The whine that escapes you is even louder, even more desperate than before. “No, Papa…why did you…” You stammer and whine, unable to form a complete sentence. You almost feel like you could cry as the coil of warmth slowly dissipates. He releases your hair, a grunt escaping you as you fall forward onto the mattress and he moves away. “Please touch me again, I can’t…I need to cum.” Your hips roll in the air, desperate for some form of contact.

“You need it?” You hear him echo, almost as if he’s mocking your plea.

You nod your head and hum a small “mm-hmm” with a whine. “Yes, Papa, I need it. I need to cum so fucking bad.” You shiver when you feel his fingertips reconnect with your heat for just a moment, barely grazing over your folds. “Please, just keep fucking me. I was so close, I—”

Secondo cuts you off with a harsh spank, the sound echoing in the room. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, dragging you backward until your ass is flush against his body. And his achingly hard cock that strains behind his pants.

“Greedy whore thinks she deserves to cum already…” He mutters as his hands trace the swell of your ass.

“No…no, Papa, I didn’t mean that…” You pant, your breath heavy. “I just…fuck, I want it so bad. Please…”

He goes silent as his hands continue to trace gently over your skin. The silence heightens both your nerves and your desperation. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence. “Tell me again, cara: who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Papa.”

“Bene.” He presses his body more firmly against you. A quiet whimper escapes your lips at the feeling of his cock so close yet trapped beneath layers. “This pussy is mine. Mine to use and fuck whenever I feel like it.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Say it.”

“My…my pussy is yours, Papa. Yours to use, yours to fuck.” You swear you feel his cock throb behind his pants.

His torso presses against your restrained wrists as Secondo leans over you. If you weren’t so afraid of being punished and denied any longer, you’d grab ahold of his shirt and tug him closer. His hands move to your hips, where his nails dig into your skin. “You cum when I tell you to. When I decide you deserve it.” His voice is a sultry whisper, like a smooth velvet that wraps around your senses. It makes you want to forget about your own desires. 

You nod, sighing at his words. “Yes, Papa.”

“If you pull another stunt like that—taunting me with your impatience—I’ll tie you up and make sure you don’t cum for hours. Do you understand?”

The thought makes you shiver in a mixture of arousal and fear. You swallow hard, nodding your head again. “Y-yes Papa…”

“Are you going to be good for Papa?” His hips roll against you, and while the friction isn’t stimulating for you, it makes you gasp nonetheless. 

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, Papa. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“No more touching yourself without Papa’s permission, sì?”

“Yes, Papa.”

His hands squeeze your hips, but the gesture is more playful than painful. “Molto bene.”

Secondo ruts against you, dragging the bulge in his pants along the curve of your ass. He groans before moving to grind against your slick heat. The wetness of your arousal seeps through and stains the fabric of his pants. He couldn’t care less. 

One of his hands slides up the arch of your back, avoiding your restrained wrists and caressing your spine. “You want Papa’s cock, sì?” 

“Yes. Yes…please, Papa,” you whine breathlessly.

His other hand trails down your hip and over the swell of your ass before groping you firmly. His grasp is rough, making the welts that have formed from his spanks sting. “Beg for it, puttana.”

You sigh in frustration at his words. “Please, Papa. Please put your cock in me.” You fight with every ounce of restraint to keep your hips still. You want nothing more than to rub and bounce your ass against him, to hear him groan and curse at the friction. But you know doing so would earn you another punishment. “I want it—I need it—so fucking bad. Please, please.”

Secondo leans away from your body. The loss of his touch leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yearning harder for him. “She needs it, she says…” You hear him mock you as the faint sound of a zipper catches your attention. 

You groan at the familiar feeling of his cock as the rigid and warm flesh lands on your ass. Secondo wraps one hand around the base, his other hand gripping your hip as he guides his cock to the space between your legs. He barely brushes against you, only allowing enough contact to cover himself in your slick arousal. The light friction makes you whine.

It’s not until you feel the head of his cock rub against your swollen, neglected clit that you stop whining and start panting. It’s even harder to stay still, especially when his pace is so languidly slow. 

Your toes curl with strain. “Papa, please…I can’t…I can’t wait anymore…”

Another harsh spank comes down on your ass, making you hiss. “You can, and you will.” He growls. “Be good.” He continues the light and gentle grinding, his hands moving to rest on your ass and spread you open for his viewing pleasure. “Sathanas,” he curses, the sound making you throb and clench around nothing, which he certainly notices. “Così bagnato per me...you are a desperate little whore, aren’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Papa.” Your nails dig into your palms as your body tenses in anticipation. “Please give it to me.”

He slides his cock along your folds, moving back and forth in long, sensual strokes. He pulls back to guide the head of his cock to sit at your entrance and grazes it teasingly, never pushing forward with enough force to enter you. You know he’s savoring the way you whimper and squirm. You groan, the sound turning into a whine.

“Please, Papa…” Your voice is breathless at this point, so desperate you could cry. “Please, please, I can’t wait anym—Ah!”

You’re cut off by his sudden, forceful thrust forward as he buries himself inside you with one movement. The stretch of your walls stings, making you hiss and curse. Your wrists tug at their restraints and your thighs go tense as he immediately starts a rough and unrelenting pace, giving you no time to acclimate to his intrusion.

Each thrust is met with one of your loud and desperate moans. Secondo runs his hands over the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing gently over your skin in a manner that completely opposes his rough movements. He groans, the sound sending heat to your core, and you feel him lean over your body. 

The leash suddenly goes taut. Your head is lifted off of the mattress, strangling your moans as they leave your mouth. “This is what you wanted, sì?” He growls into your ear, punctuating his question with a set of firm thrusts. “To be fucked hard and rough like the whore you are?”

“Yes! Fuck…fuck, yes…” You cry out, voice strained against the collar around your throat. “Thank you, Papa, thank you…Lucifer below, it feels…so good…”

He leans back and pulls the leash with him. His free hand holds your hip tight, his grip strong enough to make you ache. He groans, cursing something in Italian under his breath, before spanking you again. Your walls flutter around him at the pain. “Dillo di nuovo. Tell Papa how good his cock feels.” His voice is low and rough, practically a growl, as he pounds into you.

“Your cock feels so fucking good, Papa…” Your eyes flutter shut as your head becomes light. Your moans and whines are guttural, choked out by your collar. “I love it…I love the way you fuck me…Don’t stop, Papa.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on it, puttana.” Secondo punctuates the word with a particularly rough thrust, making you cry out with a strangled moan. “You’re going to cum for me—when I tell you to.”

The room fills with sounds of your pleasure; moans and cries leaving your lips and the repeated, quick slapping of skin against skin. His own groans hit your ears and excite you further. He pounds into you with a relentless rhythm, quick and hard thrusts that make your body tremble under him.

“Papa…I’m gonna—fuck…” You feel your thighs shake, unsteady as the warmth in your abdomen tightens.

“Not yet.” He snaps back. He tugs on the leash again, making your head lighter as air escapes your lungs. “Solo un’altro po…”

It’s almost impossible to hold on any longer. The heat that swirls in your abdomen coils tighter and tighter with each thrust, the impending release crescendoing with no sign of stopping. All you can choke out is a quiet, strained “please” in between his powerful thrusts. 

Secondo groans at your tight and wet heat, the sound turning into a slight chuckle that reverberates in your ear as he leans in. “Poverina…you need it, don’t you?” His voice is light and sweet despite the mockery in his tone. You nod before muttering a small “yes, Papa” in return. “Cum for me, tesoro. Cum on Papa’s cock.” He growls in your ear, his pace never wavering.

It takes only a few more of his rough thrusts to send you over the edge. The sound that leaves you is one you didn’t know you could make: a loud and guttural moan built up from constant denial that spills involuntarily from your lips. Your entire body tenses and trembles underneath him as waves of pleasure make you throb and clench around him. His pace never changes, working you through the high until your muscles go lax. 

His thrusts slow down until they become slow rolls of his hips against your weak body. He releases the leash, letting your head fall against the mattress with a soft thud. His hands trail over your breasts as he leans to place a small, gentle kiss on your back between your shoulder blades. 

“I’ve never heard you make those pretty sounds before.” He mutters against your skin. His hands knead your chest as he continues to roll his hips against you languidly.

A weak smile forms on your face. “I…I told you I was desperate,” you pant between heavy breaths. You groan with each of his thrusts, the leisurely pace doing nothing to soothe the overstimulation. “Thank you, Papa. Thank you for—ah—letting me cum…”

His hands trail down your body, his touch tracing your curves before returning to your hips as he leans back. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dolcezza.”

You barely process his words before he pounds into you again. He wastes no time finding another intense and rough rhythm. Your body tenses as the overstimulation makes you whine, your hands balling into fists as they tug at their restraints. You cry out, your body shaking under the power of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Papa! Shit, shit, shit…”

Secondo’s deep groans fill the air, complimented by the wet sounds of sex. “Merda. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.” One of his hands lands on the small of your back, purposefully avoiding your bound wrists.

Every thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, surges of overstimulating ecstasy that course through every inch of your body. It’s an overwhelming sensation, making every muscle tense and every moan and whimper more desperate than the last. Your noises only spur him on, each pathetic sound met with a powerful thrust that makes you whine louder. 

“Papa…fuck, I can’t…it’s too much…” Your knuckles turn white as you ball your hands into fists. The overstimulation hurts, but the pain only adds to the pleasure he gives you. You trust him enough to know he’d drop everything if you were genuinely hurt. But right now, he knew you had no interest in stopping.

The leash suddenly goes taut, your head lifting off of the mattress again at his sudden tug. He spanks you again, your cry strangled by his sharp tug on the leash. “Fucking take it,” you hear him growl. Another spank makes you whine. “You’ll take my cock until I’m done with you, puttana.”

You groan at his words, your back arching into his thrusts. “Y-yes, P-Papa…”

His thrusts turn sharp and quick as he ruts against you. It’s primal and needy—almost animalistic—the way he moves. Each slap of his hips against your ass makes you hiss, the welts left from his hand stinging at every movement. Your body remains tense, every drag of his cock along your walls causing you to clench around him.

“Così fottutamente buono...questa figa è perfetta, tesoro…” You can barely hear his low, husky voice over the sound of skin meeting skin. Secondo tugs again on the leash, making you groan as your head jerks back. He leans down until his breath hits your ear. “You’re going to cum again for me, dolcezza.” His tone is clear—his words are a command, not a suggestion. “I want to feel this pussy milk my cock.”

The vulgarity in his words makes you whine. “Yeah…yes, Papa—fuck, I wanna milk your cock dry.”

“Sì, that’s what you want, giusto? You want Papa to cum in you and fill you up?” He growls in your ear, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, Papa, I want your cum…Please, pump me full.” You strain to speak against the tight collar, but your plea is loud and desperate. 

You can hear his breathing growing heavier. You can tell he’s getting close. He shoves his cock as deep as he can as his thrusts turn into forceful rolls of his hips as he grinds against you. The friction makes the marks on your ass sting. 

Secondo’s free hand snakes around the curve of your hips, wasting no time finding your swollen and aching clit. His fingers swirl in time with each movement of his hips. The rhythmic pace between his deep penetration and the delicious friction of his hand makes you writhe under him. 

You curse, your hips jerking wildly into his hand and against his hips, too overstimulated to find a rhythm. “Papa…Papa..!” You cry out and whine as your eyes screw shut. 

He knows exactly how to make you tremble, all of the movements that send you closer to the edge and make you melt under his touch. The repeated clenching of your cunt makes him groan and curse. 

“Fuck, Papa! I’m gonna…Sathanas, I’m gonna cum again, shit…” You feel your thighs shake and tremble, every muscle in your body tensed as the heat in your abdomen returns, mounting to a high.

Secondo pants, tugging on the leash again. “Dai, dai…cum for me, cum for Papa.”

The dual pleasure leaves you unable to resist, the sensations overwhelming your body. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the last. Your body shakes and your moans turn into whines as the pleasure leaves you overwhelmed. You don’t even notice the few tears that escape as you writhe and tremble. He works you through the high, his hand swirling perfectly against your sensitive core to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. He only removes his hand once your whines turn to hisses. 

The continuous, rough movements enacted on your overwhelmed body borders on pain. But you know he’s close, evident by his heavy breathing and groans as he pounds into you with the last of his strength. His grip is tight on your hip as the other hand holds your leash taut to keep your body in place.

