#dom cumulus

[forlorn-crows]

YOU DEMAND GHOULETTES AND I HAVE ARRIVEN WITH OPTIONS

GIMME MOMMY DOMME CUMULUS

OR

GIMME SUNSHINE GETTING THROATFUCKED BY CIRRUS'S STRAP

OR

GIMME A SOPPING WET SHOWER THREESOME

C'MON BITCH G I M M E

IM HERE TO BE NASTY, ALSO THANKS TO THIS ANON:

FOR SUGGESTING NIPPLE CLAMPS.

its is filthy wet nasty hours, my dudes. dommy mommy cumulus under the cut.

Cumulus loves to serve. She loves to get bruises on her knees, marks on her throat. She loves to have her face shoved into a wet cunt, fingers tangled in her curls. She’s a giver, and that’s what she does best. Cumulus also loves to be spoiled. She loves to be laid out between her lovers, hands caressing her soft body. Kisses on her tummy, on her cheeks, on her breasts, on her hips. She loves to be treated like an altar at which to be worshipped carnally.

And sometimes, Cumulus likes to own—slip into something a little more intimidating, enthralling, and hauntingly devious. She has a gentle, commanding aura, one that Cirrus and Sunshine can never get enough of.

And so, the two ghoulettes find themselves under Cumulus tonight, following her desires with utter devotion.

“That’s a good girl. What sweet noises you make,” Cumulus coos at Cirrus who’s kneeled beneath her. Cirrus’ hands are placed firmly on her thighs where she’s been told to keep them, despite the fact she’s almost falling onto the floor with the way Cumulus pulls on the chain connected to the clamps on her pert, reddened nipples. Goosebumps dimple the surrounding flesh each time she tugs, followed by breathy moans behind bitten lips.

“My, look how wet you are, my cloud,” Cumulus purrs. And it’s true—Cirrus’ pale blue panties are darkened, almost see-through, clinging to the outline of her folds. It’s the result of what feels like hours of stimulation, every sensation a hot spike of pleasure running from her breasts to her clit. Cumulus reaches down to cup one of her small breasts, framing a clamped nipple between the V of her fingers.

“Oh, oh fuck,” she moans, loud and wanton. The patch of slick gets darker between her legs.

Cumulus hums. She flicks the flushed bud just to watch her squirm a little before rising back up.

“I think she could cum just like this, don’t you Sunny?”

“Y-yeah,” Sunshine breathes from her spot next to Cumulus’ leg. She’s completely fixated on Cirrus, slack-jawed and eyes glassy. Cumulus runs a finger along her short horns, falsely soothing, before wrapping her hand around the appendage and yanking Sunshine’s head back. She gasps, pale column of her throat exposed and craned so her face is pointed upwards.

“Full words, Sunny,” she warns.

“Yes, ma’am.” It’s whispered like a confession.

Cumulus smiles. “Beautiful job. Now get behind Cirrus, won’t you?” She releases the smaller ghoulette’s horn, giving her a light nudge with her foot. Sunshine moves behind Cirrus so she’s positioned between her thighs, back pressed against her chest. Cirrus groans at the contact and lets her head fall back onto Sunshine’s shoulder.

“My girls. What did I do to deserve you?” The coolness of the metal chain kisses Cirrus’ skin as Cumulus steps closer. Sunshine’s eyes trail along the slack of the chain from Cirrus’ nipples, to the junction where the links meet, all the way up to the leather handle and midnight blue polish on Cumulus’ fingers.

She’s truly a sight to behold, standing over them. From this angle she’s all leg, fully encased in delicate, black lace. The jumpsuit highlights all her curves, still radiant in the dark fabric. Sunshine continues to track her eyes down to the very bottom of her heeled feet and all the way up to the very top of her icy-blonde ponytail.

“Hands on her waist, Sunny. And put your head over her shoulder. I want you to watch.” Sunshine does as she’s told, snaking her palms around Cirrus’ middle and resting her chin in the  open space of her neck.

Cirrus thighs start to shake as Cumulus closes the distance between them, putting a hand on the side of her cheek. “Head up, my cloud.” Reluctantly, Cirrus drags her head up and looks at her through lidded eyes. Cumulus runs her thumb along Cirrus’ bottom lip, plush and smooth. She lets her mouth fall open, jaw dragging down under Cumulus’ touch.

“You’re so pliant like this. Pretty.” Cumulus draws closer still, mouth inches from Cirrus’. Just as their lips could meet, she pulls Cirrus’ mouth open further and spits into it, warm saliva straight onto her tongue.

Cirrus whines in shock, high and reedy. Cumulus taps the bottom of her chin, forcing her mouth to close. “Swallow. Whore.” She barely has time to register the command before Cumulus is pulling on the clamps again, short little bursts that take her breath away. It’s enough to almost make her choke on the spit running down her throat. It doesn’t help that now Sunshine’s body is pressed up against her, warm palms at her sides, chest heaving against her back.

“You two are such a pretty sight.” They nod their heads in quick agreement. Cirrus’ clit is throbbing now, slick steadily soaking into her panties and coating the very inside of her thighs. She really could come like this, and she thinks she probably will.

Each tug is erratic, unpredictable. Some are slow and smooth, with even pressure; others are sharp, quick, and laced with beautiful agony. Cumulus adjusts the clamps a few times to ensure they wrap around every part of her nipple.

Cirrus trembles with each wave of pleasure, struggling to keep her head up and eyes open. Moans tumble from her mouth, each punctuated with a heavy breath from Sunshine on her collarbone.

Cumulus can read her like a book, especially with the way her thighs shake and her stomach jumps. “Close, aren’t you, darling?”

The words are heavy on her tongue. But she manages to get them out: “Yes, ma’am.”

“Play with her tits, Sunny.” Sunshine nods, moving her shaking hands up to Cirrus breasts. She cups them gently, slotting the clamps between her fingers. She presses a kiss to Cirrus’ cheek as an afterthought and squeezes.

“Unholy shit, fuck,” Cirrus cries, canting her hips against the air.

Cumulus pulls again, long and hard. “Such a slutty mouth on you, Cir.”

“Uh huh,” she whines, fingers digging crescent marks into the flesh of her thighs.

Cumulus kneels in front of her, dragging downward now. “Gonna cum for me, darling?”

“Please please, y-yes, ma’am.”

Sunshine’s hands knead into her breasts, each press and squeeze lighting up her sensitive nerves. Cumulus runs her hand over them too, feather light in contrast to the way she pulls on the clamps. Cirrus knows what’s coming, anticipation shooting down her spine.

Cumulus runs the pad of her finger over her nipples, caressing the tip of each one and smiling at the way Cirrus writhes under her touch. She leans in close and hovers her mouth just above Cirrus’ pulse point on the side opposite Sunshine.

“Such a good girl,” she purrs before she sucks on the spot, pinching and twisting over the clamps simultaneously.

Cirrus cries out and spasms between them. Hot fluid seeps into her panties and gushes from her cunt onto the wooden floor, pooling between her knees. Sunshine moans in her ear as she watches her twitch and gasp through her orgasm, flush creeping from her neck to her collarbones.

Cumulus pulls back and releases her hands from the clamps, admiring the wreck of a ghoulette before her. She waits for Cirrus to take a normal breath, chest heaving with the effort of sucking in a normal amount of air. Cumulus removes the clamps then and looks down at the underwear now completely translucent against Cirrus’ soaked cunt. She can just see the outline of her engorged clit, still throbbing in the aftermath.

“Oh darling, what a mess you’ve made,” she coos, slightly mean. She rises back to her full height and looms above them, ethereal and intimidating.

“Help her clean it up, won’t you Sunny?”

[autumnblooms]

*wistful sigh* Girls 💕

[wrathofrats]

I could lift your dress up right now and no one would notice - Cirrus and Cumulus

Happy women’s history month to these two and me being strange about them

Also dom cumulus idk why yall don’t ever post lesbian dom cumulus but it’s my turn

Also im forcefemming/ fem shaming my fav masc because i have to I HAVE TO

-

Cumulus picked the dress out for her.

It was the dark green square neck dress she loved on cirrus. Only came to the mid thigh, a couple buttons in the front, something cute and simple. It bounced when she walked, adding an extra pep to her usual more serious demeanor.

“You look cute angel” cumulus smiled, voice sugary sweet compared to cirrus who seemed more uncomfortable, unnatural in the feminine state cumulus had asked her to be in.

A pink toned lipstick covered her lips, mascara and blush also accentuating her features. Cirrus had clearly put it on herself looking at the slightly off placement of the makeup but cumulus thought she looked perfect.

Her thoughts wandered to her putting it on in her room, crossing her legs in the dress while she slowly applied the lipstick, feeling exposed in the short fabric but doing what she was told anyways.

“It’s uncomfortable, I don’t know how you wear these lus” cirrus grumbled, standing next to her. She tugged the fabric lower in a vein attempt to cover herself up more as she looked over to the living room from where they stood in the kitchen. The other ghouls had barely taken notice of her, caught up in some movie she’s sure dew picked out.

“Don’t you like getting all dolled up for me?” Cumulus whispered, watching cirrus roll her eyes and pretend she’s not blushing from the comment. “Getting to be pretty only for me to enjoy?”

Cumulus raised her hand to rest on cirrus’ hip, toying with the skirt. The feeling of the fabric lifting from her thighs made cirrus blush and shimmy to move it back down.

“Can’t you enjoy it somewhere else?”

“Oh no, where’s the fun in that? Don’t you want to watch the movie?” Cumulus giggled, tracing her nail along the exposed skin of her legs.

The movie was some stupid comedy, the ghouls had barely taken attention to it anyways and instead were mostly conversing amongst themselves.

“They’re distracted anyways honey, I could lift your pretty little dress up right now and no one would notice”

Cirrus attempted not to gasp as cumulus made good on her word, lifting the skirt up completely to expose cirrus to her. A dainty pair of black panties adorned her hips, lacy and sheer, clearly picked for cumulus to find.

“Oh those are a bit slutty aren’t they cir?” Cumulus chided, snapping the waistband against her hip “not very lady like to be so exposed”

That’s what got to cirrus. Ladylike. She squeezed her thighs together and gripped the granite countertop as if she wanted to ignore how cumulus was teasing her.

“Thought you wanted me to be pretty for you” cirrus mumbled

“I wanted pretty, not for you to look like a whore for anyone who wanted a peek”

Cumulus’ claw dragged across the lace as if she wanted to practically rip the skimpy thing off of her. Down the swell of her ass and to tease over her fold, scratching up and down where cirrus had already practically soaked through.

“Lus please, what if they hear?” Cirrus gritted

“Clearly you don’t care, considering how wet you are. Honestly should finger fuck you right here and see if they can hear how horny you are from over there”

A finger slipped into the waistband, reaching to touch her properly

“It’s a bit perverse, didn’t take you to be so easy”

Cirrus’ knees buckled a bit as cumulus rubbed over her clit. She attempted to hold herself still and prayed none of the ghouls would look over and notice what cumulus was doing to her.

“I’m not easy” cirrus protested

“Easy enough to let me play with your cunt in front of everyone” cumulus smiled, easing two fingers into her.

[feralghxuls]

you know ive been on my sub swiss bullshit for a while recently but did u know. before he met rain he was a dom 90% of the time. and he still tells people he's a dom but he can sub in an emergency even though overall he doms and subs about 50/50 and with rain he subs like 85% of the time. and he has like four regular doms besides rain that he Only subs for, no switching to be found

anyway. got some dom swiss content rattling around in my brain. hopefully to be released soon uwu

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 9: Clarence House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, Adventures with Aegon (ft. Sunfyre the Ferret), Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, and no more hints for you, start reading!!!

Word Count: 8.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥰🧁

He returns in an afternoon of inescapable golden sunlight, hot and muggy, bumble bees and ladybugs wheeling lazily above tall grass, cumulus clouds like tufts of cotton in a sky the color of Aemond’s eye. You hear him talking to Cadi—she’s out in the front yard making mud pies, earth for sugar and sprinkles of stray pelican feathers—and then the weight of his footsteps on the sinking, sloping porch. He opens the door, never locked, and walks through the living room into the kitchen. From behind, his arms circle around your waist; and you’ve missed him so much—dreaming of waves and storms, chains and blood—that you have nothing for him but softness, gentle smiles and a voice hushed with relief.

“How was Norway?” you ask as you roll out dough on the counter. You’re making a buttermilk pie.

“Fine,” Aemond says, resting his chin on your shoulder. But he sounds tired, low.

You turn around to look at him, raising your fingertips to his unscarred right cheek; he won’t tolerate you touching the left. You leave a dusting of flour across his skin like snow, which you have never seen in person and likely never will. The air conditioner is humming. The little pink Panasonic boombox is playing Africa by Toto. “Did something happen?”

“I just missed you.” Then he brightens. “But I was greeted by some very welcome news when I got back to the house this morning.” He’s wearing his neon teal duffle bag. He drops it to the floor and unzips it; inside you glimpse several Nintendo game cartridges, presumably for Cadi. And you think: I’m always here making things, he’s always bringing them from far away. Aemond takes two small dark blue booklets out of a pocket in the inner lining of the duffle bag and gives them to you. On the front of each is embossed in gold lettering, along with an emblem of a bald eagle: Passport, United States of America.