With one final powerful thrust, Secondo stills as he spills himself into you. You feel every kick and pulse of his cock as he fills you. He groans, growling something in Italian, but you’re too far gone to comprehend it. He releases his grip on the leash, allowing your head to fall to the mattress.

Your body goes lax as he pulls out of you. Both of you grunt at the sensation. A wet squelch fills the air as you whine at the emptiness, too accustomed to his presence despite how overwhelming it feels. Your hips fall flat on the bed as you pant for breath and groan at the soreness in your back. 

A wave of relief courses through you as your wrists are released from their restraints. The ache in your shoulders is painfully evident now that you can move freely. You roll onto your side, blinking heavily as you look up to see Secondo’s face. 

His paint is smeared in various places, streaked by beads of sweat. His chest heaves with his own heavy breaths. You get the urge to scold him for exerting himself at his age.

He leans over you, reaching down to unfasten the collar around your neck. You instinctively tilt your head to make the process easier. You sigh when the garment is removed, allowing your skin to breathe and give your neck a break. Your eyes are heavy as you watch him place the collar and restraints on the nightstand with care. 

Secondo leans down again, running a hand through your hair. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Un momento, bella,” he mutters against your skin before leaning away.

You watch as he walks in the direction of the adjoining bathroom before he disappears past the doorway. A small smile graces your face. It was easy to get intimidated by him, by his steely gaze and guarded demeanor, but he showed you a tenderness that no one else could match. 

It was never as evident as it is in these moments. When he walks back into the room with a damp washcloth in his hand, your heart swells. He always takes the time to treat you so gently after sex, especially when it’s rough. 

He cleans you carefully, running the washcloth over your flushed skin. He moves you with a sense of care and worship, like you’ll shatter beneath his touch if he isn’t careful. The warmth of the wet fabric is soothing, making you sigh with each stroke. He occasionally leans down to place kisses along your skin.

Once you’re clean, he lays the cloth on the nightstand. You know he’ll retrieve it later, probably after you’ve drifted off to sleep. He guides you to lay against the pillows, helping you move in your sore state. You groan at the aching pain in your body—the sting of your ass, the soreness in your shoulders, the aching of your back. He runs a hand over your thigh, fingers barely grazing your skin as his touch trails over the swell of your ass. 

“You’re still red,” Secondo remarks. You feel the slight tingle of discomfort, your skin warm from the welts that have formed. “You must still be sore.”

You can hear the concern in voice, almost as if he regrets what he did. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

You smile at him, at his worry. “Yes, I’m sure.” You extend an arm towards him, beckoning him closer with your hand. “Now come here. I want you to lay with me.”

“Oh, is that right?” He teases. Despite his sarcastic tone, he’s already kicking off his shoes. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes. It is. You need your rest too, old man.”

You hear him scoff before he climbs onto the bed and situates himself beside you. “‘Old man’, huh?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your back is flush against his chest. He’s careful to keep distance between your hips so as not to irritate your welted skin. “Stai attento, mia cara. You wouldn’t want another punishment so soon, would you,”

You giggle at his words, laying your hand atop his arm and pulling him closer. You groan as you settle against the bed, attempting to allow your aching body to relax. You feel his arm move away from your waist. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, his thumb massaging firm circles into your sore muscles. The gesture makes you smile, your head turning back to look at him.

“You don’t have to do that, Papa.”

“Oh, of course I do,” he responds, his hand working towards your shoulder blades. His lips brush over your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Mia piccola bellezza was so good for her Papa. She deserves to be taken care of.” His lips land on your neck, trailing kisses down to your shoulder. “You’re always so good for Papa,” he mutters between kisses.

He leans in to kiss you, and you turn to meet his movement. The gesture sends sparks through you. You smile against his lips, pressing into his kiss and relishing in the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep after that. You laid there, allowing him to tend and care for you however he felt necessary. Not every touch was meant to massage or tend to your sore muscles, but you didn’t care. Just having his hands on your body was enough. 

This was how he showed his love to you, and you found nothing but comfort and security in his arms.

[cease-your-release]

Little Dog (Smut ver)

After a long day of work, and with absolutely no time to see each other throughout, Copia gets a little impatient once you're back in his arms.

Content warning(s): Copia is compared to a dog, he also licks himself off of the reader's behind.............

Haiiii I'm back from my little hiatus! Hopefully this one is better than my first smut attempt... hehe...I may add more to this since it was ended on a cliffhanger, especially if the people want it!I've had some brain rot thanks to an artist on X depicting Copia doing puppy-play, that doesn't totally happen here but it definitely has influence. Hope you like!

Also on A03!

Fluff version

    You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it

"I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his already hardened cock. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light to be more intimate, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his crotch moving against your rear. They don’t seem calculated, which leads you to believe it’s not on purpose. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your moans, though finding himself just as, even more, affected by this contact as you are. He's grunting and rutting on you, but he is more aware of it now. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support. 

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hips up and down with more purpose, effectively dry humping you.

“That’s good, baby, just like that~” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more desperate, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia nips at your neck ever so softly, not wanting to break skin but to make you feel just as good as he does. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling moan at the various sensations of him. The grinding was one thing, but the bite and grope have you melting. You whine, starting to sway your hips over his lap, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and hot against his skin. “Good boy~”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. Copia whimpers at the mixed feelings- your kisses, the way you move so expertly over his stiff member, which is weeping with pre-cum -and bites his lip, his eyes closing as he moans. You can already feel his cock twitching occasionally. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to grab your hip, holding you tighter. He’s fully thrusting up against you now, and making noises so adorable it's almost painful.

You smile when you notice the shift in his sounds, along with his actions, but it doesn’t truly register what’s happening until it’s done. 

In another minute or so you feel hot and wet hit your backside, and shudder with the sensation, then feel him slump behind you, his body limp. It occurs so suddenly, he must have had this desire pent up for a while. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, anticipating his upcoming reaction.

Copia blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he came before even being inside of you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking with that much of a rush, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't disgusted with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle. “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, a pervert?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog going through its first heat.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited, horny dog, humping its favorite toy, just makes him so embarrassed- and a bit warm. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, almost sensually, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sultry. "You're making me, eh… do that again." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your seduction because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and shift slightly on his lap, a muffled noise coming from your mouth. “I know, I can feel it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. He really did make quite the mess, it having smeared over your skin. Being compared to a glazed donut would be surprisingly accurate. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll do that properly, okay?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him. He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face.  "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you.

He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass coated in his spend... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially pleasure. “Copia, I’m covered in your-” You try to remind him, as if he can’t see it right in front of his eyes, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your blood running just that much warmer. “I-I’ll help wash your face too, okay?”

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick you clean, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "Yes please..." He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours for the taking at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet whimpers escaping you at the feeling and image of him licking himself off of your ass. “Fuck, baby~” You sigh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly lean yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be.

He lets out a low groan, that name making him ache with how much he wants to hear you say it in the way that's most intimate to him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

"Ti senti così bene…" ~ "You feel so good..."

[serene-sun]

18+ minors dni!

The nameless ghouls and their favorite sex positions

Sodo/dewdrop: boy this boy sure does have many favorites, but his top three are legs up, counter top, and doggy style. In legs up, he just loves the way he gets closer to you-pumping himself further and deeper inside. When doing counter, dew likes the idea of doing it anywhere anytime. Doggy style is pretty self explanatory, I mean any chance to hammer into you in front of a mirror…

Swiss: this fucker stands up, he makes positions nobody is even brave enough to act out. But whatever positions makes your face best watchable in a dirty 6ftX6ft mirror is best, count that as his favorite.

Aether: PILLOW PUMP, fuck does he love some pillow pumping. He is always down to lay you on his bed-atop with very own pillow- completely naked and pump you full of him. Fuck does he love to breed in this position. He wants to hold every inch of you as he does it.

Mountain: the lotus, oh does this boy love this position. He loves to tower of you as you sit in his lap, buried deep inside of you. Your forehead comes to about just his chest, shoulders if your lucky. This give this earth ghoul power, reign, total control as he looks down at your form tightening around his long length.

Rain: bicycle pump, the scissor straddle? Uhm yes! This ghoul will do ANYTHING to be close to you if not completely intertwined with you. He only wants the feels, so he isn’t too much on positions but whatever you want is what he wants!

[forlorn-crows]

@miasmaghoul tortured me last week with visions of trans aether + pussy eating. @askingforthesun blindly chose dewther over mount/aethe for me, so here we are.

a short little smutty something about dew sucking aether's fat tdick

>:)

“That's it, just like that,” Aether praises, gripping Dew’s hair minutely tighter. Forcing his head to tip back just so, chin grazing Aether’s wet entrance each time he bobs up and down on that plump little dick. 

Aether tosses his head back with a halted fuck as the fire ghoul sucks hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive head. Lips pushing back the hood. He forces himself to look back down—back into those glassy, half-lidded slivers of copper that gaze up at him with need. So content to suckle on him for as long as Aether likes, for as long as it takes to get him dripping and puffy and begging for Dew’s cock. 

That'll take ages today, though. Aether wants to grip his hair and drag him on and off and on and off until Dew’s crosseyed and seeking friction on the air between his feet. 

The both of them are nothing if not devoted. 

“So pretty with your lips on me,” the quint ghoul rumbles. He pulls Dew off with one hand—hot, slick mouth far too empty—and reaches down. Picking up the underside of his cock with one finger and jiggling it in front of his lips.

Dew whines. Drool falls off his tongue in a stretchy line, snapping when he opens his mouth that much wider.

“Yeah? You want it?” Aether pulls him back so his bottom lip is a hair's breadth away from his flushed clit. “Want me to give it to you?”

Dew nods, eyes never leaving Aether’s face. Another line of drool descends towards the floor like molten sugar.

Aether groans and guides it into his mouth, tapping it a few times on his taste buds before pressing his nose into his nest of hair and molding his mouth around his folds. Bucking his hips into delicious, needy warmth. 

Dew’s eyes flutter, and he sucks obediently, lips buzzing against Aether’s skin each time he pulls away. A harsh, sloppy sound that the quint ghoul can't get enough of, let alone the lovely whines huffed through his nose or the full body groans that vibrate through his core as Dew’s hands scrabble for purchase on his thighs. Sinful and lewd, indicative of how badly he (both of them, really) wants it.

“Sloppy,” Aether groans. Dew only hums in agreement, cupping his length with the flat of his tongue. His own cock twitches between his legs, wet with pre, bouncing up towards his stomach. “Keeping it nice and hard for me, aren’t you?”

Aether allows him to pull off with a pop. He looks at him with swollen lips and a crimson flush on his cheeks. “Want more of you,” he rasps, hands kneading at the front of the quint ghoul’s thighs. Slipping behind instead to grab his ass and pull him closer. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles into the apex of his thigh, looking up at him through light eyelashes. He bats them enticingly. “Want you on my face.”

Aether groans, dick kicking next to Dew’s face. “Fuck, Dewy,” he breathes, petting the side of his face. “Get that pretty nose nice and wet?”

The fire ghoul digs his nails into Aether’s ass. Breath hitching through a moan. “Yeah,” he says. “Long as you want.”

Aether smiles and purrs, thumb running along Dew’s wet lower lip and slipping inside. Again, the fire ghoul suckles without hesitation, the suction almost just as nice on his thumb as it was on his dick. 

“Get on the bed, baby boy,” he commands.

He steps back, still holding his hand out in a gentlemanly fashion, so that Dew can rise up on shaky knees and melt himself into the sheets. Positioning himself the perfect distance from the headboard for Aether to take his seat and have something to rest his arms against. The fire ghoul’s cock stands at attention as he beckons Aether with grabby hands. 

The bigger ghoul crawls over him, shuffling until his knees bracket Dew’s ears. Humming when his small hands track up his thighs and grab at his hips. Dew looks up at him with hunger, love, and desire in equal measure, and Aether’s knees just about give out right then. 

But.

He places his hands atop the headboard. Knees shifting further apart until that proud nose is close to kissing the tip. And then, just because he can, he sneaks his tail down the length of Dew’s body until the leathery end caresses right along the seam of his tight sac, pressing upwards towards the base until he wrings out a surprised gasp.

His mouth drops open with divine timing as Aether purrs:

“Open up.”

[her-satanic-wiles]

Soul Stalker

Dewdrop/Sodo x Transmasc!Reader

In the eerie moonlit forest, you are ensnared in a nightmarish game of hide and seek with the malevolent entity Dewdrop, whose demonic force has targeted you. The chilling objective is to survive until sunrise, seeking refuge in the Ministry’s cabin deep within the sinister woods. With the dawn as your only salvation, you must navigate the haunted forest, outwit the relentless demon, and reach safety before Dewdrop claims you as his prize. The race against time intensifies, making the night unforgiving as you strive to survive until sunrise in this twisted pursuit.

Masterlist ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissioned by @dantesunbreaker

Words: 10.9k.

Reading Time: 40 min.

Warnings: biting, choking, comparing loss of breath to drowning, degradation, dubcon elements, face slapping, fear kink, fellatio, fingering, “forced” cum drinking, “forced” fellatio, fucked dumb, hide and seek, horror, knotting, masturbation, mean dom!Dew, mild praise, mind break, monster fucking, I’m in my element, objectification, pain kink, physical violence/fighting, PIV sex, predator/prey, rough fellatio, self choking, skull-fucking, transmasc!Reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal sex, violence

This is low key giving Shia LeBeouf Live by Rob Cantor and I’m not mad about it. Also, kind of exaggerated like hentai, sorry not sorry.

Taglist: @dantesunbreaker @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @namelesshumanperson @gorie-talks-a-lot

🔞 MDNI 🔞

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

You wanted to see. You’d asked him to show you because you didn’t think it would be this bad. As literal demons walking around the Ministry, the Ghouls were tame. Good. Calm. You’d never feel afraid of one, especially Dewdrop. But there you were, squashed into a narrow broom cupboard - more akin to a coffin than a cupboard - with your hand over your mouth and trying desperately to calm your breathing. As you’d asked, Dew had let the full demon out - and this twisted game of hide and seek became more high-stakes than you’d anticipated. At any point you could stop, just by screaming one word Dew would resume control again and return to his human-adjacent personality. But there was something about the fear, the predator hunting you down with eyes darker than night, sharp claws and teeth that could rip you to shreds if Dew didn’t have the control he promised you, that kept you from tapping out too soon. The game was on, the stakes were high, and your heart rate was out of control.

Your mind raced with thoughts - Dew was right behind you a moment ago: your screams echoing as you ran through the Ministry like your life depended on it, because it quite possibly did. Where was he now? Why did he let you escape? He should have been there, chasing you to the dead end and claiming his prize… so why was it quiet? Was he waiting you out? Was he outside? You pressed your ear to the thin door and listened for something, anything, to tell you that he was waiting. His breathing, his chuckling, something.

Nothing.

You rested your hand on the door handle and pushed it down gently… slowly… silently. You opened it briefly, your body tense and prepared to run if you needed to. The door cracked open a small bit and you expected to see Dew’s unmasked face in the slither.

Nothing.

You got braver, opening the door just enough to stick your head out. You peeked left. Right.

Nothing.

Dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up.

Nothing.

“___.” He called, your name ringing on his lips like a twisted song. It was quiet. Distant. But too close for your liking. Quickly and quietly, you retreated back into the cupboard, closing the door with a hushed click. You held your breath. Listening. Waiting. “Where is he?” He asked, his voice more sinister than the tune he sang your name in. But still, it was soft, as though he were trying to draw you out in comfort. Lull you into his stomach. “Where’s my lovely… little… boy?”

You could hear his heavy boots clunk against the carpeted floors. Slow, deliberate steps amplified by the late time and all the Siblings tucked away in their beds, warm and safe from Dew’s wrath.

“I can smell you.” He told you. “I can smell your fear, ___.” You heard his claws scrape along the walls. “It smells divine.” He began trying each door along the corridor, tugging at the handles and swinging open the unlocked ones, grunting in frustration when you didn’t appear. That was when you realised, you didn’t lock the door. You put your hand on the lock and turned it, grateful that this room had the ability to lock it from the inside and you waited - listening to Dew getting closer and closer.

As Dew’s claws scraped against the walls, the scent of terror became an irresistible aroma for him, bringing him ever closer. The sound of the door handle being tried made you freeze in fear, the lock your only pitiful defence against the impending nightmare that awaited you in the Ministry’s shadowed halls.

With a gut-wrenching creak, the cupboard door shifted slightly as Dew applied force from the outside. Panic surged within you, and you held your breath, praying that the lock would hold. The eerie silence outside shattered as Dew’s low growl permeated the air. You gasped, but kept your hand over your mouth, praying that he didn’t hear you.

“I know you’re in there, my pet,” he hissed, the sinister undertone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “There’s no hiding from me.”

The tension in the narrow space escalated as the door handle continued to rattle, Dew’s frustration evident in every metallic clang. Your mind raced, searching for an escape route or a hiding place within the cupboard that might shield you from his malevolent gaze.

Just as you felt the lock strain under the relentless assault, a sudden diversion disrupted Dew’s pursuit. A distant sound, a creak or a moan, drew his attention away momentarily. The cupboard’s door ceased its ominous rattling, and you could almost sense Dew’s predatory focus shifting elsewhere. You willed him away, silently praying and pleading for him to disappear.

In the stifling darkness, you hesitated, caught between the desperate urge to escape and the paralyzing fear of making a noise. Dew’s voice echoed in the corridor, distant but filled with malicious intent.

“I’ll find you, ___,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “No corner in this Ministry can keep you from me.”

Taking advantage of the momentary respite, you carefully cracked the cupboard door open, your eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor. Dew’s footsteps echoed in the distance, drawing him away for now. With cautious steps, you emerged from the confinement of the cupboard, acutely aware of every creaking floorboard beneath your feet.

The ominous atmosphere enveloped you as you navigated the dimly lit corridor, each step a gamble between the safety of the shadows and the exposure to Dew’s relentless pursuit. The scent of fear lingered, a haunting reminder of the stakes in this demonic game of hide and seek.

You had to navigate the Ministry quickly but silently, keeping your toes light and your eyes and ears peeled for movement or sounds. You’d chosen midnight to play the game, knowing that the corridors would be quiet and you’d be able to avoid the traffic of the rest of the Ministry. And as Dew was only focussed on your scent, he’d gun for only you - hunt only you.

Turning a corner, your eyes flared as you caught a glimpse of activity in the distance. A fleeting shadow flickered along the edge of your vision, making your heart skip a beat. Fear rushed through your veins as you pressed against the cold stone wall, disappearing into the darkness like a spectre. The footsteps, rhythmic and deliberate, approached from around the corner. The shape of Dew’s thin figure appeared, his demonic aura producing an unsettling glow that twisted the air around him. His eyes, dark as the abyss, swept the passageway for any sign of your presence.

In the oppressive silence, you held your breath, praying that the darkness concealed you effectively. Every muscle tensed as Dew’s gaze lingered, seemingly aware of your proximity. The fear that had gripped you in the broom cupboard returned with a vengeance, clawing at your insides. Dew approached, mixed with the aroma of malevolence. The corridor seemed to narrow as his predatory senses zeroed in on the location where you had hidden yourself. Panic threatened to overtake you, compelling you to run, but deciding whether to reveal yourself became a tactical decision, a high-risk bet in the fatal pursuit. Despite your brain screaming at you, you held your ground, disappearing into an alcove without a door and remained still.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Suddenly, his form was right in front of you, illuminated by the glow of the candles. His long, silky blonde hair fell around his horns, and you couldn’t help but notice his otherworldly beauty despite the dire situation you were in. He could smell you - you know he could, any moment now he’d turn and he’d look at you.

He stepped closer towards the alcove, his nose sniffing like a dog as it searched, picking up your fear. You’d rested your hand on the stone, leaving your scent there, giving him a place to anchor onto. He sniffed, his nose getting closer and closer to your scentprint, and, with a growl, his long, demonic tongue emerged and licked the stone, tasting the sweat that had contaminated the brick. It was unsettling to watch, the way he allowed his tongue to feel over every nook and cranny, every bump of the brick. But he’d got a taste for you now.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked towards you, scanning the darkness before a smile appeared on his lips. “Hello, Brother.” He said, ominously, his mouth curving up into a wicked smile. He hovered over you, pinning you into the corner. Despite the petiteness of his stature, in that moment he was very oppressive, seeming to tower over you as you shrank back in fear. His sharp claws gripped at your body, and began to gather your black, monastic habit up at your hip, slowly exposing your body to the elements. He delighted in your fear - almost fed off of it. Enjoying every second you gave yourself to him, willingly or fearfully. It didn’t matter. He’d won. “I’ll claim my prize now.” He told you, those same claws running alongside the seam of your underwear and ripping them in half, allowing them to fall on the floor.

You could feel yourself growing wet at being caught by him, the pools of blackness where his eyes should have been mesmerising you into submission. Hypnotising you into letting him do what he wanted now that he had you. Your knees buckled as you felt him swipe over your bundle of nerves, uncaring where his claws landed. He chuckled when he felt your slick, using his other hand to hold up your robes while he sucked your essence off his hand. “Aren’t you a filthy little boy, hm?” He taunted, relishing the taste of you on his demonic tongue. “Getting wet from being caught. Just give yourself to me,” he moved back to your slit and began stroking, this time adding pressure and making you cry out, “lose the game, little one. I can show you pleasures my human form couldn’t possibly.”

“I w-won’t lose.” You stuttered, your hips moving of their own free will. Your mind didn’t want to lose, but now that Dew had you in his grasp, you couldn’t bring body to tear itself away from him. Giving in would mean he won. Cumming on his fingers like you so, desperately wanted to do would mean he won. But the mewls and whimpers that were escaping your lips were telling the truth, and Dew knew it. He had you, and there was nothing for it.

“Maybe, I’ll stick my cock into this tight, wet, heat, hm? Have you begging for it like the whore I know you are.”

The way his finger ran over your folds was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands gripped onto his skin as your eyes shut tight, hips bucking wildly against his hand and moans tumbling from your lips. You wanted to cum so badly, he’d got you so close already because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You wanted his fingers to dip inside you and fuck you, tapping against that spot only he had been able to reach.

Dew in demonic form was much scarier up close; obsidian eyes from corner to corner, pointed ears and long, goat-like horns that helped his face look like an inverted pentagram. His teeth were sharp, all of them jagged at the end as though he were some kind of shark. He smelled entirely of sulfur, of the Hells themselves, and such a smell shouldn’t be appealing, and yet, on him, it was glorious.

“Dew!” You whimpered, your voice growing louder with each passing second. You didn’t care if anyone heard anymore, at this point you were too far gone.

“That’s it, my precious boy. Give yourself to me. Give everything you have to me.”

No, you couldn’t let him win. In a moment of bravery (or stupidity), your knee collided with his balls and in his distraction, you pushed him aside and ran for it, your habit falling as you escaped him.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you darted away from the alcove, propelled by a surge of adrenaline. The echo of Dew’s pained groan mixed with the sinister laughter that followed you, echoing through the dim corridors of the Ministry. Panic gripped you, urging you to push through the terror and escape the clutches of the demonic entity. As you sprinted through the labyrinthine halls, you could hear Dew’s enraged footsteps behind you. His voice, now a guttural growl, reverberated through the air. “You can’t escape, Brother. I always get what I want.” His words were laced with a perverse satisfaction, and the threat hung heavy in the air.

The staircase loomed before you, a darkly illuminated plummet into the depths of the Ministry. Each stride you took carried the echo of your racing heart. The flickering lighting produced strange shadows on the walls, producing a bewildering dance of light and darkness that reflected the insanity in your head. As you descended, the air became colder, and the harsh atmosphere of the demonic hunt persisted around every turn. The walls appeared to close in, and the darkness got more ominous. Dew’s haunting, predatory laughter rang from above, tempting you to walk faster.

When you reached the lowest level, you found yourself in a dim corridor leading to the kitchen. The scent of stone walls combined with the distant aroma of past dinners, creating a bizarre sensory overload that only added to your worry. The corridor seemed to continue indefinitely, a terrifying road pushing you deeper into the unknown. Your footsteps resonated like sinister drumbeats, echoing along the stone corridors. The flickering candles created uneven shadows on the symbols, making them appear to dance illicitly.

As you approached the kitchen, the dark atmosphere intensified. The massive door stood before you, a portal to potential safety, and you pushed it open with frantic might. The kitchen, which was normally a source of warmth and sustenance, suddenly felt like a haven from the demonic creature that chased you, despite the cold and lifeless energy that exuded from it.