“…Aemond?!”

“There’s one for you and one for Cadi. I submitted the forms a month ago, but even with expedited processing it took this long. Ridiculous. What does the government do all day besides hunt down social programs to defund?”

“But…but…” You open one of the booklets. A photograph of your own face gazes back at you, serious and serene, taken against the white wall of your bedroom before you knew about Aemond being a Targaryen, or Christabel, or Amir’s exodus to San Franscisco, or the profound futility of everything, it seems. “How…?”

“I took the pictures, obviously. The rest was easy enough to find. You store birth certificates and social security cards the same place where you keep the business records that Amir showed me. Typically people have to go to a passport agency in person, but Criston and I have ways around that. Your signature might have been forged on the applications…but I suspect you won’t be filing any police reports.” Aemond grins, pleased with himself. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely surprising.” You stare down at the passports, amazed. “Aemond…this is a lot. But you already know that.”

“The whole time I was gone, I was wishing you could be there too. And now I can take you anywhere.”

Your heart is pounding, helpless childlike exhilaration. “Where are we going?”

“Clarence House in London.”

London: it’s another world, a distant planet, a constellation whose name you don’t know, the lost city of Atlantis.“Clarence House? Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a royal residence,” Aemond says, amused. “It’s officially the home of the Queen Mother, but the whole family goes to Balmoral in Scotland every summer, and while they’re gone they often rent out one wing to guests, not just anyone, trusted people like distant cousins or longtime, aristocratic friends. And the Targaryens…”

“You’re marrying Christabel, and she’s nobility. So you’re basically nobility now too.”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, a little guiltily, perhaps. “But you’re the person I’m inviting.”

“And Cadi.”

Now he’s genuinely puzzled. “Of course. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

Maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can make this work.

And you climb onto your tiptoes to circle your arms around the back of his neck, embracing him, thanking him, thinking: Christabel will have his ring, his last name, his family’s mansion, his acquiescent kiss at the altar of the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens…but I have what he’s made of, dreams, soul, bones in the abyss of an ocean of blood. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

First class, cheerful stewardesses, an array of magazines purchased from a gift shop in New Orleans International Airport: the National Enquirer and Food & Wine for you, The Face and Smithsonian for Aemond, and National Geographic Kids and Zoobooks for Cadi. The Zoobooks animal this month is the eagle, how quintessentially American. You are served antipasto Italiano, shrimp cocktail, Perrier, and champagne (Cadi gets a Shirley Temple) over the Atlantic Ocean. Aemond shows you and Cadi how to chew gum to pop your ears as the pressure builds to pain. When there is turbulence and he leans in close to tell you everything is fine, Aemond smells like Wrigley’s Doublemint, cologne, Marlboro cigarettes like the logo on his red and white jacket. You press your palm to the cool window, and clouds float by through the gaps between your fingers. The world is older than anything you could fathom; the world is brand new.

There is a black limousine waiting outside Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. The driver gets out to load the sparse luggage: Aemond’s teal duffle bag, a frayed and battered rolling suitcase that you borrowed from your mother, a Super Mario Bros. backpack that you found for Cadi at Kmart. Aemond doesn’t have much time to spare, only 4 days, practically a long weekend; but it feels like an eternity stretches out in front of you as the limousine zooms through the narrow, winding streets of downtown London, Starship’s We Built This City piping from the radio. You have never had more than a few uninterrupted hours with Aemond before. Now you will have a hundred.

The London air is cool, grey, misty; fresh rainwater bleeds into puddles, dark pools of mirrorlike reflections. With the windows rolled down and clean slate-colored air unfurling in your lungs, Aemond points to the landmarks you pass: Gunnersbury Park, Chiswick House and its gardens, cathedrals, museums, shopping districts, centuries-old cemeteries, stations of the London Underground, the River Thames, Hyde Park, the Ritz Hotel, Buckingham Palace, Saint James’ Palace, and at last Clarence House. It is a boxy white four-story townhouse with columns at the entranceway that remind you of the Targaryens’ estate on the shore of Lake Verret, the beautiful yet temporary home they call The Last Desire.

Aemond says that the entire first floor will be yours for the duration of your stay. There is the Lancaster Room, red and gold, and the Morning Room of creams and weak watery blue. There is the Library, the Dining Room, and the vibrantly pink Horse Corridor named for its ample equine paintings and sculptures; Cadi immediately proclaims this to be the best part of the house. She lingers in the hallway examining the art pieces as you and Aemond proceed to the Garden Room, which looks out upon a sea of lavender and shrubs meticulously shaped into a maze no higher than your waist. It has a golden harp and a grand piano, and a vast bed large enough for at least five people, in your estimation. I wonder if Aemond has ever tried that, you think distractedly. I wonder if there are temptations I can’t satisfy for him.

“You and Cadi can have this room,” Aemond says. He keeps wincing and bringing his hand up to the left side of his face; you doubt he’s even aware of it. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.” Of course he will; Cadi thinks you’re just friends, and she’s aware he’s getting married to someone else. He knew exactly what it would mean when he bought a passport for her. “Queen Elizabeth and her husband Philip lived here before she ascended to the throne. They loved it so much that at first they refused to move to Buckingham Palace, which is the traditional residence of the reigning monarch. But their insolence was worn down. No one gets to break the rules.”

I shouldn’t be in this place, you keep thinking as you gaze around at the portraits on the wall, the stiff unnatural photographs of royals, the vases, the chandeliers, the fireplaces, the plush intricate rugs, the garden on the other side of the windows. People like me don’t belong here. “Aemond, are you alright?”

“It’s my eye,” he confesses with an uneasy, apologetic smirk. “Sometimes flights…the altitude changes…it aggravates the nerve damage. It’s like needles in my skull. But I’ll be okay.”

“You fly a lot for work, don’t you?” You hurt yourself for Viserys, in body and soul.

“I do,” he agrees. He unzips his duffle bag and produces a bottle of Percocet. “Why do you think I carry these around?”

“Take one,” you say. “Lie down, rest. Cadi and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours.”

He’s relieved, he’s grateful. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can even borrow the bed.”

“Back between your sheets, huh?” Aemond says, in pain but smiling through it. He draws a semicircle from the part in your hair down to your chin, a weightless sweep of his fingertips like a kind breeze. “You are incurable. You can’t resist me.”

“I have my own scheme in mind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You grab the front of his Marlboro jacket, appropriate for the overcast London weather. He belongs here, this house, this city, this way of life. He wasn’t made for the primordial heat of the swamplands. You fold into him, close enough to tease, to quicken his heartbeat and momentarily clear the wounded furrows from his brow. “I want my pillows to smell like you. I want to breathe you in all night. It’s how I sleep best.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Aemond says, a little stunned; but he’s elated too. For a moment, you’ve distracted him from his suffering entirely. “I’ll roll around all over them. I will mar the bedding irrevocably, the Queen Mother will never invite me back.” And he watches as you leave, his gaze transfixed and meditative and—more than anything else—hopeful.

“Hey, honey,” you say when you find Cadi in the Horse Corridor, poking a 100-year-old oil painting that she is definitely not supposed to be touching. “Let’s go explore and grab some dinner. Aemond isn’t feeling great, but we’ll hang out with him later.”

“Is it his face?”

You are startled. She knows so much. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

“He showed me,” Cadi says casually, still peering up at the horse; and you remember the day when he took her out to the front yard after she said she wished you were more like her friends’ mothers. “He even let me touch it. Radical, right? It’s so gross, but super cool too.”

Aemond couldn’t stand for me to see how he was maimed, but he forced himself to endure it for Cadi. “What did he tell you?”

“That I should appreciate having a good mom, because not all parents treat their kids right. He said his dad let his eye get crushed. And he told me he’d bet $1 million that you’d snap someone’s neck if they hurt me like that.”

You reach out to skim your fingers through her dark disheveled hair, smiling faintly, fondly. Cadi doesn’t seem to mind. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Can we get fish and chips?”

“Totally. I have 50 British pounds in my wallet, I assume that’s enough for dinner.”

“Wow! How much is 50 pounds in dollars?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “Let’s go spend them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evenings, you, Cadi, and Aemond gather around the television in the Lancaster Room and help yourself to the extensive VHS collection stocked for guests. You let Cadi pick: Raiders Of The Lost Ark, The Terminator, Firestarter, the Karate Kid, Aliens. You make popcorn in the extravagant kitchen in the basement of Clarence House and the three of you devour bowlfuls of it as you giggle on the couch, engulfed with throw pillows and playfully kicking at each other beneath the blankets. One night at Cadi’s request you bake Betty Crocker’s Party Rainbow Chip cupcakes with mix purchased at a Tesco down the street; on another you make hot chocolate to sip from antique tea cups. Each day, Aemond has new destinations picked out to tour. You ride the Underground like true Londoners to the Hampton Court Palace, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery, the Kew Gardens, Imperial College where Aemond received the petroleum engineering degree he never wanted.

As he shows you the classrooms where he attended lectures and seminars—you aren’t sure what the difference is, though you can sense that there is one—Aemond doesn’t talk about math or oil drilling. Instead, he tells you and Cadi about the people he learned about in the history classes he managed to slip into his exacting schedule like splinters into flesh: Sir Harold Gillies who pioneered plastic surgery in his treatment of World War I veterans, Phillis Wheatley who was enslaved as a child and became a renowned poet and abolitionist, Boudicca who led a rebellion against the Roman invaders and upon her defeat succumbed to some tragic, enigmatic doom. Aemond loves stories like this, you can see the light that sparks into the crystalline blue of his right eye. There is nothing he deems more heroic than people who took circumstances beyond their control and made something worthwhile out of them.

The night before the flight back to New Orleans, you’re staring at the crown molding of the Garden Room as Cadi snores softly from the other end of the massive bed and silvery moonlight covers the world. You can’t stop your thoughts from roiling like the North Sea; you can’t stop thinking about desks and chairs and books and clever blue-blooded girls jotting down in their notebooks not cake orders but mathematical equations or dates of conquest. When you breathe in the smoke and cologne Aemond left on your pillows, it tastes dark and forbidden. You climb out of the bed, roomy Bob Dylan t-shirt, pink cotton shorts, hair loose and wild, bare feet.

He is outside pacing around the sundial in the center of the garden, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette and pondering the full moon. “Can’t sleep?” Aemond asks, exhaling smoke as he glances over at you.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“What?” He stops pacing. “Why?”

“Imperial College,” you say. “And the sorts of people who go to places like that. You must have known a lot of women who could recite Shakespear and name all the kings of England, all of Jupiter’s moons. Things I never learned. Things that I have no use for. I don’t write books or design machines or study the secrets of the universe. I bake cupcakes.”

“And they’re brilliant,” Aemond says, smiling. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No?”

“No,” Aemond insists. “I think that if you’d been born where I was, you would have done far more with it.”

“Aemond…” You walk across the wet cobblestones to meet him by the sundial. It’s been raining again. The night air is chilly, foggy, painting you with goosebumps. “You still have time to become who you want to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

It’s coming from somewhere, distant but still audible, a parked car or a nearby building: Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Aemond chuckles, flicks the end of his cigarette into the lavender bushes—surely against the rules—and takes your hands in his.

“I remember this,” he says as he dances with you slowly, clumsily; you don’t know the steps. Still, you don’t want him to stop. “In your kitchen.”

He remembers everything. “Right before we went to Olive Garden for the first time.”

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “Of course that’s the part you committed to memory.”

“I’ve held onto a few other details too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like how small the back seat of your Audi Quattro is.”

“A limousine would be far more comfortable. I should invest in one.”

You laugh as he twirls you and you trip over your own feet; he pulls you upright before you can fall to the slick cobblestones. And you think: This is real. No matter what happens between him and anyone else, what we have is safe and extraordinary and real.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cupcake,” Aemond murmurs through your hair, holding you without seeking more. “You and Cadi.”

You want him again, or you’re so close to wanting him that the line is less of a boundary than a quagmire, indistinct edges and quicksand that can drag you down to drown in it. “I never knew that this was possible. Thank you, Aemond.”

“It can be like this all the time.”

Not all the time, you think, knowing that there will always be Jade Dragon, the Targaryens, the stock market, the world, the past and the future, Christabel. But some of it.