The room was dimly lit, with old wooden tables and abandoned cooking utensils casting eerie silhouettes. The scent of stale air mixed with the remnants of forgotten meals hung in the stillness. You ran towards the door, hoping you could escape through the back. But your stomach dropped at the realisation that the door had been locked, and this time there was no key to use to escape. You scanned the room for a hiding spot, your eyes darting between the dark corners and the silent gloom that clung to the walls.

Dew’s growls resounded along the hallway, as his footsteps became harder to ignore. Your movements were driven by panic as you looked for cover, eventually taking shelter behind a huge table that was flipped over. Your terror was suppressed by the adrenaline pumping through your system, but even still, it lay wide awake as Dew swung the doors open. Breathing heavily, you crouched behind the table, desperately trying to control the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat. The flickering candlelight cast elongated shadows, playing tricks on your eyes and heightening the sense of imminent danger. The kitchen held an oppressive stillness, broken only by the distant echoes of Dew’s footsteps drawing nearer.

As you hid, you noticed a partially opened door leading to a pantry. The darkness within seemed like a tempting refuge, and you made a split-second decision to abandon your current position. Darting across the room, you slipped into the pantry and closed the door silently, enveloping yourself in pitch-black darkness. And this time, you made sure not to touch anything, and crouched behind multiple sacks of potatoes.

The air inside was thick with the musty scent of preserved goods. Boxes and cans lined the shelves, and your fingers fumbled in the dark as you sought a place to hide. Huddled among the supplies, you strained to listen for any signs of Dew’s approach. Time seemed to stretch agonizingly as you waited, the oppressive silence broken only by the faint sounds of Dew searching the kitchen. The demon’s guttural growls and muttered curses added to the suspense, amplifying the horror of the situation.

Suddenly, the pantry door creaked open, and you held your breath. Dew’s silhouette loomed in the doorway, his demonic presence sending shivers down your spine. His predatory gaze scanned the darkness, and you dared not move, praying that the pitch-blackness would conceal your presence. For a moment, it felt as if time had frozen. Dew’s eyes flickered over the pantry, his sharp senses on high alert. The air in the confined space became heavy with tension, and you could almost feel his gaze piercing through the darkness.

Then, with an unsettling chuckle, Dew withdrew, leaving the pantry door ajar. The relief was palpable, but you knew the respite would be short-lived. The demon was relentless in his pursuit, and the game of hide and seek persisted with an intensity that surpassed any nightmare.

You carefully pushed open the pantry door and glanced into the kitchen as Dew’s footsteps receded into the distance. For a while, it looked like the coast was clear, so you took advantage of the chance to continue your escape, making your way through the maze-like passageways of the Ministry while the sound of Dew’s chuckle lingered in your ears. The night was filled with more horrors than you could have ever imagined, and the demonic being was far from defeated. As you left, you picked up some napkins from the open bag and stuffed them in your pocket. If your transferred scent could make it easier for him to find you, then you’d just have to deal with using tools to help.

The journey to the Ministry’s main entrance felt like a descent into lunacy. The dimly lit corridors twisted and swirled, each step evoking the frightening recollection of Dew’s chase. The air was overly silent, punctuated only by the groaning of ancient floors beneath your weight. The flickering candlelight created bizarre eerie shapes on the walls, twisting the familiar surroundings into hideous shapes that appeared to mock your desperate escape. The diabolical patterns engraved into the stone walls seemed to writhe with terrible energy, and their unnerving glow added to the eerie atmosphere. This was the first time you’d ever felt unsafe here, and you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to feel it again.

The path to the front entrance took you through spooky passageways hung with images of long-forgotten characters, their gaze seemingly tracking your every step. The silence was hostile, interrupted only by the distant echoes of Dew’s walking as he continued his unrelenting pursuit somewhere off into the distance, but far too close for comfort. The foreboding atmosphere added to the sense of impending doom, and your breath stuck in your throat with each step.

As you approached the entryway, the blackness appeared to deepen, engulfing the flickering flame and throwing the passage into near darkness. The suffocating air clung to your skin, and a chilly perspiration covered your palms as you grappled for the front door handle. To your disappointment, the door resisted your attempts. It was locked, a barrier between you and the potentially safe outside world. Panic poured through you, and the realisation that you might not be able to escape from this wicked game settled like an anchor in your chest.

A horrible sound echoed across the hallway, a strange combination of Dew’s low growls and the frightening laughter that had grown synonymous with your tormentor. The demon was closing in, and the front entry, which had once been a source of hope, now appeared to be the portal to a hellish doom. Desperation drove your actions as you searched for a key, a method to unlock the door and escape the Ministry’s evil grip. The distant echoes of Dew’s approach became louder, his ravenous presence drawing ever closer. Dark figures appeared to creep over the floor, reaching for you like the tendrils of an unknown nightmare.

With shaky hands, you continued your desperate hunt for an escape route, the darkness of the corridor pushing in on you like a creature unto itself. As no key was available, you took a leaf out of Dew’s book and began trying doors, using the napkin you’d picked up from the kitchen earlier. This lead you farther and farther from the front entrance, but even so, there had to be some way out.

Finally, a door opened and you found your way inside, celebrating silently and shutting the door behind you. It wasn’t until you’d turned to lock it, you’d realised where you were. “Papa.” You said, looking at the photos of the late Papa Emeritus III’s past that sat framed on the drawers and shelves. Layers of dust hung in the air like ethereal strands, catching the meager light that filtered through the closed curtains. The atmosphere in the office was stifling, as if the very walls revealed the Ministry’s secrets. The air was dense with strange silence, interrupted only by the slight creaking of the floorboards beneath your cautious steps. A sense of intrusion washed over you, as if the room contained a memory that should be kept private. The place appeared stuck in time, unaffected by the passage of days or years. Forgotten papers were thrown around the desk, their contents concealed by collecting dust. An exquisite chair stood behind the desk, covered in a faded velvet covering reminiscent of a former period.

Your eyes were drawn to the window, a feeble source of outside illumination in the darkness of the room. The curtains, heavy with neglect, clung to the window frame like cobwebs. As you approached, the outside world came into focus, revealing a distorted view of the moonlit landscape beyond. And, much to your relief, the window was unlocked.

You lifted the sash, and climbed out, body shivering in the cold night and the snow that was falling onto your body. As you turned to close the window, you heard Papa Terzo’s clock strike the hour. You were only two hours into the onslaught, but you were outside, now fearing the horrors that awaited you between the trees.

The landscape beyond the Ministry grounds was eerily still. The moon threw an ethereal tint on the freshly fallen snow, transforming the environment into a strange dreamscape. The trees, their branches heavy with winter frost, stood like quiet guardians in the moonlight. You felt fear as you took your first steps into the unknown. The crunch of snow beneath your boots reverberated through the silence, each step a reminder of the desolation that surrounded you. The woods, once a haven of peace, now harboured the threat of unseen horrors.

Two hours into the night, and the ordeal had only just begun. The moon hung like a spectral lantern in the sky, casting long shadows that played tricks on your senses. The snowfall intensified, creating a hushed symphony that accompanied your every step.

Fear gnawed at the edges of your consciousness as you ventured deeper into the forest, the path ahead obscured by the interplay of moonlight and shadow. Every rustle of the leaves, every distant howl of the wind, sent shivers down your spine. The horrors that awaited between the trees became an unknown; a nightmare that unfolded with each passing moment.

With the Ministry now a distant silhouette against the night sky, you pressed on, driven by the urgency of survival and the haunting awareness that Dew was still looking for you within the walls of the Ministry, and he hadn’t realised you’d escaped.

As you descended deeper into the haunted woods, the covering of snow beneath your boots muffled your footsteps, producing an eerie silence that heightened your sensation of loneliness. The starry path ahead twisted and curved, and the skeletal limbs of the trees appeared to stretch out like spectral fingers, throwing lengthy reflections on the snow-covered ground. The chilly air bit at your skin, and your breath created crystalline clouds in the icy night. The haunting beauty of the surroundings contrasted dramatically with the dread that clung to your every move. You couldn’t shake the impression that unseen eyes were watching, and the forest’s silence served as a canvas for the echoes of your pounding heartbeat.

You trekked through the snow, the smothering stillness broken by the distant howl of the wind, which carried an unsettling melody that appeared to mirror the malevolence hiding in the night. Every crunch of snow beneath your boots felt like a drumbeat, a reminder that you were an invader in a land where invisible evils thrived. The moon, now your only source of light in the ink-black sky, projected a pale glow on the snowflakes, resulting in a bizarre landscape that blurred the line between reality and horror. The woods seemed to shut in on you, their twisted shapes taking on a bizarre look that stoked your growing unease. However, with each step, a weird determination replaced the fear. The fact that Dew was still unaware of your escape provided a ray of optimism. The dense forest, however menacing, provided an opportunity for evasion; a brief respite from the evil entity’s persistent pursuit.

You paused, uncertain which way to go when the route ahead split into two. You felt as though the starry branches above were whispering secrets, telling you to make your decision wisely. You were surrounded by silence, only broken by the gentle patter of falling snow and the distant rustle of unseen creatures. Your desire for survival drove you to make a choice despite the uncertainty surrounding it. However, in the unlikely event that this went wrong, all you knew was that Dew would most likely track you down. The trek continued under the moonlight, each step filled with suspense as the mysteries of the winter night’s embrace revealed the horrors that lay beyond the trees.

You were heading to the cabin on the grounds of the Ministry - a much smaller place where you felt like you could defend yourself easier, despite it being so far out. It didn’t matter, really - you were a human going up against a demon. There wasn’t much you could do until the sunlight when the game had finished.

Suddenly, the crack of a tree branch sent shivers down your spine - this crack was closer than the others, much closer and it came from behind you. You fought the instinctive urge to look round, the need to know for sure what that was becoming almost too great to handle. But you also couldn’t bear the idea that Dew had found you so soon. You froze in your tracks, keeping as still as possible despite the fact that you were so, clearly visible at that moment.

The snow crunched behind you, as if a foot had stepped on it. A solitary step in the quiet of the forest. You held your ground and fought against any movement that would reveal where you were, the frigid air seeping into your lungs. The snow around you appeared to sparkle with a sinister radiance under the moon, creating long shadows that deceived your senses.

Another step, and the tension in the air became palpable.

You could now hear the sound of breathing as the crunches got louder and louder, until, eventually, the breaths began to fall on the back of your neck. In your blind panic, you covered your neck with your hand and spun around, eyes frantically searching the treeline for anything that might have made that noise.

Nothing.

Look up, something told you from inside.

The shadow was of a man crouching on one of the branches, impossibly balanced on such a thin branch. You could see his silhouette perfectly as he maniacally gazed down at you. You couldn’t see his eyes, given that they, too, were black. But you could feel them on you. The realisation only lasted a moment before he jumped down at you from his high branch. You barely had the time to turn before he had you buried in the snow, face down into the cold and his body pinning you down. You were writhing beneath him, your nose barely above the snow and your face damn near frozen solid. You did everything you could to fight against him, but he was too strong - mostly because he was in his demonic form. But, from above you, all you could hear was his cackling and chuckling at your struggling.

“Keep fighting me,” he told you, his voice deeper than usual and darker; much, much darker, “I like it when you fight me.”

“L-let go of me!” You shouted, your teeth chattering from the cold.

“And lose my prey? Where would the fun be in that?”

He got off you momentarily so he could flip your body onto your back. Even if you could breathe now, the shock of the cold made you weaker. Weaker, but not unable to fight back. In that moment, you took the opportunity to kick him again, this time your foot collided with his face hard enough to shock him, but not hard enough to do some damage. You flipped, and tried to stand up, even giving yourself enough lower body strength to run a little. But, you felt Dew’s sharp claws dig into your leg and pull you back across the snow.

“You know, you make me so much harder when you’re scared.”

“‘m not scared!” You lied.

He leaned down on top of you, pinning you into the snow. His long tongue came out and licked your cheek all the way to your ear. In a low voice, he told you, “I can taste it on your skin. The smell of your fear helped me find you.” He moved one of his hands down to your core and squeezed. “You wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”

You did. Fuck, you did. As scared as this whole chase made you, it didn’t matter. Even with fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins you wanted him completely. You wanted to spread your legs for him right there in the snow and let him have his way with you - let him win the game, if only to feel him balls deep inside you, rearranging your guts in a way his human form always held back.

Dew always let the darkness take over when he was in his demonic form, always suppressed any of that stereotypical humanity that made him so sweet and lovable - the reason you fell for him. Unlike the other Ghouls, he rarely shifted, which would hurt his mental state in the long run. For the other Ghouls, regularly shifting allowed them to retain their “humanity” in demonic form - in essence, they could control themselves and wouldn’t become bloodthirsty beasts, sacrificing others for Satan’s pleasure. But Dew was different. He could never control himself in the same way the others could, and the longer he stayed out of his demonic form, the worse it got.

You’d told him that you could handle it, that it was important for him to shift and learn to control himself. You’d told him you could trust him. Was a lot of this spurred on by the fact that you wanted him to fuck you in his demonic form? Absolutely. But once you learned how important it was, you began to worry that you were holding him back, and damaging him in the process. This whole conversation sparked an argument, that was only settled when the game was suggested… by you. And he’d agreed.

And now, here you were, pinned beneath him with his fingers stroking over your soaked core, feeling your own sanity slipping away at the callouses that rubbed you so deliciously.

Do whatever it took to get away from him.

You fought him some more when you’d come to your senses, pulling his arm and removing his hand from you. Another slap, another kick, and you’d gone before he had the chance to recover, running through the snow to get to that cabin.

Your breath came in sharp gasps, the cold air making your terror obvious. The thicket seemed to be attempting to entangle you in its nightmare as you pushed through, its branches seemingly reaching out to grab hold of your habit and snaking around you. The landscape was warped into a confusing maze as the shadows moved in frightening patterns. A chilly wind blew across the woods, bringing the eerie sounds of Dew laughing with it. His presence appeared to warp the entire fabric of reality, like an ominous shadow that was always there. Panic gripped you, urging you to run faster, to escape the clutches of the demonic entity that hungered for you.

You felt as though the forest was closing in on you, the trees acting like dead spectators to your desperate escape. The horrors that hid within were hidden by the abyss-like darkness that spread between the trunks. The fear that pursued you was heightened by each snap of a twig and each rustle of leaves, intensifying the adrenaline-driven pulse in your chest. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and saw Dew’s shape in the moonlight, his eyes shining with an otherworldly evil. With an uncanny speed, the monster closed the distance, unaffected by the barriers that stood in your way.

A scream, half-strangled by fear, clawed at the back of your throat. The thought that there might not be a way out of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit was like a crushing weight on your chest. With every step you made, the forest felt more like a trap closing in on you, drawing you more into the diabolical nightmare.

Through the dense foliage, the dim glimmer from the cabin’s windows flickered like a far-off light of hope. Your legs began to pump more forcefully as a result of the sight, propelling you through the snow-covered forest and towards the prospect of a makeshift haven. The cold air burned in your lungs, but you were driven forward by terror of Dew’s unrelenting pursuit. The cabin appeared to emerge gradually from the darkness, with each stride defining its outline more clearly. The snow-covered walkway leading to its entrance had a ghostly glimmer from the moon. The unsteady ground could have easily caused you to stumble, but the need to get away drove you along, breathing heavily and irregularly now.

The haunting echoes of Dew’s pursuit grew louder behind you. His evil laughter cut through the chilly night, resonating between the trees in a chorus of evil. The fear that seized every step was heightened by the feeling that you were being chased by a demon who’d been summoned from the pits of Hell - to play guitar of all things. The snow seemed to be working against you as you got closer to the cottage. Through the thick forest came the distant thud of Dew’s footfall, getting closer and closer. Severe panic struck, and you threw a quick check over your shoulder, only to see his shadow moving closer.

The cabin’s door stood before you, a portal to potential safety. You sprinted towards the entry, your power amplified by adrenaline, and fumbled with the lock, flinging the door open. The inside warmth provided a momentary relief from the stinging cold, but the anxiety persisted because Dew was quite literally a few feet away.

You heard him thud against the door as you stumbled inside and slammed it shut behind you, locking it just in time. The wooden wall seemed weak in the face of the otherworldly energy chasing you. The cabin seemed to be a flimsy fortification, protecting you from the dangers that waited in the wintry darkness. A strange wind shook the windows, and the air within seemed to move in time with Dew’s evil chuckles, making the place feel stifling and heavy on your breath.

It dawned on you, as you gasped for air in the dark inside, that you were not alone. With his laughter a terrifying preface to the unrelenting pursuit that had turned into an unavoidable nightmare deep within the snow-covered woodland, Dew’s presence loomed just outside.

From the other side of the cabin door, Dew’s voice slithered through the wood like a serpent, a sinister melody that sent shivers down your spine. “Come out, little one,” he hissed, the words dripping with a malevolent blend of amusement and hunger. “So, you thought this feeble cabin could save you from me?” Dew’s voice dripped with amusement, the words weaving through the air like a dark incantation. “Did you really believe you could outsmart me, little one?”

The mocking tone cut through the silence within the cabin, reminding you that this all seemed useless. The demonic entity reveled in the revelation that you had unwittingly confined yourself within the very trap you thought would offer protection. “You’ve locked yourself in, and now there’s nowhere left to run,” he continued, the malevolence in his voice intensifying. “Just wait until I get my hands on you.

“Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you?” You heard a slam on the roof, and jumped at the noise. “Do you know all the ways I’m going to make you scream?”

You glanced at the clock, its hands ticking away the agonizing moments. Dawn was fast approaching and the realization hit you—three more hours of enduring the demonic onslaught. The cabin, once a potential sanctuary, now felt like a prison where time stretched into an eternity, each passing second carrying the weight of impending horror.

Dew’s voice, laced with a perverse excitement, slithered through the confined space of the cabin, each word a grotesque brushstroke painting a vivid picture of the torment he envisioned.

“I want to hear you scream,” he rasped, the words carrying a disturbing hunger. You saw him run past one of the windows from the corner of your eye. “To feel your fear, your desperation. I want to revel in the music of your screaming.”

A sinister chuckle punctuated his words, echoing the sadistic pleasure he derived from the impending cruelty. “Do you know the exquisite pain of anticipation? The way your heart pounds, the cold sweat that coats your skin? I relish every moment leading up to the finale of your suffering.”

Dew hovered outside the cabin like an evil spirit from hell, his raptor’s eye fixed on the building that was now both your haven and your prison. The demonic figure turned around the cottage, a silent hunter enjoying the macabre game, and the snow-covered landscape witnessed his threatening silhouette.

With his claws, he scraped the walls of the cabin, creating a frightening rhythm that echoed through the silent night. Through the darkness, you could see the predatory delight in his eyes, which told volumes about the sadistic pleasure he took in torturing you. And you realised under that gaze, that your thighs were clenching together so tightly, they were beginning to ache.

“I can almost taste your fear,” he hissed, the words carrying on the frigid breeze. “Do you feel the inevitability of your demise, little one? There’s no escape. Nowhere to hide from the darkness that I bring.”

Dew kept stalking around the cabin, frightening and teasing. With an inhuman power, he pounded on the glass, the reverberation echoing through the wood like a sinister drumming. His ominous laughter seemed to be carried by the howling wind, adding a haunting element to the terrifying scene.

A deep silence fell, in stark contrast to the prior chorus of torment. The eerie quiet seemed to last indefinitely, producing an unpleasant tension that lingered in the air like a physical weight. Dew’s predatory dance around the cabin came to an abrupt end. The night held its breath, as if even the elements were hesitant to disturb the strange silence that had descended upon the snow-covered landscape.

The absence of his taunting and the eerie echoes of his presence created an unsettling stillness. It seemed as if the night’s spirit had been suppressed, replaced with an apprehensive stillness.

The sudden end of Dew’s movements left you in suspense, wondering why he’d stopped. The cabin felt like a refuge enveloped in stifling silence; the only sound left was the distant howl of the wind, whispering whispers through the skeletal trees.

You took tentative steps towards the window, compelled by an instinctive urge to check Dew’s presence or absence in the eerie silence that covered the cabin. The floor creaked under your weight, each sound reverberating in the silence like a muffled drumbeat.

As you looked through the frost-kissed glass, all you could see was the bleak endlessness of the snow-covered forest. However, there was no trace of Dew.

Uncertainty gnawed at you, and the silent unease inside the cabin reflected the peaceful stillness of the frigid night. Was this a respite, a brief pause, or the calm before another storm of horror? The questions continued, and your heart couldn’t calm down.

An unexpected, explosive crash broke the fragile peace within the cabin. The door, ripped from its hinges, flew through the air, leaving Dew standing in the gaping doorway. His intimidating presence radiated malevolence, a dark silhouette framed by the smashed entrance.

The evil entity’s eyes sparkled with an unfathomable intensity as he studied the limited area. The morbid game of hide and seek had reached an unsettling end. Dew’s lips curved into a nasty smile, a grotesque victory imprinted on his face.

“Will you run from me now, Brother? Or will you get on your knees for me like the good whore I know you to be?”

You tried to make a break for the door, knowing that you wouldn’t make it, but even so, the intention was there. Dew, of course, gripped hold of your body and wrestled you to the ground. He admired your helpless body lounging there on the hard, wood floor, reveling in the fear he could smell and how wide-eyed you were. He stood above you, mighty and powerful.

His hand reached his trousers and undid the zipper and button, pulling them halfway down his thighs. His underwear too, allowing his erection to spring free.

Demonic Dew was huge. So big you weren’t entirely sure you could take him. His cock looked vaguely similar to a human’s except for the size and the blunt ribbage down both sides of the shaft. The colour too, a dark grey at his pubic mound, tapering off into a light grey that spread in a gradient of a blush pink at the tip. A thick, grey knot sat at the base just above the pubic mound that had a pit forming in your stomach. He was going to make you take that - you just knew it.

“Knees.” He commanded. Both your fear and arousal worked in tandem to propel you to your knees, sitting patiently for him like a dog waiting for his master. “Suck it all down that throat of yours.”

You placed your hands on your thighs and leaned forward. Your tongue appeared from behind your cracked lips and made contact with the head of his cock, purely to help guide it into your mouth. Once it had lined up, you moved your head forward and sucked the head in. Dew hissed at the feeling of your warm mouth encapsulating him, but it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

His hand tangled in your hair and he pushed you down as far as you could go, making your lips touch the base of his cock. He was forceful enough that you couldn’t fight back easily, but slow enough not to hurt you. Dew could feel everything you gave him, the wetness of your mouth, the way you swallowed around his head.

His grip in your hair got tighter and he started maneuvering your head for you, watching you as you bobbed up and down his length. His hips couldn’t keep still and so eventually he just held your head in place and used your throat like his own personal toy. All the while, your eyes were watering and your face was getting redder and redder with exertion. He let you pull off for a second, and watched as you gasped desperately for air. Tears were running down your cheeks now, and your lips were beginning to swell so tantalisingly, he could feel himself losing what little control he had over himself. He couldn’t take it anymore; he wanted to see you struggle again and so he forced his cock back into your mouth.

He fucked your throat as roughly as he wanted because he knew you could take it - but he honestly didn’t care if you couldn’t. You were his prize, his to treat however he wanted to. And you’d accept everything with grace, and poise, and thank him for obliterating your throat afterwards.

He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your throat, watching you take it all and struggle with it. The way your lips stretched around his tip was obscene enough, but with each rib that was fed to you and removed with a pop, he could barely contain himself. His toes curled in his boots, and a smile formed on his face. He chuckled as he fucked your throat, loving how you gave yourself so willingly to him in the end.

He looked down at the mess of you, at the sweat forming on your brow and your robes shaking from how hard he was ramming into you. It was then he saw your hand moving, dipping beneath the hem of your monastic habit and stroking yourself through it. Slow circles at first but once you saw he caught you, your fingers began to move over your wetness faster.

“Shit, look at yourself.” He began, his voice hoarse from his pleasure. “Working yourself while I fuck your tight little fucking throat.” He was speaking through gritted teeth at that point. “Do you like this? Do you like being treated like a common fucking whore? Hm?” He slapped your cheek and let go of you, pulling you off of him with a pop. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” Your voice was husky and weak from the amount of times he’d hit the back of your throat.

Dew began to grumble and growl, frustration evident in his noises. “Not tight enough.” He looked down at your other hand and realised it wasn’t doing anything. He wanted it elsewhere. “Take that fucking hand and choke yourself. Squeeze that fucking throat.” He instructed you as he fed his cock back into your mouth.