Is that enough?

~~~~~~~~~~

Willis agreed to you and Aemond taking Cadi out of the country on one condition: that you return her to him the second you arrive back in Napoleonville. It’s late Tuesday afternoon when the plane’s wheels hit the runway and squeal to a halt. Aemond has left his red Audi in the Park-and-Ride lot. You collect the car and soar west on Route 10 into the red-gold horizon, chasing the setting sun.

“Daddy!” Cadi bellows when she throws open the front door of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office, waving his gift bag excitedly. Inside is a refrigerator magnet, several packages of McVitie’s Digestives in different flavors, and a miniature red-coated Queen’s Guard to keep on his desk, perpetually covered with disorganized papers and crumbs from innumerable desserts. From her poster on the wall, Heather Locklear simpers at you. At the center of the dartboard, poor Tommy Lee is impaled in four different places.

“Comment ca va, cherie?!” Willis opens his arms to hug Cadi when she barrels into him. He guffaws, his eyes are shiny; he has missed her. “Ya had a real good time, I reckon?”

“It was totally tubular. But I’m glad I’m home now. Can I get a horse? His name is Patches and I love him.”

“Huh? What the hell ya need a horse for?” He peeks around Cadi to look at you, a curious blue gaze beneath the thick dark bangs of his mullet. “What’s she talkin’ ‘bout, sugar?”

Beside you, Aemond groans irritably. Then you hear a voice from one of the holding cells, almost always empty: “Hey, cake lady.”

“Aegon?!” you and Aemond say at once, and sure enough, when you check the last holding cell there he is: unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, rainbow flip flops, hair like he’s been in a hurricane, a new eyebrow piercing.

Aemond asks Willis: “What did he do?”

Willis picks up a clipboard from his cluttered desk and begins reading. “Possession with intent to distribute cocaine—”

“I told you, I wasn’t distributing anything! It was for me!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Aemond pleads.

“Possession with intent to distribute marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of methamphetamine less than 28 grams, operatin’ a vehicle while intoxicated, possession of MDMA, possession of alcoholic beverages in a motor vehicle, operatin’ a vehicle with a suspended license, resistin’ an officer…” Willis flips the page. “Speedin’, reckless drivin’, disturbin’ the peace while in an intoxicated condition, possession with intent to distribute Xanax, theft—”

“What the hell did you steal?!” Aemond demands.

“Burritos. I forgot my wallet at home.” Now Aegon is indignant. “But I saidI’d get them back! They didn’t need to call anybody about it!”

“Aegon, Taco Bell does not offer payment plans!”

“I can release him to ya, I guess,” Willis tells Aemond in a slow drawl.

“I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry about him, I’m absolutely mortified, I’ll pay whatever fines you want—”

“Wait, no,” Aegon says, panicked. His hands are gripped around the iron bars. “I don’t want to leave.”

Aemond stares at him. “You’re asking to stay in jail…?”

“I can’t go home. Stephanie’s there.”

“Of course she’s there. You knew she was flying in for the wedding.”

“Please let me stay here until she goes back to Monaco.”

“Definitely not. How’s everything else?”

“There’s something wrong with one of the Lake Verret rigs. Viserys mentioned a…a…I don’t remember, a dirt dump or something.”

“A mud pump?!”

“Yeah! That’s it. That’s what he said. It exploded.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses, then remembers that Cadi’s still there. She gives him a sly grin. You messed up, she means. Aemond looks to you, apologetic, disappointed. “I’m going to have to drop you off and then head straight home. There are messes to be mopped up.”

“No,” Aegon moans as Willis unlocks the holding cell and then wrestles him out of it when Aegon resists. “No, I’m a felon! I’m a danger to the public!”

“Don’t,” Aemond snaps, and this time his brother listens.

You say goodbye to Cadi—she barely notices—but as you go to follow Aemond and Aegon out of the Sheriff’s Office, she has a question. “Aemond?”

He stops. “Yeah, Cadi?”

“Can I go to the wedding?”

“Weddin’?!” Willis exclaims. “Already?!”

“Not mine,” you say.

“You really want to go?” Aemond asks Cadi with some reticence. But he seems to be considering it.

“Well, yeah. Mom said she and Amir are going. You’ll be there. Lots of cake will be there. And I’ve never been to a wedding before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Aemond turns to you, then to Willis, searching for permission. “It’s alright with me,” Willis says. “As long as someone there is keepin’ an eye on her.”

“It’s your choice,” you tell Cadi. “If you’re interested, I have no objections. But you have to be nice to Christabel.”

“Christabel?!” Willis says.

“That’s Aemond’s fiancée.” And there is a collective uncomfortable silence: Willis nodding slowly as he squints at you, Cadi chewing on her thumbnail, Aemond looking down at his Adidas sneakers, Aegon staring vacuously at the Heather Locklear poster on the wall.

With Aegon squeezed into the back seat, Aemond drops you off at the home Cadi calls the Fall-Down House. The new house hasn’t closed yet, but probably will in the next week. The adolescent gator is sunbathing in the last of the daylight in one corner of the yard; you can hear the pink Panasonic boombox inside playing Another One Bites The Dust.

“Ho, you’re back!” Amir cries, jubilant. He hugs you energetically, staining you with the flour on his hands; he’s been watching the bakery while you’ve been gone and keeping every cent of the profits in recognition of his labor, as agreed upon. “How was London?”

You give him his souvenir: a purple t-shirt with Princess Diana’s face on it. “Rainy. Wonderful.”

“Did you have any kinky sex in the royal grandma’s bed?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “But it was…I don’t know how to describe it. Calm. Normal. Easy. Like we could live that way forever.”

“So you’ve decided to be his Camilla.”

“Some moments I have. Other times I haven’t. But more and more, I just…” You try to decide what you mean. “The thought of giving him up feels impossible. And Christabel…they’re so distant with each other, so disconnected, so platonic. Their relationship doesn’t feel real. Maybe I can ignore it. Maybe this is the best I can hope for.”

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “It might feel more real in three days.”

The rehearsal dinner is on Friday; the wedding is only 24 hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really should consider writing a cookbook, dear,” Alicent says from where she sits across from you. The dining room table is covered with flickering pink candles, bouquets of wildflowers, drinks garnished with cotton candy and Pop Rocks. Balloons bump against the ceilings, their long ribbons streaming down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stereo is thumping out Caught Up In You by 38 Special. Everything is pink and red: the colors of love. Yet just like at the engagement party, no one is talking about the couple getting married tomorrow. You could almost forget that there’s going to be a wedding. That makes it easier; and if denial is the terrain you live on now, so be it. That is far less agonizing than the alternative.

“Oh, no,” you demur, taking a sip of a cotton candy cocktail. You exchange a glance with Aemond, sitting several seats down from his mother. He is in a suit—black and white, fitted, faultless—and smiling, proud of you. “A book?! I couldn’t. Not in a million years.” I never even finished high school English.

“But all of my friends from home are captivated by your recipes, darling, and it would be so much easier if I could simply send them a copy of a cookbook rather than trying to describe every dish to them! Please consider it. Do you promise?”

“That I’ll think about it? Not too taxing a commitment. I suppose so.”

“Good,” Alicent chirps, then turns to whisper something to Criston, who drapes an arm briefly across her shoulders and gives her a reassuring little embrace. Amir is chatting with Aemond about San Franscisco. Christabel is talking to Helaena, who has been forced into a voluminous, magenta taffeta dress that she clearly despises; her chameleon Dreamfyre lurches around the table, occasionally stealing tastes of people’s food. Daeron, with Tessarion perched on the back of his chair, is trying to discuss something called seismic testing results with Viserys but getting ignored. Viserys is deep in conversation with Christabel’s father, the marquess, a large loud man whose booming voice drowns out everyone else. The two of them seem delighted, celebratory, very much in their own world. Their schemes have come at last to fruition. Christabel has several younger sisters in attendance—her bridesmaids—but no mother. You gather from pieces of dialogue you’ve overheard that her mother died when she was a child, a terrible and irreparable loss. Otto is so bored he’s flipping through a picture book about Kiribati. Aegon’s wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, is a headstrong, charismatic, and rather critical woman with short dark hair. She notifies Aegon each and every time he fails her, which happens frequently: You’re using the wrong fork. You missed a button on your shirt. You haven’t fucked me properly in over two years. You didn’t send flowers to my grandma’s funeral. This is evidently Aegon’s worst nightmare; he has disappeared upstairs in an effort to escape her.

Dinner is finished, and dessert has been brought by the servants. It turned out more like a crepe cake than a Napoleon cake—the layers of puff pastry didn’t want to fluff up as much as they should have—but no one seems to notice. This time, you and Amir knew the dress code expectations. You are both wearing black to fade into the backdrop like shadows, like distant memories. You are invited guests, but you are also locals, inferiors, recipients of charity.

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena says. “He has to try this cake, it’s delicious! The cherry jam cuts the heaviness of the cream and pastry dough and makes it a perfect dessert for summer! And the color is delightful! It looks just like blood!”

“Where the hell is he?” Viserys demands, looking around, twisting in his chair. “It’s his brother’s rehearsal dinner, for Christ’s sake. One night of this importance and he can’t handle it? I swear to God, if he’s snorting or smoking anything up there I’ll have him committed to an institution—”

“I’ll find him,” you offer as you stand from the table. You have to visit the bathroom anyway, too many glitzy pink cocktails; two birds, one stone. You depart from the table and Aemond’s gaze follows you, a low heat that is building towards incineration, a baiting promise of dark euphoria that you can no longer pretend you don’t want desperately, defenselessly. Christabel gives you a sweet little wave. She is dripping in gold—dress, heels, jewelry—and seems happier tonight, more self-assured. Perhaps with the wedding so close, her trepidation concerning Aemond’s commitment has evaporated. Surely it is too late to call off the ceremony now. Tonight they feast, tomorrow they recite their vows, and then…

But no, you don’t think about the honeymoon. You will not allow yourself to. It can’t exist to you, and that is how you’ll survive this. Christabel will be in one universe, you in another, two timelines that never cross like something out of Star Trek. And the way she and Aemond interact is so impersonal, so untactile, that it is not so difficult to treat anything beyond chaste pecks on cheeks as an impossibility.

At the top of the staircase, Vhagar is lurking. She wags her long twiglike tail when she sees you and licks the knuckles of your left hand. You give her a pat on the head—and then several more when she whines as you try to leave—then at last she lopes off down the hallway.

Aegon is exactly where you’d assumed he’d be. He’s in his bedroom hunched over his computer and hammering furiously at the keyboard. There’s white powder on his fingers and in his thin mustache. On the screen, bizarrely, is what appears to be neon green grass and an ox-drawn wagon like the ones from the pioneer days. Sunfyre the ferret is stretched out across the bed napping, his angular face resting on his paws.

Aegon whirls around to face you. He is wearing a lime green satin suit but has forgotten to put on a shirt under it. “What? What? What do you want? I’m playing Oregon Trail. I have dysentery.”

“You have what…? Never mind, it’s not important. You need to come downstairs and eat some dessert. People are wondering where you are.”

“I’m busy.”

“If you don’t make an appearance on your own, Viserys will come looking for you. Also there are some Cap’n Crunch treats I left on the kitchen counter that you might be interested in.”

“Consider me tempted. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“You better be,” you tell Aegon, then retrace your steps back to the kitchen. Amir and Christabel are both there getting cans of Pepsi from the fridge and making very cumbersome small talk…or perhaps only Amir thinks it is that much of a burden. Christabel is chattering blithely away about different types of wildflowers. He gives you a look like Oh thank God, an excuse to escape and wastes no time heading back to the dining room.

“Did you notice what’s playing now?” he asks you just before he vanishes, then points towards the stereo in the grand foyer. You listen; it’s Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. “You think they know this song is about class warfare?”

“You should tell them,” you joke.

“Yeah, if I want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.” Then Amir is gone.

“How are you doing?” you ask Christabel to be polite. You open the refrigerator and start hunting for your own can of Pepsi. “Excited? Nervous? You seem a little more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Are the wedding jitters finally dissipating?”

“They are,” she says, and when you glance back at her she is wearing a bashful sort of smile. It’s not an expression you can read. You resume digging through the refrigerator for a can of Pepsi; Amir and Christabel might have taken the last ones.

“That’s good,” you say noncommittally, hoping she’ll leave. But Christabel doesn’t leave. She seems to have something she needs to say. Just as you spy a lone can of Pepsi at the very back of the refrigerator and lean in to grab it, she proceeds to unburden herself.

“Well, you know, I was so concerned about me and Aemond before. I had no conviction that he especially liked me, and we never had anything to talk about, and he was so dreadfully undemonstrative…I was just beside myself, truly. I didn’t know what to do. But I feel much better about everything now. Norway was so good for us.”

Norway?

You close the refrigerator, your ice-cold Pepsi can clutched in your hand. You’re going cold all over. Slowly, you turn towards Christabel, glittering in her gold dress.

Norway???

“He took you on the North Sea trip.” You hear the words, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve said them. They sound flat and dazed.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” Christabel says; and again, her smile has no cruelty or sharp awareness in it, but her cheeks are pink. She’s blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about? “My father doesn’t know. He wouldn’t approve. But I just felt…I felt ready, you know? I’m sure you understand what I mean. You aren’t so clinical and aloof about everything. I had to know if Aemond and I really had something between us before we got married.”

“You felt…ready?” Ready for what? Ready for WHAT, Christabel?