And you did. Using your thumb and three of your fingers, you placed your hand on your throat and squeezed from the sides adding more pressure and a tighter hole for him. He groaned and laughed in response, loving the extra tightness and shoving himself so far down your throat, you could feel his pubic mound bashing against your nose with each thrust. You knew Dew’s human form well enough to know when he was about to cum, and apparently his demonic form was just as similar. His thrusts were becoming more erratic and more violent, a clear sign that this side of him was about to cum down your throat without giving you a second thought. So, you began to touch yourself harder, rubbing at your bud faster and faster until you burst.

Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you, the world stilling around you with the exception of your fingers and Dew’s hips. You continued to touch yourself through the orgasm, trying your hardest not to bite down with Dew being so far down your throat, and the restraint of that action alone was enough to make your jaw ache even more. When you’d finished, you concentrated back on Dew’s cock, but it wasn’t long before he came too, pushing your head further into his body and giving a few, final, short, sharp thrusts before his cum was spilling down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow it.

“Yeah, that’s it. Swallow it… down for me… Such a slutty boy, t-taking every fucking drop. Shit!”

He pulled out of you with a groan and you gasped desperately for the air he’d restricted from you, swallowing the leftovers and wiping your chin clean of any droplets of cum that had spilled out.

Once you’d regained control of your lungs, and you didn’t feel like you were drowning anymore, you chanced a look up at Dew. He still stood, towering above you with you on your knees, black eyes focused on your exhausted body and white fangs appearing over his dark red lips in a menacing smile. Your eyes roamed down his body to his cock, which was still as hard as ever - as if you’d never gone through all that. He was ready to take you again.

With little fight left in you, you let his hand push you back onto the floor, making you lie flat against the wood. He got on his knees and lifted your habit, exposing your dripping heat to him. He got on his knees in between your legs, and continued to smirk at you - he’d won and you both knew it.

He started to position himself above you, aligning with your sopping heat and using his cock to stroke your folds. Your fingers bit into the floor as oversensitivity set in, and your heart raced with expectation. He drew your hips closer to him, partially resting on his thighs, and laughed a little at the sound your body made as it was dragged against the floor. You didn’t feel particularly ready for his length inside you after feeling it down your throat, but you also didn’t want to stop him, anticipating the delicious pain that would come from his monstrous cock penetrating your walls and fucking you so deeply you could pass out. Dew could feel your core clenching around nothing, practically screaming for him to fill it. “You believed, little one, that you could outrun me?” He taunted as he rutted against you. “As naive and stupid as ever, it’s your own fault for running. If you had only submitted to me, I would have been nice to you. This will just hurt for a little while, so don’t worry.”

He loved the way your eyes lit up with a host of feelings before allowing your face to contort with the pleasure of him sliding his massive cock within you, inch by monstrous inch. You shook every time one of the ribs drove into you, pushing you even further and anchoring you completely to him. There was lust in your eyes, of course, savouring how each pop had you gasping for breath and tried to commit it to memory. But the pain was just as delicious as you expected, causing you to cry out so loudly, if anyone outside heard you, they’d think something awful was happening to you. Instead, you were being stuffed so full of an impossibly large demon cock, your body was almost shutting itself down to cope. You could already feel your mind clearing out of anything other than the current sensations.

Dew continued to make fun of you with each inch your horny centre swallowed. “Did that hurt? Good. I told you it would. Keep screaming for me like that, and I’ll pop my knot into you.”

Dew’s pace was just as rough as it was the first time, with him practically riding your body for his own pleasure. Every time he pulled out, you could feel the ribs of his cock popping out of you then forcing their way back in with each thrust, making you tighten around him so much, your body was trying to keep him where he was. Your back arched off the floor, so only your shoulders and arms were holding you upright, aside from Dew’s hands on your hips as he pounded into you, over and over again; but this allowed for your habit to ride up slightly and let him catch sight of your stomach, and how his cock was visible even underneath all the muscle, fat and flesh. How he was so big, he left an indent where he fucked you. No wonder you couldn’t focus on anything except for him. You allowed loud moans to fall from your lips, as the angle Dew fucked you at had his cock and it’s ridges hitting that spot each time, carving out a space for himself within your hole.

“I knew you fucking wanted this,” he told you, no longer using his hips to fuck you but moving your body quickly with his strong arms. “Wasted so much time. C-could’ve fucked you back there.”

Drool was pooling in the corner of your mouth, spilling outwards and down your cheek with each impeccable thrust. The further down his cock he worked you, the more you could feel his knot catching at your entrance. Silently, you wondered how that was going to fit inside you too. But your body was begging for it, pleading for that knot to force its way inside you.

Besides your screaming, your core was the loudest thing in the room. So wet, his cock splashed when it fucked into you as roughly as it did. You could feel it running down your ass cheeks and landing on the thighs of his jeans. And you didn’t need to look to know that you’d left a ring of white around the top of his knot, your pussy creaming as it took his cock over and over and over, loving each second.

You bit your lip and clutched onto his strong arms, those arms and hands holding onto your hips for support as he brutally ploughed into you, getting deeper and deeper till his tip reached your cervix and his shaft rubbed against that sweet place.

“You want it? You want this fucking knot inside you?” When you didn’t answer, he slapped your face again. “Fucking answer me!”

“Yes!”

“Beg for it, slut.”

You whimpered, you whined and you screamed for him, but a coherent sentence wasn’t something that you could put together verbally. In your mind, you had begged for it already, begged for his cum to fill you up. But your mouth wasn’t responding. Your body wasn’t responding. Nothing you did worked, except for your fingers running over yourself in sheer desperation for a second orgasm.

Dew just laughed at you, mocking you for your neediness, but he said nothing as he continued to bounce you on his cock, fingertips digging into your body as he maneuvered you exactly how he wanted, and eventually, his knot slipped inside.

You didn’t warn him when you came - you couldn’t. Your brain was too clouded to register anything and announce any more than a squeak before your body convulsed and spasmed around his cock, your eyes blacking out and your mouth open in a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think, all you could do was feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time.

This, being his final straw, tipped him over the edge a second time, his fangs digging into your stomach as he bent over, expelling the remainder of his energy through the chomp. It didn’t hurt - but it wasn’t as if you could feel it anyway.

*

You slowly opened your eyes to the soft glow of dawn seeping through the windows of the cabin. The air inside was cool, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of pine. As you lay on your back, you felt the worn wooden floor beneath you, and your body ached. As your eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains, you felt the warmth of the sun’s first rays gently caressing your tired limbs. The golden hues painted the room, casting a tranquil glow that danced across the wooden walls.

Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Dew, curled up beside you in his human form, still lost in the world of dreams. But his senses were on high alert still and even the smallest movement of your body caused him to jolt awake. You winced as you tried to sit up, the soreness in your muscles protesting the movement. Dew stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open as he sensed your shift.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from sleep and the recent body change. His eyes, now back to the normal, beautiful green colour they usually were, locked onto yours with concern. “How are you feeling?”

A faint smile played on your lips as you reached out to gently stroke his tousled hair. “I’ve had worse days,” you replied, though the pain in your body betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Dew sighed, his expression reflecting the guilt he felt. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess,” he whispered, his eyes casting down. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

You reassured him with a soft smile, “Dew, it’s not your fault. I told you I could handle it.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed.”

“Dew…”

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I pushed you when you were uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Not that I minded…” you cleared your throat awkwardly, “earlier.”

Dewdrop raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he exhaled, “I hope you remember it well because it won’t happen again.”

You sighed, disappointed, but nodded in understanding. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the conflict within him. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you in pain because of me.”

You shifted closer to him, embracing him gently. “We’re in this together, Dew. I chose to be by your side, no matter what comes our way. Pain is just a small part of the journey.”

He nodded, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow in his gaze. “I appreciate that, but I still wish I could protect you better.”

You chuckled softly, “You’re doing your best, and that’s all I can ask for. We’ll face whatever comes next, together. D-do you remember what happened?”

He sat up and slapped you playfully. “I remember you didn’t do as I fucking asked! What happened to, ‘get away from me at all costs and don’t let me fuck you?’”

“I saw your dick and couldn’t help myself.”

He hit you again.

“Alright, okay! I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I will miss it, though. Are you sure you can’t just do some exercises and shift like the other Ghouls?”

Dew couldn’t help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “They’ve not spent as long in Hell as I have. It’s not just about exercises; it’s a mental and physical process that takes time to master. A lot of therapy will be needed that I’d have to return to Hell to get.”

You nodded, understanding the complexities involved. “I guess we’ll have to figure out a new plan then. Maybe find some other way to deal with those situations.”

Dew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I can’t always control it, and I don’t want to risk it.”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll find a way, Dew. Together. We always do.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m lucky to have you by my side. Even if I can’t protect you the way I want to, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you both sat there in the warm glow of the morning sun, you knew that challenges lay ahead, but the bond between you and Dew was strong. Together, you were determined to face whatever came your way, finding solutions and supporting each other through the ups and downs of your journey.

Next Part ⛧ Realm of Souls Masterlist

Commissions are open! ⛧ Memberships ⛧ Tip Jar

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 24. threesome

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “sharing is caring”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ sodo and rain learn to share their special gift

pairing: sodo ghoul x afab!reader x rain ghoul

a/n: to make up for the missed day i will try to make this fic one of my better ones 🙏 we’re almost done with the holiday hoes event !!!

cw: nsfw content. threesome. switch!sodo. dom!rain. sub!reader. spanking. oral sex (m receiving). piv sex. anal sex. degradation. double penetration.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“look at you two… just a couple of filthy whores.. oh isn’t this just exciting?” —❤︎

“s-shut the fuck up…” —❤︎

┅✦┅

sodo swore he was seeing things for a moment.

the sight before him looked too good to be true.

but alas, a familiar voice ringed out, snapping the fire ghoul out of his trance and back into reality.

“don’t just stand there.” rain spoke with a snippy tone, sounding irritated from sodo’s presence.

“either you join in on the fun, or you get the fuck out.”

lord knows what force of satan possessed sodo to make him stay, but he did, silently and slowly shutting the door behind him. his eyes never tore away from the scene before him.

what a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. rain has you bent over in a doggy style position, webbed fingers tightly clamped onto your hips while his cock plowed into the rim of your ass, each thrust making you squeal in pure ecstasy. the fire ghoul’s eyes drifted down to the lower half of your body, and he could see how dripping wet you were, pussy leaking and begging for attention while the water ghoul behind you abused your ass with his dick.

rain noticed how his pack mate was staring at you, and he grinned wickedly, one of his hands flying down to smack your ass lewdly.

“gorgeous, aren’t they?” rain spoke with a velvety, slick tone, thrusts slowing down slightly so he can turn part of his attention to sodo.

the fire ghoul just nodded, and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “so this is what you’ve been doing for the holiday season?”

“yes, why? got a problem with it?” rain mused.

sodo scoffed, a sarcastic smirk evident on his face. “maybe. you couldn’t bother to share?”

“well i’m sharing now, aren’t i?” rain quipped back, thrusting in a particular angle that had you moaning into the sheets. “and i can see your dick straining in your pants. so come on, get over here and join in on the action.”

the fire ghoul just chuckled and started walking towards you both. “gladly.”

the fact that rain and sodo were just casually having a conversation like you weren’t being absolutely pounded into, it just got you going even more. your eyes were hazed and blurred with instinctive tears, slowly watching sodo make his way over to you while his calloused fingers undid the fly on his pants.

sodo got up on the bed and positioned himself in front of you, being sure that the front of his lower body was directly at your face. before you knew it, he had completely pulled down his pants and boxers, his hardened cock springing free from the restraints of his undergarments. the spitfire looked down at your lustful face, and smirked.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, one of his hands moving to grab onto the shaft of his dick, aligning it in front of your lips.

your eyes were dotted with stars while staring down at the chub of sodo’s cock. it was already leaking with precum and throbbing with need. damn, he got so turned on just from watching you and rain.

rain seemed to have noticed that you were very much star struck by the sight of sodo’s gorgeous dick. he growled, and thrusted into you hard, making you whine loudly.

sodo saw this and took this as an opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth while your lips parted, making you whimper in surprise from his shaft invading your mouth. though, your lips tightened around it, and sodo groaned with delight.

“fuck. that’s it.” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair to control your movements. “suck on it.”

the sensation of being fucked from behind by rain and sucking off sodo, it was so goddamn hot. to just be used and pleasured by these two incredibly sexy ghouls, it was a fantasy like no other. the eagerness was evident in the way you were sucking sodo’s cock, tongue swirling around the head and getting a good taste of that salty precum. the fire ghoul was definitely enjoying it too, given by how he was grabbing your hair and forcing you to go deeper while his pleasured sounds increased in volume.

while all this was happening, a certain water ghoul was observing you and the fire ghoul closely. rain chuckled lustfully as he watched sodo’s expression morph from arrogant promiscuity, to desperate and needy. sodo’s tongue hung out of his mouth as you sucked him off, and rain was reveling at the sight of you two.

“look at you two… just a couple of filthy whores.. oh isn’t this just exciting?” he chided with a lewd edge, grabbing one of your legs and hooking it around his waist from behind.

sodo let out a high pitched growl and moaned in response, gritting his sharp teeth together. “s-shut the fuck up…”

“oh you know it’s true.” the bassist responded, slapping your ass, a loud smack echoing through the walls and your moans quickly following after.

“you two are like dogs in heat. it’s pathetic, really.”

“h-hahhh… s-screw you rain… ahh..!”

rain was turning you and sodo into his bitches, using your bodies for his own personal pleasure. he liked watching the fucked out expressions on your face, and the blissed twinkle that shone in sodo’s eyes every time your tongue dragged across the most sensitive part on his dick.

eventually, sodo had enough and wanted to feel something better. removing his cock from your mouth with a popping sound, sodo had changed positions a bit.

grabbing your body and lifting your hips up, sodo positioned himself underneath you and aligned his cock along your glittering wet pussy. rain seemed to take notice of this, and smirked. while still inside of you, rain grabbed your thighs and spread them further apart, before forcing your cunt down on sodo’s cock, loud gasps rupturing from your guys’ throats.

your mind was being numbed from the feeling of two things penetrating both holes all at once. sodo was underneath you and sat up slightly, cows grasping at your thighs while he bucked his hips up into you. pleasured grunts fell from his lips as he did this.

“f-fuck you feel so good…” the fire ghoul praised, moving you deeper onto his length. you could only babble nonsensical words while he spoke to you.

rain looked down at the two of you and scowled lustfully. his hand gripped your hair and forced it up while he went to town inside of you.

“look at that, sodo.” rain chided, a promiscuous twinge evident in his voice. “see that face on them? you think that’s you making them feel this good?”

sodo snarled and rammed his hips up further into your tight cunt.

“what ever happening to sharing, rain?” he gritted, tail coiling around your thigh possessively.

“i am sharing.” rain retorted. “was just statin’ the facts.”

“well i think that your ‘facts’ are complete and utter bullshit.”

the two ghouls snarled at each other, their cocks hitting deeper inside of you to try and prove that one was better than the other. you on the other hand, were forced to take it all.

after a bit of back and forth bickering, rain just smirked.

“you know what? how about we just keep fucking them, see who makes them cum the hardest, eh?” rain challenged, and sodo’s eyes fluttered in pleasure and intrigue, anger fading away for a moment.

“i know you like a good challenger after all, firefly. so how about it? wanna keep doin’ this like rabbits and see who gets them off the hardest?”

sodo took a moment to speak back, moaning in delight as he felt your pussy clamp around his cock more upon listening to rain’s words. he had a feeling you were getting excited just from hearing rain’s suggestions. looking directly at you, you gave sodo a haste nod, moaning from the way rain was pounding into you.

that was all the confirmation sodo needed.

“alright then.” sodo confirmed, returning rain’s wicked smirk. “challenge accepted, water boy.”

rain chuckled darkly, and slapped your ass again.

“then let’s do this.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

[p1nkcanoe]

voulez-vous

[ dewdrop x rain smut ]

summary: dew is in rut and also a little out of his mind. warnings: dubcon, unglamoured ghouls, oral sex, anal sex, blood and fighting, gill play, and so many more (please read full tag list before reading) words: 7089

Click here to read on Ao3

[aestheticpearl]

— ‘girl, you really got a hold on me.’

✧·˚ you ask for some soft sex with the ghouls and they try their best to give you that, some are better than others at following the rules

characters. dewdrop, rain, swiss, mountain, phantom

themes. smut

[gender neutral reader]

➳ dewdrop

definitely confused at first

needs you to guide him through it

(not that that’s anything new)

actually really enjoys going slow

he gets to see your reactions more clearly

relishes in how warm you feel around him

you’re almost always on top so you control the pace you go at

he likes to hold your hips just to make you move a bit faster or hit a better angle

he’ll rub circles on your hips with his thumbs while holding you

➳ rain

the king of soft sex

he prefers it over rough and fast

holds your hand no matter the position

always makes sure you’re comfortable in said position and that it feels good

your pleasure >>> his

love to lean in and kiss you when you’re both close

rests his head on your shoulder and gives your neck gentle kisses

says ‘i love you’ when he cums

rubs your sides as you come down from your high

➳ swiss

says he’s not good at ‘soft’ sex but is literally the gentlest

he knows how to praise

will always notice if you get too tense during a session

‘easy baby, easy you’re going to hurt yourself.’

unfortunately he can’t stop his teasing nature from leaking through

will stop moving until you relax

likes to hold you very close while thrusting into you

loves to reassure how good you’re doing

grunts and groans from how hard it is to hold back because how good it feels

➳ mountain

the prince of soft sex

only because he forgets his size sometimes and will accidentally slip up

like to keep it basic and put you in missionary

will hold your hand the whole time

he’ll lose himself in you and sometimes do faster by accident

just snap him out of it and he’ll instantly lock his focus on you again

loves kissing every part of you

loves kissing you honestly

will french kiss you for half the time he’s inside you if you let him

➳ phantom

he’s awful at remembering that this is supposed to be a soft sex session

you’ll have to guide his hips if you still want to bottom

if you manage to wrangle him and get on top he’ll whine the whole time with how slow you’re going

give him other forms of stimulation and he’ll get all sensitive and ask you to slow down

loves to top but when it comes to soft sex he loves when you take control

whiny mess when you stop because you say your legs hurt from the position

will try again to top and actually goes slow

ends up overstimulating himself

you pretty people miss me? ;)

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[theunholybastard]

Hey!! I have a new request. A fic where the ghouls dissappear to the den for a few days to deal with their cycles. Inhuman ghouls again. Copia has no idea where they all went and is worried about practice. Esencially, he walks in on them fucking each other...... 75% porn 25% plot. Thank you!!

Hey, Lovely! 👋 My apologies for the little wait, I've been busy cooking up some absolutely devious stuff for Kinktober 😈🙏 I hope this was worth the wait!

In Sync (Era 5 Ghouls x Papa Emeritus IV Smut)

Tags: Heat/Rut, Orgy, Overstimulation, Double Penetration, Face-Sitting, Biting/Scratching, Blood Kink, Voyeurism, Copia's a Pervert, Squirting, Cum-Eating, Knotting, Mention of Breeding

He didn't know how something like this could happen. I mean, obviously he knew it was possible, but seriously, what are the chances?

Whenever the Ghouls went through their heat cycles, it was usually just one or two experiencing it at a time. They would just be able to retreat to their den for the duration, and come out to rejoin society once it's over with. It's never caused any problems, even during tours Copia was able to find a different Ghoul to dawn a mask and act as a replacement for a few shows. But all of the Ghouls going into heat at the same time? He never could've predicted something like this.

The show was tonight. The Ghouls were expected at practice, and they were not there. Where the hell were they? Heat or not, Copia needed them. It's not like he could find fucking eight replacement Ghouls in such short notice. They can suck it up and control themselves for one night. The show must go on, right?

Copia knocks on the door to the Ghoul den. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still, no answer. They gotta be in here, right? He opens the door. That was a big mistake.

I suppose when you have a bunch of horny Ghouls in one room, it's bound to happen. It's not like they can control themselves in this state. All of Copias prized Ghouls; naked, bodies squished together to the point where you couldn't tell which body parts were which. The Ghouls are too caught up in their sexual deviancy to notice Copia, who stood in the doorway, frozen.

Swiss and Mountain were sharing Aurora, Mountain stuffed in her cunt while Swiss takes her ass. Sodo had Rain bent over, buried balls-deep inside of him, fucking into him rapidly. Meanwhile Phantom, Cirrus and Cumulus were together, Cirrus bouncing on Phantoms cock and Cumulus sat on his face. A cacophony of moans echoed throughout the room, along with the obscene sound of wet skin slapping.

Copia didn't know what to do. Should he say something, make his presence known? As if that would stop them. He almost wants to just stand there and watch, see how long it would take for one of them to notice, and how they would react once they did. Would they shoo him out? Would they keep going without a care? Would they invite him to join? Copia is ashamed to admit, a jolt of arousal shot through him at the thought.

Aurora was the loudest of them all, how could she not be when such a little thing like her was taking such big cocks? Her mouth hung open, drooling from how good they were fucking her, reaching deep within her to hit the spot each time. Mountain, who was typically gentle during his sexual endeavors, harshly yanks Aurora by her hair, pulling her in for a kiss. Sloppy, saliva dripping from the corners of both of their mouths, fangs and horns clashing violently together.

Sodo ferally bucks into Rain, snarling and clawing at the poor Ghoul underneath him. He bites the nape of Rains neck, piercing the skin and lapping up the blood leaking from the wound like a starved vampire. Rains hand is tucked underneath his waist, furiously jerking himself off. A puddle of cum is already formed on the floor below him, working towards what looks to be his third or fourth orgasm, sobbing and shaking unbridledly from the painful, stinging pleasure.

Phantoms whimpers are muffled from the curvaceous Ghoulette grinding on his face, incapable of doing anything other than desperately sucking and licking at her folds, like he needed her cum down his throat to live. Cirrus rode him feverishly, mewling as a particular slam of her hips causes the head of his dick to hit her g-spot directly. Cumulus has a tight hold on his wrists, spitting words of filth down at him as he suffocates on her cunt, rendering him completely and utterly at the mercy of the two.

Copia can't help but rub himself through his pants as he takes in the sight of it all. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn't watch this, let alone pleasure himself to this, and he definitely knows this is just going to delay practice even further. I mean, it's not like he could stop them even if he tried, he might as well let them fuck it out, right? They should get it out of their systems now so they can be able to perform later; and surely it's for the best that he get it out of his system with them.

It isn't long before Copia grows more confident with his movements, gingerly extracting his cock from his pants and stroking it freely. He bites his lip to hold back his moans, trying to remain undetected, though a small part of him is itching to get caught. He watches as they pump load after load into each other, seed pouring from their holes.

Aurora screamed hoarsely as Swiss and Mountain came nearly in sync, flooding her womb and ass and stretching her with their knots. It's a wonder she didn't faint, Copia thought to himself. Soon after, its Sodo letting out a demonic roar as he finishes inside Rain, Rains cock weeping along with him. Lastly, Phantom reaches his orgasm with a full-body shudder. Cirrus takes it all with a smile, both her and Phantoms juices mixing together and dripping down his balls. The vibration of Phantoms groans against her clit sends Cumulus over the edge, her orgasm filling his mouth, drinking it all down hungrily.

The sight, the sound, the smell; it's all too much for Copia. All of them, skin glistening from being covered in sweat, spit, blood and cum. Successfully bred and knotted. Fuck. His orgasm hit him like a bus, sudden and unanticipated, spilling his seed with an embarrassingly loud gasp. Finally, the Ghouls take notice, all turning their heads towards the noise. Copias face grows red, eyes wide, petrified.

Just when he expected to be yelled at for disturbing their intimate moment, a deep chuckle comes from Swiss. A couple other Ghouls join in, not laughing at Copia, but rather the absurdity of the situation. It's Cumulus who speaks first, curling her finger towards him in a 'come hither' motion. "Wanna join, Papa?"

They didn't attend practice that day.

-

[a-fools-circus]

A Gift for Papa

Papa IV/Reader

Desc: During a time when you're unable to see each other, you decide to make a tape for Papa to watch when he misses you. Word Count: 2686 Tags/Warnings: reader has female anatomy, masturbation, dildo/sex toy, sex tape, established relationship, orgasm delay (self-inflicted), Google Translate Italian Minors DNI

you can also read on ao3 here!