“I asked Aemond to take me with him. I begged, actually.” She giggles. “I won’t try to be proud about it! And finally he said yes. We stayed at a lovely hotel in Bergen, and during the day he would have to fly by helicopter out to the rigs, but at night…”

You’re staring blankly at her. You can’t believe what you think she’s going to say. Surely it must be something else, anything else—

“It wasn’t my plan to ever be intimate with a man before marriage, but sometimes…things change. Minds change, circumstances change. And I knew I wanted it. And it went so well! Now what do I have to be nervous about? All the uncertainties are resolved. Now we just sign the paperwork and start our lives together.”

He took her to Norway.

He slept with her in Norway.

“I hope it was just as good for him,” Christabel muses, a compulsive sort of oversharing. But she has had a few cocktails and she thinks you’re nonjudgemental and there’s probably not a single other soul she feels she can be truthful with…so why not the girl who got knocked up at prom and had a baby at seventeen? Surely she’s in no position to judge. “It’ll be even better once we can…you know. When we’re officially trying for a baby and there’s no need to worry about any precautions. I want Aemond to enjoy himself as much as possible. I want to be a good wife to him.”

You feel dizzy; you feel violently ill. And now you see everything: Aemond kissing her with his mouth open and ravenous, his hands between her legs, his hips pressed to hers, peeling off her clothes and learning how to make her moan, make her wet, make her come, and you think of how careful he must have been with her, a girl with no past, no ex-husband, no childbirth that nearly killed her, no stretchmarks and no baggage, just a smooth pristine rivulet of flesh that was so pure and uncontaminated it was weightless, and you can hear—though you don’t want to, though it feels like it will kill you—how tender he was, how encouraging, not a dominant who drinks down fantasies like a vampire sustained by blood but just a man, and a man who has at last found a woman he doesn’t need to grab, bite, bruise, handcuff to a bedpost to feel satisfied with.

He took her to Norway and he never told me.

You are saying something, and Christabel is nodding appreciatively, accepting the sage wisdom of a tarnished life. Your words don’t matter. They are folktales and charms, the croaks of bullfrogs, the whispers of the wind through Spanish moss, the Morse code of ripples in the water of the bayou. You are a novelty and your counsel is a souvenir; one day when she is living in California or Argentina or Australia or Alaska or her ancestral castle back in the U.K., Christabel will tell Aemond’s children: Once I met a nice single mom from Napoleonville Louisiana, and she told me to follow my heart and not let anyone shame me for wanting to be close with my soon-to-be husband.

Vhagar trots into the kitchen and begins nudging her massive head against Christabel’s bare knees. “Hi, big girl!” Christabel coos as she pets the blue merle Great Dane, clearly accustomed to this. “Who’s a giant gorgeous girl? You are!”

What did I expect? I knew they were getting married. I knew they were going to sleep together.

Yes, you knew it, but you hadn’t felt it, and now you have.

I can’t do this, you realize. I thought I could but I can’t.

“Christabel?” Alicent is calling like a windchime. “Darling, there are just a few more things we have to discuss before tomorrow, will you come back to the table please?”

“On my way!” Christabel replies obediently, and she gives you a quick, impulsive hug before vanishing.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m going to drop dead right in the middle of this fucking kitchen.

Leaving your can of Pepsi forgotten on the countertop, you escape to the living room and then out the French doors into the garden. You run past the pool all the way to the pond full of multicolored fish you once hadn’t known were koi. You drop to your knees, then lie down on the cold cobblestones, and when it hits you again—Aemond touching her, Aemond loving her—you rupture into sobs that are breathless and shuddering. You try to stifle the noise with your palms; you clasp them over your mouth and smother your wails. It feels like you’re being ripped apart; it feels like you’re in labor, but there is no end, no consolation of a new life, no point at which your body chooses whether you live or die. It is only a razored wheel that turns in you again and again and again, shredding muscle and splitting bones.

There is a hand on your shoulder; someone is patting it awkwardly. You look up to see Aegon standing there. “Sorry,” he says. “You look…not good.”

“I’m really not good. I’m fucking terrible.” Your face is soaked and stinging with tears, your voice is strangled.

“Do you want some coke?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“From you? Yeah, for sure, getting impaled by a stop sign would be a great next move for me.”

“I’m totally fine to drive.”

“Can you just pull Amir aside without anyone else noticing and tell him to say his goodbyes and then meet me in the driveway, please? He drove me here. I need him to take me home.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, and then: “Thanks for the Cap’n Crunch Treats. Thanks for remembering something I like and caring enough to bring more. No one really does that around here.” And he’s gone before you can think of a reply.

To get to the driveway without going though the house, you climb over a 5-foot wrought iron fence swarmed with rosebushes and ivy, no easy feat in a black Kmart dress and matching ballet flats. You acquire a dozen shallow gashes on your hands and forearms, but make it to the Ford Escort just in time for Amir to meet you under the full, cloudless moon, tossing his car keys from one hand to the other.

“What did—?” Then he sees your face. He gasps, knowing how bad it is. He’s never seen you like this. He didn’t know it was possible for you to look like this. He unlocks the Ford Escort and joins you inside, turning the key in the ignition. “What the fuck did Aemond do to you?!”

“I have to go home. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t do this.”

Amir is spinning out of the driveway. “Did he hurt you, did he—?!”

“He fucked Christabel in Norway,” you say, sobbing uncontrollably. “And I know I have no right to be jealous, I know we don’t have a conventional relationship, I thought I could handle this but I can’t. I can’t stop picturing him with her, and hearing it, and I…I…I don’t understand why this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“Babe,” Amir says gently, a palm on your trembling thigh. “You’re in love with him. That’s why.”

“This is killing me,” you whisper. You’re shaking all over. You feel like you’re battling for every breath.

Your best friend—your only friend—is quiet for a long time. “Don’t go tomorrow,” Amir finally says. “You don’t need to see the wedding. You shouldn’t put yourself through that. I’ll go, I can handle the cake alone, especially if Cadi’s with me to help with carrying plates and stuff.”

You don’t say anything. You stare out the nightscape window and mop tears from your face with McDonald’s napkins you find in Amir’s glovebox.

“Did you hear me? I don’t think you should go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you agree hoarsely. “I can’t watch them have my wedding.”

“Willis is dropping Cadi off in the morning, right? I’ll pick her and the cake up from your house and bring her back when it’s over. You can tell her whatever you want…you have another cake order to work on, you’re sick, you’re injured, your mom needs a ride to the doctor, whatever.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“Hey, look at me.”

You do, sniffling, shivering, in agony.

“You don’t deserve this. You deserve better than this.”

I don’t think I do. I think if I did, it would have happened by now. But you know Amir will not accept this answer. “Okay,” you say again, trying to make yourself believe it.

In the gravel driveway of your sinking house, Amir asks if you want him to say. You tell him no, you want to be alone, you have to think, you have to plan. Really, you just don’t want anyone to see you this shattered. It’s humiliating, it’s like you’re an animal, like something less than human needing to licks its wounds in a dark place. You walk into the Fall-Down House and flip on the kitchen light, artificial yellow luminance. You don’t start the air conditioner. You don’t touch the Panasonic boombox. You stand there mindlessly in the sounds of the bayou: cicada screams, owl hoots, the far-away hissing of gators. The wedding cake is in the refrigerator, banana bread, cream cheese frosting, a kaleidoscope of wildflowers painted by Amir’s expert hand. He’s leaving. Aemond’s leaving. Everyone is leaving.

There are tires crunching on gravel in the driveway, there are footsteps on the sloping porch. He is able to yank the door open because you never lock it. He blows in like a storm that kills.

“What the hell happened?!” Aemond shouts. “Why did you leave?! You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me—”

“You took her to Norway.”

Aemond’s face goes from furious to lost. “Why would she tell you that?”

Not That’s not true, not Let me explain, not It didn’t mean anything. Your stomach sinks, a basket full of stones. “Because she thinks I’m her friend.”

“It wasn’t…” Aemond sighs. “It was a last-minute thing, and it was her idea. She really, really wanted to go to Norway, and I figured…you know…what’s the difference between the wedding night and a few weeks before it? So yeah, it happened—”

“Oh God,” you whisper, starting to sob again.

“And then I came home to your house, to your doorstep, because I missed you the entire time. The entire time, every hour, every minute, and there are no exceptions, okay, are you listening to me? I took her to Norway because I had to. I took you and Cadi to Clarence House because I wanted to. What I do with her is a reflex, an obligation, I’m on autopilot, I’m thinking of you to get myself hard, I don’t know how else to express to you how completely different these situation are in every single goddamn way.”

“She said it was good,” you say huskily, tears snaking down your cheeks that are raw from trying to dab them dry.

“Of course it was good for her!” Aemond flings back. “I’ve had a lot of casual sex, I know how to make women come, it’s a math equation, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates!”

“I know I have no claim to you, but I…” You gaze out the kitchen window, dark and still, nothing to see but stars and lighting bugs. “I can’t do this.”

Aemond asks, kindly now: “What do you want?”

I want to not have to beg you to choose me. “I want this to be over.”

“No,” he says, panicking. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to give this up as soon as it gets painful? I’m not worth fighting for, what I can do for you and Cadi isn’t worth a little pain? Because I’m no stranger to it either. You think I’m not hurting, you think nothing ever keeps me awake at night?”

“You could leave your prison any time you want to. But instead you built a brand new one around me.”

“You don’t understand what the kind of responsibility I’m beholden to feels like.”

“Yeah, a town named after Napoleon is the right place for you,” you seethe, enraged. “You’ve felt so fucking small your whole life that now you’re starving for what it tastes like to be in control. But I can’t let you destroy me. I can’t let my daughter grow up watching me settle for less than I need from a man. She’ll learn to live the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Aemond,” you say, and you wait until he looks at you. “Do you really want children?”

When he answers, his voice frayed and his right eye misty. “I love Cadi.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want children of your own with Christabel?”

“I have to,” he says, miserable.

“No,” you plead. “You cannot have a baby with that girl. You can’t, Aemond. You are going to ruin so many lives, not just your own.”

“I have to,” he says again.

“Then get out. Viserys owns you, and Viserys wouldn’t want you here. He would want you back at the mansion impregnating your child bride.”

“She’s a legal adult, she’s 19, and she wants me, she begs for me, I’m not twisting her arm—”

“Then go!” you roar, striking him hard, both palms to his chest. Aemond doesn’t budge. “Get out, go home, go have kids you won’t give a fuck about just like Viserys never cared about you. Go repeat the cycle all over again. I’m done. I can’t be a part of it.”

“I won’t be like him,” Aemond swears.

“You will be. You already are.” You shove him again, but still, Aemond doesn’t move. You know what he’s waiting for, you know the right word to say. But you can’t get it to launch from your lips; it catches in your throat like a blade through the windpipe. “Get out!”

Your fingers hook into the lapels of his black suit jacket and stay there; you can’t let go. You’re both breathing heavily; you can hear it, you can feel the heat in the air. You keep his jacket gripped in your hands, he can move no closer, no farther away. When he leans into you, you breathe in his smoke and cologne; when his hands cradle your face, you feel the benevolent power that once gave you peace.

I want him. I need him. Not forever, no, I understand that’s not possible. But just for right now.

You look up at him and Aemond kisses you, his lips and tongue claiming you like untouched land; he puts down roots, he slits the jugulars of trespassers.

Here. Now.

You drag him down with you. When you drop to the floor, you strike the back of your skull against the scuffed, sloping wood and bite back a yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond says, though it isn’t his fault; he reaches for your head and cushions it with his right hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You’re tearing open his white shirt; tiny translucent buttons go flying in every direction. Your palms glide over his chest, up to his throat, to his jaw, to knot in his hair. He reaches beneath your dress to slide off your panties, then buries his fingers between your legs. You moan helplessly, needfully, spreading your thighs wider for him. No man has ever been able to do this to you before: to make you forget everything, to make you feel—if only for a moment—beloved, worthy, chosen. He’s kissing you like he knows this is the last time. You’re touching the left side of his face and he doesn’t even notice, he won’t realize until later that there was a time when he was cured.

Aemond pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants, flips it open, and roots through it until he finds a condom. He starts to rip it open, moving with desperate speed, dire impatience.

“No, don’t,” you say. “Please don’t. I want all of you.” And I won’t get another chance.

He exhales in deep, ecstatic relief; he wants it too. You’re soaked, you’re ready, you’re aching for him like mending bones. He eases himself into you, gasping, and you are stunned by how good it feels already, how close you are, every rope of nerves and muscle glimmering with an opening heat that builds higher and higher, the reverse of a tornado finally touching down on earth. His hands are linked with yours and pinned to the floor above your head; he’s kissing you, he’s moaning into you, he thrusts deeper and harder when you beg him to do it.

Aemond untangles one hand from yours and reaches low to stroke you. Your fingers find his again and catch him, capture him, bring his hand back to the floor where it can be entwined with yours and his weight can hold it to the scraped wood. “I don’t need it, I’m close. Stay here. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” he whispers, panting; and the friction of his body against yours overtakes you, and when you come it is blinding, bone-breaking, a whirlpool that traps you for what feels like over a minute, soaring highs punctuated by the illusion of fading over and over again until you think you can’t stand it, and only then does it end, Aemond collapsing on the floor beside you covered in your sweat and your wetness, you feeling the remnants of him bleeding down your bare thighs.

You drag yourself upright—muscles sore in your belly and back and thighs—and roll onto your knees so you can stagger to your feet. You tug on your panties so he doesn’t drip out of you onto the floor. Then you straighten the skirt of your black dress, turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox—it’s a U2 song, Where The Streets Have No Name—and begin washing a muffin tin that was left in the sink.

Aemond stands up and runs a hand through his hair, getting his bearings. He looks down at his pants and fixes his zipper and belt. He tries to close his shirt and then remembers you tore off the buttons. They lie scattered across the floor, useless.

As you scrub the muffin tin, you hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you. His palms begin at the small of your back and then skate around your waist to encircle you.

“Stop,” you tell him; and immediately his hands fall away. Aemond waits for you to say more, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him.

He walks to where the kitchen becomes the living room—you can tell by the creaks in the floor—and again, he waits. After a while he says: “I’ll call you when the new house is ready.”

“No. Have Criston handle it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

“You get that I’m in love with you, right?” Aemond forces out, and when at last you turn to him there is the metallic glistening of tears on his right cheek. “I never feel this way about anyone. I don’t know how to handle it, I didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s true.”

“It’s not enough,” you say simply, and resume scrubbing the muffin tin.

He waits in silence, thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. Then the door opens and shuts—like the jaws of a beast—and he’s gone.

[endless-weightless]

Random nameless ghoul headcanons (SFW and NSFW)

I'm taking the piss with all of these. And remember, kids, this is fanfiction!

I mostly just wrote about the current ghouls but I'm more than happy to write about any past ghouls if you guys want!

TAGS/WARNINGS: mating cycles, CNC, weed mention, primal play, polyamory and orgies,

SFW✄

All of the ghouls have a specific scent but Mountain for some reason can emit any particular scent so long as it's earth related. He usually smells like pine trees and grass but if any of the ghouls are anxious leading up to rituals or just worried in general he'll make himself smell like lavender because he knows how calming it is.

Mountain is also victim to clothing robbery because he smells so nice and is SO DAMN TALL.

They're some of the most open-minded and accepting people you'll ever meet.

Full moons tend to have a weird effect on the ghouls. Not as bad as say a werewolf but they definitely become a bit more... feral. The less extreme effects would just be heightened senses and craving gamey meats more while the worst of the worst would be bordering violent and definitely nsfw (see nsfw for more on this). They'd probably call it a hunter's moon (badum tss).

All of their eyes glow very faintly in the dark.

Their pupils are like a mix of feline and just regular ol' human.

They all have claws but Aurora and Sunshine are the only ones who actually have them out because everyone else needs short nails to play their instruments.

They all purr when they're happy or they're experiencing physical affection, though the volume and intensity varies depending on the ghoul.

Mountain sleeps like a log unless he's sharing a bed, then he's everyone's teddy bear and always has an arm around someone whether he agreed to it or not.

Rain absolutely HATES throwing up.

Swiss and Sodo convinced Mountain to grow marijuana by letting him try some. The ghoul den now constantly smells faintly of weed.

All of the ghouls have their own bedrooms but prefer to cuddle with each other and usually just make a nest out of blankets and pillows in the main common room area and turn it into one giant bed for everyone.

Cirrus and Aether tend to take on an almost parental role in the group just to keep the newer ghouls in line which can be draining at times but rewarding in the end.

They all have black tails and horns that are pretty much identical with the only difference being everyone has a slight tint to theirs depending on their element (Sodo's are red, Rain's are blue, Phantom and Aether's are purple etc).

Their fangs aren't actually too sharp. Could be because they've just become blunter over time with less need to bite actual people.

Most of them straight up act like cats depending on how new they are to the mortal plane. Since Omega’s been on earth the longest, he acts more closely to a human than Phantom, who is fresh out of hell.

Zephyr gets really bad chronic leg pains which is why he's always sitting while performing and so quick to sit back down after finishing the Mummy Dust solo.

Aurora has super painful cramps leading up to her heat so Sodo has taken it upon himself to use his hands as a heating pad for her (which he will do for anyone in need of a heat pack).

NSFW✄

If you had to make a spectrum of all the ghouls from most submissive to most dominant, it'd be Sunshine, Phantom, Rain, Cumulus, Swiss (ultimate power switch), Aurora, Ifrit, Sodo, Mountain, Zephyr, Cirrus, Aether, Alpha and finally Omega.

None of them are strictly doms or subs, they like experimenting and switching things up every once in a while to keep things interesting but they certainly have preferences.

They all enjoy both monogamous and polyamorous sex equally. Sometimes they just want soft intimate sex with one person or they're just craving multiple people.

Full moons don't make everyone horny in an "I need to impregnate someone/be impregnated now" way, they make the ghouls horny in a primal way...

Some of the ghouls that are more affected by the full moon or just enjoy primal play with a bit of CNC will sometimes ask some of the siblings of sin and/or you if you'd all be comfortable with letting them "hunt" you down.

Aether and Cirrus have sleepy and lazy sex when they're tired from dealing with the ghouls and need a break and some relief.

Mountain is always looking down the sisters of sin's and the ghoulette's tops to see their cleavage. In his defence he's pretty fucking tall and can't help that he has to look down to talk to people.

If anyone in the group, including you, are feeling lonely, stressed or just exhausted and in need of some kind of relief, all of the ghouls are more than willing to give head to anyone for hours, making sure they cum at least four times before they let them have a break.

All of them have a marking kink because of their need to mate during heats and ruts.

They all go just a teensy bit feral when they pick up on the scent of a virgin with Swiss being the most dramatic about it.

And if someone doesn't smell like a virgin but instead like ghoul, they still go feral because ghouls like sharing when the moon isn't full.

Aether feels the constant need to slap every ghoul and ghoulettes ass possible, even Sodo.

Aurora, Zephyr and Phantom the most handsy out of the ghouls.

Heats and ruts are already hellish enough, but what makes it worse for the ministry is how only half of the ghouls get their heats and ruts at the same time while the other get it the other half of the time, which basically means twice as many heats and ruts in a month.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

that's all my lovelies, lmk if you want any more!

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 28th

Free Use, Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 3.3k.

Warnings: Free use; mean but caring dom!Copia; public nudity; glove kink; vaginal fingering; orgasm denial; degradation; face-sitting; cunnilingus; dry humping; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; exhibitionism; praise kink (hello, it me, emotionally unavailable but wants intimacy); animalistic; dubcon (if you squint real hard);

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Papa’s dressing room was loud to say the least, with siblings running around to make sure all of his belongings were packed back up into their rightful suitcases, and Ghouls taking care of themselves. You were ready to go, all of your things packed away and loaded into the van early as possible so you wouldn’t disturb the siblings who actually had things to do, thus, you stood in the corner of the room and prayed to Satan that no one needed anything that was on the table next to you. You would have left the room and gone to a quieter place, or even waited in the van had it not been for one very important detail: Papa Copia.

Papa needed to know where you were at all times, no exceptions, no changes, do not pass go, do not collect $200. You were a vital cog in his life’s wheel, a necessary person to keep with him, and answering to no one but him. You were his best friend, his confidante, his lover… and, as he liked to call you, his “reverse stress ball”; reverse because you squeezed the stress out of him. Stress or worry… he pumped in negativity, you released positivity.

Turns out, someone did need the stuff that you were standing in front of, and once again you were in the way. One of the older sisters, who was new to touring with Papa, practically shoved you out the way. “Go stand outside, lovely.” She told you.

“I can’t, I-”

“I don’t care about your excuses, you’re in the way and you have to move.”

And so, you were being pushed out the door and into the oncoming traffic of stage hands and assistants, despite your protests. The corridor was even worse than the dressing room, and you were pulling some serious Matrix moves in order to stay out of people’s way and find somewhere quiet to stand. You eventually found a small pocket of air to breathe in, but it didn’t last very long, it just gave you enough time to pull your phone out and shoot Papa a quick text, and even try to call him. But he didn’t respond to either. And so, you were forced further down the corridor and into a broom closet where you were able to finally rest and de-stress yourself.

Time ticked on in the darkness of the broom closet, and eventually the hustle and bustle of the busy Siblings had dwindled down to mere footsteps of lone people wandering about the venue. No more were wheels rolling against the tiled floors, and thus, you deemed it safe to return to Papa’s dressing room, unaware of just what was waiting there for you.

The hustle and bustle of the stage hands may have died down, but Papa’s Ghouls were in a frantic mess which was only relieved by your entrance to the dressing room. Their masks hid the look of relief on their faces, but they expressed it through deep sighs and hands flying to their hearts.

“Oh, thank Lucifer you’re back!” Cirrus exclaimed.

Aurora, “And that you’re safe!”

Phantom, “Papa is furious. He couldn’t find you.”

You, “Where is he now?”

Phantom shrugged, which sparked Dewdrop to pipe up, “Somewhere looking for you, I’d imagine.”

You, “I tried getting in touch with him several times, but he wasn’t answering the phone.”

Cirrus, “Yeah well, that’s Papa for you.”

“Did he really not say where he was going?”

Cumulus, “I know he had to go back to the stage, but I can’t tell you that he’s still there.”

Dew, “I’ll go find him and then text someone if he’s still there. I think, sister, it would be best if you stayed here until we know for sure.”

When the text arrived that Papa was still on the arena floor, in a meeting with another Sibling, you practically sprinted all the way there. The longer Papa was without you, the angrier he’d get. He didn’t have a bad temper - he wasn’t particularly frightening or inconsiderate of your own feelings. In fact, in all the years you’d known him, you only ever heard him raise his voice in anger twice. Usually, he was a calm, rational man who would take himself off to calm down and then address the irritation with a clear head and logical reasoning. But you weren’t where he’d left you - he needed you to be where he left you.

That was never more apparent than when he saw you for the first time since the show ended, paints cracked and smeared from sweat and hair slicked back with the same substance, tousled from exertion and probably worry. His eyes flickered with a range of emotions; fear, relief, then rage. He stopped the Sibling from talking by raising his hand (uncharacteristically rudely) and stormed over to you.

“Papa, I-”

His gloved hands wrapped around your biceps and he held you at arm’s length, examining your clothed body for imperfections or injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Papa.”

“Did anyone frighten you?”

“No, Papa.”

“Mentally and emotionally, are you okay?”

“Mostly, Papa.”

“Percentage, schricchio.”

“Ninety, Papa.”

“Then where the fuck did you go?”

“I’m sorry, Papa!” You explained to him the situation from start to finish, leaving out only the older Sibling’s name which you didn’t know. The look of fury on his face was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

“What did I tell you when you first came on tour with me?”

“I answer only to you, Papa. I know but-”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, schricchio!”

“I tried calling you but-”

“Back talk? Really?”

You averted your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Barricade, now.”

“What?”

“Barricade.”

“But, Papa, I-”

“Do not make me ask you again.”

He practically frog marched you over to one of the remaining pieces of the barricade that had been left by the venue workers who were clearing away. He positioned you against it so that your elbows were using it for support and pulled your hips out so that your ass was placed at the perfect and accessible angle. That was when you’d noticed that all eyes had been on you both the entire time, watching Papa scolding you and putting you in a precarious position. You hated the feeling, knowing that their scrutinising eyes were judging every single thing you did while also hoping that they could stay for a show. But there was a part of you, deep down - way down - that loved the idea that they were hoping they could stay for a show. There was something so animalistic about the way Papa would take you in front of, at most, one hundred people. Like he was claiming you for his own and showing the world just who the fuck you belonged to.

“Um, Papa?”

“Eh?”

You gestured to the audience that had now gathered around the arena and Papa sighed, exasperated by the nerve of some people. How dare they watch as he prepares to take you in the pit of a public place? “I am going to fuck my partner now,” he announced loudly, “I’d prefer it if you left, but I will be inside of her whether you are here or not.”

Swiss’ loud voice boomed from the corner of the room. “Alright, everyone, wrap it up. Take a twenty minute break or something, I don’t know. Let’s go!”

As people began filing out of the arena, Papa began making short work of your bottom half, pulling your jeans and panties all the way down. You weren’t entirely wet for him just yet, not as soaked as he would like, but he would rectify that soon enough. He spat on his leather glove, the sound of it echoing through the now empty arena and going straight to your cunt. He rubbed his saliva-covered gloves over your folds, artificially slicking them up for him to be able to sink himself into.