Although he had entered his room with plans to relax for the evening, Copia freezes in his tracks as he spots his camera lying on top of his bed. Next to it lies a VHS tape, and while the actual tape is unmarked, a sticky note is stuck to the front. He immediately recognizes the handwriting on it as your own. Copia slides the piece of paper between his gloved fingers, reading the short note:

A little gift to make up for my absence. I miss you! ♡ 

Copia smiles at the note; so cute and undoubtedly you . His mind runs rampant as he wonders what could possibly be on the tape. Trying to picture what you —ever the creative soul—could have come up with seems nearly impossible. 

A mixture of impatience and curiosity drives him to slide the tape into the VCR. Copia settles on the edge of his bed as the television turns on. His fingers tap against his knee in anticipation, his nerves heightened with intrigue. 

The tape begins to play, and he's immediately greeted with the sight of you in your room. Your arms are raised, your face slightly off-screen as you fumble with the camera. Copia can't help but smile. He knows he'd do the same—technology is complicated, right?

He recognizes the plush expanse of your bed as you back up until you're in frame. You sigh as you sit on the mattress, taking a moment to ensure the camera before you is steady. You smile and wave at the camera. Copia can practically feel his heart swell.

'Hi Papa!'  Your excited greeting emanates from the television. Copia leans forward to turn up the volume, not wanting to miss a single syllable that comes from your lips. 

Your hands fold in your lap, portraying an image of innocence that he knows is just a façade. ' Uhm…I hope this isn't…weird or anything. And I hope you're not mad at me for stealing your camera.'

'I know you've been busy preparing for the tour and all of that. Which, first of all, I hope is going well.'  You tilt your head as you speak. Copia notices how your hands fidget in your lap, rubbing together nervously (or maybe in anticipation?). 'But I figured I'd do a little something for you while you're…preoccupied. Y'know, while we're unable to really see each other.'

Another sigh leaves your lips. ‘So…I hope you end up liking it.’ Copia can feel his heartbeat quicken as he anticipates the unfurling of your plan. Your hands move to your back and, while the action is obscured, the faint sound of a zipper makes your movements known. His eyes are glued to the collar of your habit as it begins to loosen, slipping down to reveal your collarbone. 

Copia blinks in surprise—bordering on disbelief—as you stand to slip your habit off of your body. You aren’t concerned with speed, taking your time to carefully slip your arms from the sleeves and pull the dress down over your curves. Every inch of skin you reveal sends a wave of heat through his body that pools between his legs. His breath catches in his throat as the fabric falls away. 

Almost cursing at the sight, Copia leans back as you crawl back onto your bed with swaying hips. You’re wearing that lingerie that you know he loves because, fuck, it accentuates your curves so well. He watches your hands move over your body as you caress yourself through the thin fabric.

His cock is already practically straining against his pants. He can barely contain himself at the sight of your body, especially when it’s displayed so perfectly for him. And when you grope your chest, Copia’s fingers tingle with the familiar feeling of your supple skin under his touch.

Unable to resist any longer, Copia’s hand finds its way to the front of his pants, pressing gently against his pulsing arousal. A grunt rumbles in his throat at the friction. His eyes are practically glued to your hands as they run over the tantalizing expanse of your skin. 

And when your hand daringly slides down the front of your body, a shiver of anticipation courses down Copia’s spine. Caressing the swell of your hip, your hand trails over your thigh, moving so smooth and careful that it’s almost mesmerizing. His heart pounds as your touch inches closer and closer to the irresistible bliss between your legs. 

The sigh that spills from your lips as your fingers glide over your clothed heat makes his ears perk up. Copia squeezes his cock through his pants, palming himself in rhythm with your movements. He watches your hips roll and grind against the friction of your hand. You move in a captivating rhythm, so perfectly smooth; it reminds him of all the times you’ve been on top of him, bouncing and grinding on his cock.

You shuffle on your bed, moving to lie down. Copia mirrors your movements as he reclines on his own bed. You grab your thighs firmly to keep your legs spread wide open in front of the camera. It’s nearly impossible to miss the damp patch on your panties that betrays your need. A groan falls from his lips as you prop yourself up on your elbows to stare directly at the camera. 

Copia takes in the image of lascivity you display, sighing as a hand runs over the soaked fabric. Your movements suddenly grow more daring as you dip your hand into your panties. The sound that leaves your mouth hits him hard, stirring every desire buried within him. His breath catches in his throat and his cock throbs with the aching need for satisfaction. Your other hand moves to grope your chest, kneading at the supple skin. Copia’s free hand flexes at the sight as he recalls how your body feels under his touch.

As he watches, Copia wishes so desperately that he could fully witness the sight of your arousal. He wants to see how wet you are for him, how swollen and aroused your clit probably is as you swirl your fingers over it. The sounds you make are depraved, amplified for the sake of the camera. Every single one makes his cock throb in his hand. 

Your hand moves off of your chest to tug at your panties. Instead of pulling them off, like Copia had expected, you impatiently drag the fabric to the side, just enough to expose your glistening cunt. Your other hand pulls away to grab your thigh and spread your legs apart. 

‘Look how wet I am for you, Papa…’  

Your voice cuts through the silence. Copia nearly growls at the sight you splay before him. “Sì, cara…so fucking wet for me…” He mutters to himself, so lost in a lustful haze that he doesn’t care that he’s talking to a screen. 

One of your hands begins its descent inwards. You move so slow, so calculated, teasing yourself like you know he would tease you. Copia can see the muscles in your thighs tense as your hips move instinctively towards your hand. Seeing your body twitch with need under your own touch drives him wild.

Finally, your fingers come back into contact with your slick folds. You still don’t bother taking your panties off; you’re so impatient—so eager for something, anything to touch you again—that you can’t wait. 

It’s exactly what he would do if he had his hands on you.

Copia is just as impatient as you, not bothering to take his gloves or pants off as he frees his cock. The cool air of his room contrasts with his warm and flushed skin. He leans back on his hands, spreading his legs as if displaying himself for you to see through the screen. A groan from you makes him throb, and he can’t resist any longer.

He spits into his gloved hand and wraps it around his aching cock. He grunts at the newfound friction. It’s not nearly as wet or warm as you, but it’ll have to suffice for now. Copia moves his hand in time with yours, mirroring each brush of your fingers and swipe of your hand. He can’t help but notice how effortlessly your hand slides through your slickness. His cock twitches with each jerk of your hips as you rut into your own touch, each thrust making another moan fill the air.

Then, unexpected to him, you dip two fingers inside. The whine that pours from your mouth heightens every single one of his nerves. Copia watches with a fiery intensity as you gently thrust your hand, your head tipping back as more cries rip from your throat. He wishes he could jump through the screen and litter your vulnerable skin with kisses and love bites.

Copia’s hand follows yours, pumping in time with each of your slow thrusts. His eyes focus intently on your cunt, watching how it stretches around your fingers. Your arousal seeps onto the sheets below you with each movement. He yearns to be there and lick every forgotten drop off your skin.

He doesn’t even notice that your other hand moved to grab a dildo until he hears the wet sound of your mouth enveloping it. He doesn’t know where you got it, but right now, he doesn’t care. That’s a question for another time when his cock isn’t throbbing in his hand. His eyes are glued to your hand as you move the toy from your lips to the space between your thighs.

‘It’s not as good as you, Papa…but I’m so desperate . I just need something in me.’

Copia watches, mouth agape and eyes wide, as you run the toy through your slick folds. His hips jerk into his hand at the sight. Removing your hand from your depths, your soaked fingers spread your entrance as you position the dildo. Copia’s hand freezes, gripping the base of his cock firmly as anticipation surges through him.

The sight of you pressing the toy inside is one he’ll never forget; how your eyes roll as your head falls back, how your thighs tense, how wet and depraved all the sounds are. You don’t whine the same way you do when it’s his cock pushing into you, but the sound you make is reminiscent enough to make him moan and curse.

You guide the dildo until it’s completely buried inside you, groaning as the base meets your body. You begin to move the toy, barely pulling and pushing, and Copia attentively resumes his strokes. You move slowly—so, very, achingly slowly—as you pull the dildo all the way out and slide it all the way in. He knows you can take more (his cock is bigger, and he’s fucked you rougher, anyways), and this is all for show. It’s like you’re teasing him, like you knew he’d only stroke himself in time with your movements.

And that’s exactly what he does. His hand moves slowly over the length of his cock, his grip firm to mimic your tightness. He grunts with each downstroke as he imagines himself as the one buried deep inside you. 

After a few more tantalizingly slow thrusts, you finally pick up the speed. Your hand moves the toy with a delicious rhythm, drawing out as much pleasure from your body as possible. Copia listens to your moans and cries, reveling in the way you desperately beg your own body for more.

You don’t hesitate to do just that, your hand quickly thrusting the dildo rougher and quicker to satiate your desire. Your muscles tense and your eyes screw shut as the pleasure overtakes your senses. Copia loves watching you like this, so desperate that you can’t tease yourself any longer. Every noise that spills from your lips sends heat pooling between his legs.

His hand matches your speed, stroking his cock with the same desperate fervor you move with. “Yes, tesoro,” he grunts. “Fuck that pretty cunt for Papa.” He knows you can’t hear him, but it doesn’t stop him from encouraging you as if it was his cock stretching and filling you. “Così fottutamente bella…”

Your depraved noises emanate from the television, filling Copia’s room with sounds of sex that could rival a porn flick. He drinks in every little reaction—every sigh and twitching muscle—as it fuels his need for release. He pumps his cock like cumming to the sight of you is the only thing that matters.

Right now, it is.

‘ Fuck, Papa…It feels…so good.’ Your panting voice calls out between gasps and moans. ‘I wish it was you fucking me…I need you in me so badly.’

Copia bites his lip, completely enthralled by the sight on the screen before him. “Cazzo…anch’io, tesoro…” He grunts, barely able to form a complete sentence. All he can do is babble nonsensical praise at the television in front of him. His muscles tense, the warmth pooling in his abdomen daring to spill over.

In a desperate measure to stay aligned with you, Copia stops his movements completely, pulling his hand away from his aching arousal. His cock is flushed and throbbing, beads of precum spilling from the tip, mere seconds away from release. But he doesn’t want to cum yet. He can’t—not until he’s seen you lose yourself in the depths of ecstasy. His hands twitch restlessly on his thighs as he watches you fuck yourself with the dildo. He’s so hard, so close to orgasm, that the denial almost hurts.

Unable to restrain himself, Copia’s hands inch closer and his hips instinctively jerk towards his touch. His threatening climax dissipates, but he can tell yours is steadily approaching. Your toes curl as your thighs shake, your whimpers growing more desperate by the second.

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, pumping slowly before thrusting into his hand. He mirrors your pace as he fucks his hand, moving with the same desperation you do. It takes only a few thrusts before he’s close to the edge again. 

‘Please…fuck, I’m gonna cum. I want…I want you to…to see me cum…’

Copia growls at the sound of your plea. “Sì, cara, sì…vieni per me, tesoro…sei così fottutamente buono per me…”

Almost immediately, as if you could hear him, your body succumbs entirely to the pleasure that flows through you. Copia watches you writhe, your muscles tensing and your hips jerking wildly. The cries that pour from your lips go directly to his cock. His grip tightens as he imagines you clenching around him.

His hips jerk sporadically into his hand, unable to keep a steady rhythm, as he tips over the edge. His own body tenses as his climax washes through him. A guttural moan rips from his throat as drop after drop of his cum lands on his chest. He keeps thrusting into his hand, even after he finishes, because it’s exactly what he’d do if he was buried deep inside you.

You both pant in recovery, heavy breaths filling the air. The wet squelch of the dildo sliding out of your soaking cunt hits his ears. His softening cock twitches at the sound. Copia watches through half-lidded eyes as you shift on the bed, rising from your reclined position to sit up. You look disheveled—sweaty and exhausted—but, damn, if you’ve never looked sexier.

‘I hope you liked your little gift, Papa,’ you coo, blowing a kiss to the camera. Copia can’t help but smile weakly at the gesture. You smile sweetly as you reach out for the camera, effectively ending the tape.

Copia remains on his bed, laying back and allowing his body to recuperate. The image of you cumming around that dildo plays over and over in his mind. He can already feel the blood rush between his legs again at the thought.

Tour rehearsal be damned; the first thing on his mind is to find you as soon as possible and show you how much he appreciates his gift.