“You deliberately disobeyed me, schricchio.” He told you, rubbing circles over your clit and softly breaching your walls with his thumb. “You left your Papa wanting and waiting, didn’t you?” He tutted. The way the soft leather of his glove stroked over you felt like melted butter being poured onto your body. You sighed as the pleasure began to grow, your knees growing weak at the stimulation. “What should you say to your Papa?”

“I’m s-sorry, Papa!” You said, moans beginning to creep up and escape your throat as he applied more pressure to the fingers working over your clit.

“Do you think this is acceptable? Do you think only an apology is acceptable?”

“No, Papa.” In actuality, you did think that was acceptable. He got to use you now, didn’t he? What more could you do?

“Hmm.”

Papa remained quiet from that moment on, watching from behind you as your slick began to coat his hand and listening with fascination as your moans got louder. His thumb that was inside you, never went any deeper than the first knuckle, barely providing you with the right amount of pleasure and teasing your hole, stretching you, but ignoring the deep ache from within. He, occasionally, would let out the odd grunt or groan here and there, but for the most part he was laser focussed on your own pleasure, making sure you got everything you were now craving.

This was what he loved about fucking you: it never took you long to get as wet as he wanted or needed. He loved that he could take you at any point, and with just a little effort he could get you ready for him within minutes. That you would willingly spread your legs and beg for his cock to be deep inside you as if you’d been craving it all day, or that it was the only antidote to a deadly poison. It never seemed to matter which appendage he used on you, you would always be mewling for him and screaming for him to let you cum.

“P-Papa, I’m close!”

Papa, ever the lover of condescension in the bedroom, used that tone of voice with you. “Oh, you are? My little schricchio wants to cum on her Papa’s fingers?”

“Yes, Papa. Please!”

He stopped his ministrations and pulled his hand away. “No.”

Your eyes widened and you looked back at him. “No! Please!”

“You really think you deserve to cum after the shit you pulled today? Non ci posso credere. Sono deluso. I thought you knew better than this.”

Papa Copia, like most men, had a weakness: desperation. When you hung yourself off of him absolutely begging for anything, you knew you’d get your way eventually. And so, with this in mind, you dropped to your knees, your delicate skin hitting the cold, hard (and very dirty) concrete floor. You gripped onto Papa’s thick thighs clad in the tightest of skinny jeans as he’d not changed into his sweats yet, and began mouthing at the cloth over his deliciously hard cock. “Please, Papa. I’m so sorry for what I did. I should have listened to you. I should have listened to my Papa because he knows what’s best for his little slut.”

“Cazzo.” He muttered under his breath, watching you degrade yourself for him. He could almost pretend that you were worshipping him when you were doing this.

“Please give me your cock, Papa. Please let me make you feel good. I want you to fuck my tight, little cunt and fill me with your cum. Please, Papa.”

Resisting you was not a skill he had. He placed the same hand that was inside of you and now covered in your slick on your chin, and gently pushed you away from his cock. He forced you to look him in the eyes, and a brief gentility washed over his face as he drank in the way you looked; how sinfully innocent you looked right now for him, begging him to fuck you.

“H-hands and knees, schricchio.” He told you, the usual Papa jumping out for a moment as his voice was that sweet, soft timbre that you heard when he comforted you.

You, his obedient hole, did as asked, dropping to your hands and arching your back for him. You were hoping to tempt him into total distraction and give you enough time to make yourself cum. Papa walked behind you, dropped to his back, lying on top of the jeans around your ankles and pulling your hips down so you were sitting on his face and dove into your cunt, licking the sodden folds in front of him and his tongue playing with your sensitive clit. But as soon as his tongue was on you, it vanished, to be quickly replaced by two fingers poking at your entrance, sliding in without a fight and starting to work right away. Your position allowed his gloved fingers to curve upwards and strike the part of you that made you scream.

The squelch of your heat grew louder with his roughness as he started to finger you harder to amplify your cries as much as he could. He enjoyed the thought of other people hearing how good he was making you feel. You could feel yourself teetering on the brink from the way his fingers were moving inside of you and how forcefully he sucked on your clit. Upon the tightness, he pulled his fingers out of you and placed his hands on your ass cheeks, pushing you off of him. “Papa, no!” You howled. “Please!”

Papa laughed and wiggled his way from out under you. “I know your game, schricchio. Non vincerai.”

He got on his knees and began rubbing his clothed cock over your waiting hole, essentially dry humping you on the floor of the arena that he’d just performed in. He was doing the utmost to make you suffer. He wouldn’t do this for very long, given the roughness of his jeans and your sensitive clit, but when it wasn’t painful, it was very enjoyable. Infuriatingly taunting… but enjoyable.

When he decided he was bored of that, you heard the sound of him pulling at the strings that fastened his jeans closed. Papa didn’t wear underwear with these jeans - they were too tight and he said you could see the outline. He punished you for your cheek when you told him that he was slutting himself out for his congregation. Once his cock was free of its confines, he began rubbing it over your sensitive clit once more, earning much louder whines from your throat. At this point, you were tired of the teasing and just wanted to feel him deep inside you, but he knew this and had no intention of relieving you of your pain. Not yet, at least.

“This is hurting me just as much as it hurts you.” Papa told you, wrapping his hands around your hips and using them as leverage to thrust against you. “Papa wants to feel your sloppy cunt around his cock. Papa wants to fuck his toy after a hard day’s work. But his toy decided she wasn’t going to do her job.”

“I’m sorry, Papa. Please!”

“No, bella ragazza. You can do better than that.”

“Papa, I’m sorry for walking away. I want you to use me.”

“Try again.”

“I want you to fuck my tight cunt until I can’t breathe. Use my hole like it’s a toy to compensate for my bad behaviour. I’m yours to play with and use as you want. Please use me, Papa!”

He chuckled darkly. “See? Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Instead of waiting for your cunt to become accustomed to his size, he aligned himself with your hole and thrust all the way to the hilt. “Take it all.” He told you, his voice low and gravelly, laced with arousal that made you tightened around him.

He started working swiftly, snapping his hips against yours quickly and hitting that spot right behind your pussy, which made you scream every time. “Fuck, Papa!” You yelled. “I love it when you use me!”

Your ass jiggled more than usual as you arched your back for him once more and moved your hips to meet his thrusts. He let out a string of expletives in Italian, each one letting you know how much of a whore you were to him and how wicked your pussy felt. You must have been some kind of witch to cast a spell on him so, for he had never loved a cunt more than yours. He had never loved fucking someone more than he did you - how responsive your body was to him. It was beautiful.

Your own hand reached down to tickle your clit trying to move subtly and hoping he wasn’t watching you play with yourself. He was. He was just being evil.

“Schricchio, always so tight for me.” He observed the pussy cream collecting at the base of his cock. “You fucking love this don’t you? You love getting fucked in the middle of an arena, hanging off your Papa’s cock when anyone could come in and take a seat.” Your cunt tightened. “Puttana. You want someone to come in and watch, don’t you? Maybe I - Sathanas - maybe I should have done this on stage when the whole audience was here, hm? Used you in front of thousands.”

You rubbed your clit faster. Obviously you wouldn’t enjoy that in real life, but the thought of him taking you in front of everyone sent a shiver down your spine, and made your cunt tighten around his cock. Perhaps it was the taboo of it that got you off, or just the primal thought of being mounted and claimed in front of everyone. You couldn’t tell. But it definitely did something to you that you couldn’t deny.

“Keep squeezing me like that, schricchio, and I’ll cum too soon.”

A switch turned on a lightbulb moment in your head. You wouldn’t win? Try it. “I don’t know, P-Papa.” You said, trying to feign a more innocent voice through his thrusts that forced out moans. “I think you like that idea more than me. Fuck! I think you want to show everyone just how much you like fucking your toy. I think you want people to watch you claim what’s yours.”

“Cazzo!”

“The world already loves you, Papa. The Church loves you. They’d want to watch you bury yourself deep inside me.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You worked your hand faster. “Cum inside me, Papa. Give it to me. Give me everything, please!” Faster. Almost there.

Knowing what you were doing, Papa pulled your hand away from your clit and pushed your body down so you were completely flush to the floor. A few pumps later, and he was spilling his seed deep inside you, painting your walls white with himself. The noise that escaped him was like a feral animal, all deep growls and grunts as his rough thrusts came to a slow stop, all the while you were pinned to the floor, your orgasm ebbing away with each second that passed with no stimulation.

“Copia, you asshole!” You screeched from below him. You were angry, sure, but mostly frustrated. He would never usually leave you without an orgasm. But he pulled out of you before you insulted him, and had already got to his feet. He said nothing, just laughed at you as he tucked himself back into his jeans and made himself presentable.

“Well, a punishment is a punishment after all, no? What would you learn if I made you cum, hm? Stand up, schricchio. Let’s get you dressed.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ah-ah. Wouldn’t want me to take more orgasms off you, would you?”

You dressed yourself, hating the smug look on his fucked out face.

“I told you you wouldn’t win.”

“Vaffanculo!” You shouted, storming away.

Copia laughed again, knowing how later on tonight you’d be desperately humping against his thigh like a desperate slut begging for an orgasm… and how, after that display, he’d deny you again.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[ghoulette-knell]

Humiliation

Sodo x Fem!Reader

You piss Sodo off, and he has the perfect punishment lined up for you.

🔞MDNI🔞

TW: Public Humiliation; Collaring; Dry Humping; Rough!Dom Sodo; Hate Fucking (if you squint).

Word Count: 8,981

As the newest Ghoulette in the ministry, as well as the newest air-ghoul to join the ministry's social program, 'Ghost,' you faced a lot of setbacks. Such setbacks included having a difficult time making friends. All of the Ghouls already had their little groups (Sodo, Phantom, and Swiss. Or Aurora, Cumulus, and Cirrus), and you just didn't fit anywhere.

You would do anything to fit in, even taking stupid advice from a certain playful Ghoul.

A certain playful Ghoul who went by the name of Phantom.

"Dude, you know what would make everyone laugh?" the guitarist asked while plopping down on the couch beside of you, directly before a ritual with thousands of starstruck fans, "Untune Sodo's guitar right before his 'Respite on the Spitalfields' solo. Everyone loves a good prank."

Your face paled underneath your mask and balaclava, your head shaking side-by-side in clear dislike, "Heck no, Phantom! That sounds like a terrible idea! Pranking someone like Rain is one thing, but Sodo? You know he has a temper!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to help you," Phantom commented with a little shrug, his spade-tipped tail flicking in a nonchalant manner, "If you're ever wondering why no one in the ministry even blinks in your direction, it's because you don't know how to have fun."

You should've not let the Ghoul's words bother you, but you simply couldn't help it. The lack of attention that you were getting from your fellow Satanists was beginning to take a toll on you.

You wanted friends.

Badly.

"Seriously? Did you have to do something this stupid to get accepted into the pack?" you mumbled, a little vulnerability beginning to bleed through despite yourself.

Phantom shrugged, his fangs curved into an amused smirk, "I'm not telling you that you have to do it... but yes. I hid Papa's robes right before one of his sermons. Copia was forced to wear his Cardinal robes again... and he punished me severely... but hey, I have friends now.

"Aurora ended up rearranging Swiss' room due to the guidance of Cirrus. We all have to do something risky that'll get a kick out of the others if we wish to be welcomed into this little family."

You had a bad feeling about this. You were not a troublemaker and definitely weren't a prankster. You were a bit shy and timid, especially around Sodo.

He was the pack leader... the only man the fire-ghoul listened to was Copia...

This seemed too risky... but the wish to be accepted was a little stronger than your fears. Sodo was a grown Ghoul, he would get over it eventually, even if it did mean guaranteed punishments.

"Are you positive it'll get the others to like me?" you asked in a meek manner.

The quintessential-ghoul chuckled and wagged his tail enthusiastically, "Trust me, (Y/N), it'll work. I already like you more that you're considering it. Come on. Everyone has to do it."

That decided it. Those simple words leaving Phantom's lips.

'I already like you more that you're considering it.'

Shit.

"Fuck. Okay, I'll do it," you murmured lowly, your head lulling backwards as you fought an intense wave of anxiety, "However, if I get caught, I'm throwing you under the bus."

Phantom t'skd and shook his head, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Just don't forget to do it."

That night came very, very quickly. Perhaps it was because of how nervous you were. Songs seemingly blasted by, until it was time for that dreaded song. Sodo was hyped, per usual, but little did he know that the newest air-ghoul in his pack would ruin everything.

Sodo's solo was an absolute disaster. He played the notes perfectly, of course, but instead of being tuned to the D minor, it was in E major... it sounded outright disgusting.

Sodo's reddened eyes locked on you, and you knew you were done for. How the hell did the fire-ghoul know it was you who tampered with the tuning? How did he know?

You’d pissed the Ghoul off on so many levels, and now you were gonna pay.

The rest of the show went smoothly after one of the stagehands corrected the bad tuning, but that certainly didn't mean you were out from underneath the fire. You were screwed no matter what.

“Why the fuck did you have to publicly humiliate me, whelp!?” Sodo screamed at you while stomping into the Ghouls’ common room after the ritual had ended, “In front of the entirety of our fans! What the fuck is wrong with your head! Do you even think about things, or are you simply that desperate for attention?"

Fear coursed through your veins at the fire-ghoul’s words. It had been a dare… that’s all it was. A promise that you would find acceptance amongst the hard-to-please group.

“Sodo, I’m sorry. It was a dare… just a little prank,” you murmured timidly while keeping your head low, “Phantom told me everyone would accept me if I could prove I had guts. Make them laugh over something stupid like this.”

That seemed to make Sodo even angrier. “Your excuse is that you humiliated me because of a dare!?” He yelled, getting in your face as the air began feeling hotter.

“This is my reputation we’re talking about, (Y/N)! The entire ritual was ruined because of your stupidity!” His tail wrapped around your ankle, tugging you closer.

You stumbled forward as Sodo’s tail, which was as thick as a jungle vine, yanked at your limb. A little gasp left your lips as you wobbled and caught yourself before plummeting to the floor.

“I-I’m sorry, Sodo,” you stammered, actually beginning to grow terrified at Sodo’s reaction, “Phantom told me-“

Sodo interrupted you before you could come up with another excuse.

“Stop giving me excuses, you fool!” Sodo snarled, pinning you against the wall, “And don’t think pinning the blame on Phantom is going to get you out this. I know he probably put you up to it, but you’re the one who did it.”

His arms caged you into place, his body practically pressing against yours. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

You trembled in between Sodo and this wall; your eyes wide with fear, unseen due to your helmet. You felt so small. So stupid. So naïve to think Phantom would actually want to help you.

“I-I’m sorry, Sodo,” you meekly whispered, your words barely audible.

Sodo could practically feel your body quivering against his own, and he almost felt a sense of satisfaction at your submissive state.

With his helmet on, he couldn’t even see your face, but if he had been able to… he would’ve seen the fear in your eyes so clearly. The fire-ghoul could smell it on you, and was it ever intoxicating...

“Sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it, whelp,” Sodo hissed, pushing himself against you more, “I think you’d look good in a leash and chain right now.”

What the fuck kinda punishment was that? What weird shit was Sodo into? Collars and leashes?

Huh. It could be worse, you supposed.

“A leash and chain?” you asked slowly, staring up into Sodo’s face, “You can’t be serious? I’m a Ghoul! That’s beyond…”

You were going to say ‘that’s beyond humiliating,’ but that wouldn’t be the right wording to appeal to Sodo. You had humiliated him… this was his payback.

Sodo chuckled at your response, pushing his weight harder against you and causing you to gasp.

“Oh yes, I am very serious,” Sodo murmured into your ear, “It’d only be fitting considering what you did to my guitar.”

The guitarist chuckled darkly before pulling away from you, giving the both of you some space. “Come on, kit.”

Your spade-tipped tail dipped in between your legs.

You were about to open your mouth to make some more weak excuses to try and weasel yourself out of this demeaning punishment, but that was when the rest of the Ghouls decided to take a convenient trip into the common room... led by Phantom.

The rhythmic guitarist simply smirked as he saw you and Sodo; the fire-ghoul looking legitimately angry, "Heh, good luck, (Y/N)! This is what you get for being an asshole to Sodo!"

"You act like you didn't tell me to do it!" you hissed, your eyes lighting up in hatred as Sodo wrapped a hand around your arm, pulling you back.

"Stand down," the guitarist hissed in your ear, causing Phantom and his accompaniment to chuckle in satisfaction, "You're already in deep enough shit. Keep your mouth shut."

Phantom just smirked, knowing what was going on, before sitting down on the couch. They would all get to witness this once Sodo was done. Every single Ghoul would see... your reputation successfully tarnished.

You followed Sodo, burning with anger. How could Phantom do this to you?

The fire-ghoul basked in your angered silence. Your reaction caused his tail to subtly sway as he paced down the halls, still holding onto your arm hard enough to leave little indentations.

You couldn't focus on anything, which caused a dissociation to lightly haze over your brain. You didn't snap out of it until Sodo stopped in front of a door.

It was his dorm.

Sodo led you into his bedroom, and as soon as the door was closed, he started rummaging in his closet.

“Come here.”

The lead guitarist held out a hand for you, his voice suddenly lower and more commanding, “Don’t even think about arguing with me right now, kit. I know you’re pissed at Phantom, but you got yourself into this mess… with me. And I am going to correct it.”

You sighed and took Sodo’s hand, your own hand shaking in fear. This fucking sucked, “I’m gonna beat the shit outta Phantom for this,” you murmured while stepping towards Sodo.

Sodo chuckled lowly, “You’ll have to get in line, first. No one humiliates me in front of thousands of fans and gets away with it. You made me look like a moron!"

His gaze trailed up your body, “And you shouldn’t have done it either. What’d you think would come out of it, whelp? What would you have possibly gained by messing up the most anticipated solo of our fanbase?"

“Phantom promised me friendship amongst the pack. He said I’d get accepted and I’d be able to start making connections in the band. I know you don’t care about my sob story, but acceptance is all I care about,” you murmured, slowly pulling your Ghoul helmet off your face as Sodo motioned for you to do so.

Sodo hummed, taking your mask from your hands and setting it aside. He began slowly looking over your revealed face.

“You’re pretty desperate, aren’t you?” He sneered, his fingers gently tracing over your features, “Acceptance... Pathetic.”

You pulled your balaclava down and stared up at Sodo in annoyance, “It was promised to me! I know it was stupid, but I just want to be friends with everyone! Trust me, I won’t be making that mistake again… I won't trust any of you enough for that bullshit!"

Sodo chuckled, his fingers trailing down to the base of your neck. His hands remained gentle as he continued studying your face.

“Acceptance does sound nice, doesn’t it? Too bad that’s not how the pack works, whelp.”

His fingers tugged at the top of your collared shirt, as if silently telling you to take it off.

Your eye twitched as a wave of anxiety hit your stomach. On top of collaring you, he wants you to take your shirt off? Great…

You huffed and slowly pulled your uniform off your body, your bra as dark as the night in comparison to your fair skin.

Sodo chuckled again, his eyes trailing slowly down your now exposed torso. He couldn’t help but appreciate the view. You’re a very beautiful Ghoulette...

“Oh there’s a good girl,” he hummed, gently guiding you backwards until your legs hit the edge of his bed. “Sit down, (Y/N), and don’t move.”

You mumbled incoherently while plopping down on the bed; your face flushing as Sodo took you in like a horse drinking water. It was embarrassing. You didn’t like being looked at like this.

Sodo chuckled at your embarrassment. That look was just too cute. He took in the sight of your pretty blushing face before making his way over to the closet, where he pulled out a small bag.

He sat down next to you on the bed, opening the bag to pull out a collar. It was thin, with a nice silver buckle; black as night. There was also a matching leash.

“You’re not seriously going to put that on me right?” you grumbled while staring at the collar, leash… and a wired muzzle??? That was too much…

Sodo’s eyes narrowed, “Are you seriously questioning me?” he shot back. “Yes, I am going to strap every single one of these pieces onto you.”

He leaned a bit closer to you, his voice lowing into a dark growl, “And if you try to complain, I’ll add more to the pile. Understand, whelp?”

An unknown sensation wracked your stomach. You felt… a bit sick. Regretful… big time regretful.

Why did you have to listen to Phantom?

Now you were gonna get walked around like a fuckin’ mutt... in front of everyone in the ministry.

“Understood,” you grumbled, your eyes dark as you stared up at Sodo.

A grin stretched across Sodo’s face. “Good girl,” he hummed, reaching for the collar and sliding the leather around your neck.

He made sure the fit was just perfect and not loose at all. He’d definitely be yanking you around a lot, and he wanted to make sure the collar didn’t slip off your throat.

You slammed your eyes shut as Sodo strapped the collar around your neck. It was a bit tight, but you could still breathe okay.

Next, he reached for the wired muzzle, taking your chin in his hand to keep you still as he began strapping it to your head.

The muzzle was uncomfortable. It dug into your skin painfully, and it was actually pretty heavy. This was somehow the worst part of it all. The leash and collar was one thing, but the muzzle was just demeaning. Your fangs… held back by wire.

Sodo chuckled darkly at your obvious discomfort. He loved seeing you like this, and he was glad his idea to force you to wear these kinds of things came to mind.

He took a few moments to admire his handiwork before standing up. He held the leash in his hand, giving it a sharp tug for you to stand up.

You grumbled and quickly got to your feet. Goosebumps flowed over your exposed torso due to the cold air in Sodo’s room.

“I know you ain’t about to take me around this ministry lookin’ like this,” you grumbled, wrapping your hand around the leash as you looked up at Sodo, “That’s dehumanizing.”

You weren’t a human, but ‘deghoulizing’ isn’t a word…

Sodo rolled his eyes, “I’m fully aware of that, whelp,” he replied. “That’s the point. You humiliated me in front of a sold-out stadium of our fans. I’m humiliating you in front of the rest of the pack. It’s payback.”

He gave the leash a sharp tug, forcing you to stumble forward and right into him; a growl leaving your throat.

“Now come on. Let’s go for a little walk.”

Your fangs poked out from your lips. The urge to punch Sodo in the throat was so strong. The urge to punch Phantom in the throat was even stronger.

You walked behind Sodo, the humiliation burning you up like a thousand suns as the two of you approached the Ghoul common room. You could hear their voices inside.

When Sodo walked into the common room again, holding your leash, all the Ghouls looked up at the pair of you. It was quite the sight.

All of them looked slightly amused at your current state, but they also looked a little taken aback. None of them spoke up, but Phantom’s eyes were practically glowing.

“Well, Sodo,” he spoke up, his voice almost cheerful. “I see you have (Y/N) on a leash, hm? Perfect punishment for what she’s done.”

“It’s fuckin’ your fault!” you screamed angrily while stepping forward and staring at Phantom, “If you would’ve have lied to me, this wouldn’t be happening! You’re cruel! Absolutely cruel!”

Phantom couldn’t help but smirk, clearly amused by your outburst. The other Ghouls chuckled lightly at your response.

Sodo, on the other hand, didn’t look happy with your retort. He tugged on the leash, forcing you to stumble back and fall against his chest.

“If you keep speaking out, I’ll add a ball gag to this list,” he warned. “You’re already wearing a muzzle, don’t push it.”

Your face contorted with dislike at Sodo’s threat. You nodded slowly and dipped your head, feeling a bit nauseous. You fucking hated the two guitarists. After all of this was over, you'd definitely be reporting them to Papa Copia, or even Sister Imperator. Who knows if they'd even care, though.

“Sorry, Phantom,” you grumbled lowly, obviously trying to hold back an angry outburst.

Phantom chuckled and gave you a dark smirk, clearly enjoying your punishment. This was all too sweet.

Sodo tugged at the leash again, “Apologize to me, too. Don’t forget who’s holding your leash right now.”

You gasped as Sodo pulled at your collar, your eye twitching.

“I’m sorry, Sodo,” you continued through clenched teeth, your arms wrapping around your bare chest in clear dislike of everything happening.

Sodo chuckled and gave you a condescending pat on the head for the apology.

“Good girl,” he hummed, keeping you close to his side as he sat back down in his seat. “I think we’ll spend a good chunk of time here, so make yourself comfortable.”

He gave a light tug on the leash, forcing you to sit down on the floor.

You stumbled to your knees, wincing as they came into contact with the hardwood floor below. Sodo was standing directly in front of you; your eyes glued to his boots as you stayed silent.

With you on the floor now, Sodo took the opportunity to give the leash a few light tugs, silently commanding you to move forward a bit more.

The other Ghouls took note of this, watching with slight interest. Phantom looked the most intrigued by your current state; his tail lashing around in focused interest.

Sodo continued to tug you forward until you were situated right in between his legs. He let out a low hum as he patted his thigh, indicating he wanted you to lean against him.

“Sodo, come on. This has gone too far,” you grumbled, your face directly in between his legs, “I’ve learned my lesson. Nothing like what happened at the ritual will ever happen again. Please just take the leash off… this is so embarrassing."

Sodo chuckled, his fingers gently weaving into your hair as he began playing with it.

“Oh, I know this is an embarrassing position, whelp,” the guitarist said, “But the lesson needs to sink into your pretty skull. I need to make sure you’ll remember not to do anything stupid ever again.”

The fire-ghoul gave the leash a harder tug this time, “Now sit up against my leg.”

You wheezed, the tight collar tugging at your throat. With no other option in sight, you groaned and leaned your head onto Sodo’s thigh, your eyes locked on his face. They were burning with clear dislike at this situation.

You wanted to punch that smug look right of the lead guitarist's face.

Sodo chuckled at your look of clear anger and distaste. Your face was so cute when you were mad, and Sodo couldn’t help but taunt you.

Suddenly, his boot gently knocked against your side. He clearly wanted you to stretch out more, to lie your torso against his leg more.

You gasped and quickly adjusted your positioning to the way Sodo wanted it. Your breathing was uneven as you heard the Ghoulettes giggle; your eye twitching once again.

Sodo chuckled as he saw you obeying so easily. The Ghouls had begun watching you intently, clearly enjoying your current state. A lot of them were giggling, seeing you look so meek and pathetic.

As for Sodo, he gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you practically held against him. He was definitely taking advantage of this situation.

"Stop fuckin' egging them on," you hissed as Sodo's hand lightly caressed your chest, his slim finger flicking against your hardened left nipple through your bra in a teasing gesture.

Sodo chuckled once more, a wicked gleam in his eye. He gently tightened his grip on your shoulder when he heard your little comment.

“Keep that mouth shut, or I really will silence you.”

He ran his fingers through your hair. All of the other Ghouls snickered and chuckled at the little exchange, enjoying the show that was unfolding before them.

You grumbled, your eyes lazily staring up at Sodo.

It felt like hours had passed, when in reality, you'd only been leaning against the guitarist for a little over 30 minutes. The rest of the Ghouls eventually got bored of this spectacle and started playing video games, or even left to their dens to sleep for the night.

You were drifting to sleep at this point; your legs completely numb from being in this position for so long.

Considering circumstances, Sodo's thigh wasn't a half-bad pillow.

Sodo had finally taken notice of your heavy eyes and dazed look, and it only took a few moments for him to realize that you were getting tired.

The Ghoul hummed, gently running his fingers over your shoulder once more.

“You look tired,” he said, quietly so the other Ghouls wouldn’t hear.

“Mhm,” you hummed lightly, slowly opening your eyes, which were glazed over with sleepiness, “A bit…”

Sodo chuckled. You looked absolutely adorable when you were tired like this. He gently patted the top of your head, like how he would pet an animal.

“I think I’ve made my point by now,” he mumbled so only you could hear. “I’m gonna take you back to my den. Get you all cleaned up. Can you get up?”

“Honestly… I can’t feel my legs,” you softly replied while carefully shifting, falling onto your ass off your knees. You grabbed onto Sodo’s thighs and slowly pushed yourself to your feet. Pins and needles. Fuckin’ ow!

“Yeah, I can walk,” you mumbled, shaking your legs slightly to try and stimulate blood flow and get rid of that overwhelming sensation of blood loss.

Sodo chuckled and grabbed your arm to hold you up, seeing you immediately stumble. He knew you weren’t quite ready to walk just yet.

“No you can’t,” the fire-ghoul teased as he kept a firm grip on your arm, “Your legs are just a little numb from sitting like that for so long. You’ll need to lean on me, (Y/N).”

“No thanks,” you mumbled while staring at his hand that was holding onto your arm, “I’d rather not after the night you just put me through. My reputation in this band is soiled, Sodo. The last thing I need is your help.”

Sodo huffed, his grip on your arm tightening a bit. “You don’t exactly have a choice either way,” he shot back, “You’re not going to be able to make it all the way back to my room without my assistance-- or anywhere at that. You can either lean on me, or I can make you crawl again. Your choice, darlin'.”

You grumbled and hesitantly fell into his side, allowing him to lead you as you leaned onto him, “Anything to avoid crawling like a damn dog.”

Sodo chuckled at your grumble as he started walking, easily guiding you down the corridor towards his room. He made sure to keep a firm hold on you, not that the Ghoul really needed to.

It took little time to get back to his room and he quickly closed the door behind the two of you. Sodo gently pushed you over to the bed, giving you a silent indicator to sit down.

You sat down and flopped backwards onto the bed. After doing a whole hour-and-a-half ritual, then staying up until 3am for your punishment… you were quite exhausted.

“Please tell me this bullshit is over with, Sodo. I just want to sleep,” you yawned loudly.

Sodo hummed, slowly approaching you as you laid back on the bed. He sat down next to you, his eyes tracing over your body again.

“Mmm… I’m not sure if it’s over just yet,” he replied, his fingers sliding up your legs. “Maybe I’ll keep that pretty new collar on you tonight.”

You groaned and looked up at him as his fingers teased your pants, not expecting that. So… he really was turned on by your humiliation. Interesting…

Sodo denied it earlier while he was collaring me to begin with... so this was some kind of dirty little secret of his.

“Really?” you asked in legitimate surprise.

Sodo chuckled as his hands continued to gently slide up and down your legs. “Oh, sweetheart,” he hummed, “The entire pack saw you. You in a collar, on your knees, right in between my legs… of course I enjoyed it. You looked gorgeous like that.”

You huffed, your face flushing. You didn’t want to enjoy that comment, but you couldn’t help it. The sight of you tonight was driving Sodo crazy, yet he hid it so well…

“Is that how you treat everyone you want to fuck?” you asked slowly, grabbing the muzzle and slipping it off your face. There were red lines highlighting where the muzzle was digging into your face for quite a long period of time.

Sodo chuckled, his hands gently sliding up higher to rest on your hips. He began slowly pulling your body closer to him, causing you to slide up against his own.

“Everyone I want to own,” the lead guitarist corrected, “And I definitely own you tonight, princess. No arguments.”

You huffed through your nose. This didn’t feel like a punishment anymore, yet you still had your sassy and annoyed demeanour due to what the guitarist had put you through tonight.

However, as Sodo’s body slid up against yours as he pulled you closer, you couldn’t stifle the gasp.

“No arguments here,” you mumbled softly, almost timidly.

Sodo’s chuckle grew deeper as he continued to pull your body against his, making sure his own was pressed tightly to yours. He could feel the heat of your body through your clothes, as well as from your exposed breasts, which were hardening against your bra once against from the contact.

It made something in Sodo's chest stir.

The Ghoul leaned a little closer, his lips gently brushing against your ear. “Are you too tired to keep going, princess? Are you going to chicken out on me, right before I get exactly what I want?"

“Nah,” you shivered, your eyes locking on Sodo’s face, “Not too tired for one round. I doubt I’d be able to go on for as long as you want, though. I am a bit sleepy.”

Sodo chuckled and gently nipped your earlobe. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it quick then, hm?”

He leaned back a bit to look at you. “Arms up,” he instructed, already slipping his fingers under the bottom of your bra.

You slowly raised your arms to the sky, Sodo easily slipping your bra over your arms and tossing it somewhere in his room. You grabbed onto his shoulders lightly as you straddled his lap; a tired, yet intrigued look in your eyes.

Sodo hummed as you straddled his lap, his hands reaching out to lightly grip your bare hips. The fire-ghoul could feel the heat from your body on his legs, and it began to send a wave of slight excitement through him.

The guitarist leaned forward to place a trail of kisses up your neck, occasionally stopping to suck on your skin and leave a mark behind.

You gasped slowly, your eyes fluttering shut as Sodo left little love marks on your pale skin. Despite how much you wanted to hurt Sodo tonight, this made it worth it… almost...

“I’m still mad at you,” you mumbled, digging your claws into Sodo’s shoulders as you began to slightly swivel your hips.

Sodo chuckled against your neck as he continued to leave marks on your pale skin. He had no doubt that by tomorrow, you were going to be covered in them. At least he had you as his own for the time being.

The guitarist gripped your hips a bit harder as you began to rock against him, a low hum of approval escaping his throat.

“I know you’re still mad, princess,” Sodo responded, “You’ll get over it by morning.”

“Fuck that,” you grumbled while wrapping your arms around Sodo’s torso, pushing his face into your breasts, “You’re gonna have to do a lot to make me get over what happened. I’m so pissed, Sodo.”

Sodo chuckled against your chest as he nuzzled into your flesh. He gently nipped and bit at your skin, his hands beginning to guide your hips against his own. Feeling your warmth on him was already clouding his mind to some degree.

“Maybe I’ll have to buy your forgiveness, hmph?” he teased, “Get you something shiny.”

You laughed a little bit, your hands wrapping around your belt and quickly discarding it; laying it on the mattress beside Sodo's leg, “I like that idea. How about you buy yourself a shiny new collar and I can walk you around like a dog when you piss me off.”

Sodo’s breath shuddered as he felt you remove your belt, the sound of the metal clicking against his bed causing his skin to prickle. However, he wasn’t exactly pleased with your smartassed reply.

He pulled away from your chest, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense look. The guitarist suddenly shifted, forcefully flipping you onto your stomach and pinning you beneath him. The bed let out a slight creak.

“Don’t be a smartass,” the Ghoul mumbled as he began working at the button of your jeans; his arms wrapped around your hips so he could reach it. “You’re not the one in control here, princess.”

You groaned lightly, moving upwards so you were flush against Sodo’s chest as he swiftly and expertly undid your pants.

“You know I can’t help but be a smartass, Sodo. I like seeing you mad.”

This was a new side of you. Before tonight, you'd always been quiet and timid; afraid of your new Ghoul accompaniment. Sodo’s words and actions have changed you a bit.

Sodo chuckled. You being a smartass was one of the qualities he found both attractive and annoying about you. It both turned him on and gave him a headache; it just depended on what you decided to be a smartass about.

He quickly slipped your jeans off your legs, now only leaving you in your undergarments. The fire-ghoul shifted so he could sit himself in between your legs, his own pressed against yours.

“That habit of yours is going to get you into trouble someday,” Sodo muttered.

You softly grabbed Sodo’s thighs as he slotted himself between your legs; his knees pressing into the mattress below. You rubbed your thumbs on his clothed limbs, “I think tonight was enough trouble for a lifetime, Sodo.”

Sodo chuckled as he felt your hands gently rubbing his thighs. “Oh, I don’t know about that, hmph. I think there’s still more trouble I can get you into… at least once tonight.”

He gently lowered himself down on top of you, the lead guitarist's chest pressing against your back as he settled on top of you. He leaned his head down and began gently biting and sucking on your neck, as he began to roll his hips into yours.

The air was sucked back into your lungs as Sodo began to rock his hips into yours. Dry humping. Teasing you.

Asshole.

You gasped as you felt Sodo yank on that Lucifer-forsaken leash, suddenly reminding you that the collar was still around your neck.

“No teasing!” you snapped as you felt his hardening length rub against your panties, a blush on your face.

Sodo chuckled, his lips still against your neck, as he felt you gasp. “Mmm… are you trying to give me orders now, princess?” he hummed.

He gave the leash another sharp tug, causing the collar to dig into your neck. At the same time, he also grinded his hips right back into yours, pressing his clothed length right against you.

“I don’t think I’ve given you that power, hm?”

You gasped, your head pulling backwards as your back arched. You could feel Sodo’s length throbbing against his tightened jeans; the Ghoul's hands multitasking between tugging at your leash and pushing his pants down.

“I’ve already had enough punishments tonight, Sodo,” you whined while craning your head backwards so you could lock eyes with the Ghoul, “I deserve my reward!”

Sodo chuckled. He loved the way you were whining for him. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he found it cute. And the fire-ghoul wouldn’t admit that he was a sucker for those pretty eyes of yours, even before the two of you got this close.

He let go of the leash, though the guitarist made sure to keep it taut, and began working at his pants. “I suppose you do deserve a reward, princess,” he teased, “You were so well-behaved in front of the pack tonight.”

You hissed in annoyance as Sodo brought that up again. Anger festered in your stomach once again, but you kept your comments to yourself. You were this close to getting pounded and you didn’t want to ruin it by snapping at Sodo again.

“Yeah, whatever you say. I just want your dick. That’ll make it up to me,” you mumbled while side-eyeing the fire-ghoul, watching him discard his pants.

Sodo chuckled at your snarky response. You really knew how to get the better of him sometimes.

The guitarist lowered his body again, now only leaving his boxer briefs on as he settled back on top of you. “Is that right, huh?” he teased, “Just what I thought.”

You grumbled and lightly bucked your hips backwards to rub against Sodo as he settled back down, “Don’t act like you don’t want to sink inside of me, you jerk. Just do it and make both of our nights better.”

Sodo groaned as he felt you buck your hips back against him. The feeling of your skin against his still-clothed cock was beginning to become too much for him. You were right. He did just want to sink into that tight pussy of yours... make you his.

“You really are a smartass,” he muttered, “Fine. I’ll give you what you want, (Y/N), but don’t expect things to be gentle.”

At that, a small, sharp moan escaped as you felt a pair of fingers slip underneath the material of your underwear. A pair of cold Sodo’s fingers, that now gently dipped between your legs.

Your eyes squeezed shut as those slim fingers began to dip inside. Sodo was finally giving you some stimulation besides dry humping… thank Lucifer for that. You felt like you were going to die if he didn’t touch you.

“S-Sodo,” you whispered in pleasure while spreading your legs further apart, “Nnmghn… s-shit…”

Sodo continued to rub his fingers gently between your legs, a sly smile gracing his features as he watched you spreading them. He was pleased to hear you moaning for him again.

The guitarist lightly scissored apart your folds with his pointer and middle fingers; his digits immediately getting soaked.

“Are you enjoying yourself, princess?” he teased, “Is this what you want?”

“Your fingers can only do so much for me. You know what I want,” you grumbled, beginning to challenge Sodo as well as you could considering the position you were in beneath him.

Sodo chuckled. You were really testing his patience, hm? You were so incredibly desperate, but too proud to actually admit it. How cute.

The Ghoul leaned down close to your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Say it,” he lowly commanded, “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

A growl rumbled in your chest; your cheeks flushing from embarrassment. Sodo just wasn’t going to quit with this humiliation high he’s been on tonight.

“Fuck, Sodo. I don’t wanna say it,” you mumbled bashfully, a moan leaving your lips as his skilled fingers rolled over your clit, causing your eyes to bulge.

Sodo chuckled, the laugh being as smooth as silk, as he noticed your cheeks, and even ears, turning a deeper shade of red. He loved seeing your pride slowly chip away, and you slowly become more submissive for him.

“That’s not what I told you to do, (Y/N),” he reminded you while clicking his tongue in disappointment, “Come on. Be a good girl and use your words, hm?”

You sunk your fangs into Sodo’s pillow, immediately feeling feathers tickle over your tongue as you punctured it. Asshole… such an asshole!

“I want your dick, Sodo!” you shouted while grabbing at his wrist; his hand deep in my panties, “I want it now! There! I said it! Give me your dick!”

A pleased hum escaped Sodo’s throat as he finally heard the words he’d been wanting to hear. It was satisfying to hear you, especially after being such a brat all night, finally break down and ask for it.

He pulled away his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and giving them a quick lick to clean them off. The lead guitarist pulled himself off of you, moving to get off the bed.

“Stay put, (Y/N),” he commanded before heading over to the dresser. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you could hear shuffling. After a few moments, he finally returned to his position on top of you.

He leaned down and nipped your ear before speaking again, “You’re going to keep your legs spread for me, right?”

You squealed as you felt those fangs graze your skin and those dirty words leave Sodo’s lips. My pride was beginning to fizzle away into nothingness; your dignity slipping away.

“Yeah, definitely,” you mewled while letting the fire-ghoul slot in between your legs again.

Sodo chuckled as he got right back to where he had been a few moments ago, his lips against your ear. “That’s a good girl,” he praised, “You’re being so well-behaved now.”

You felt a hand reach down and grab the waistline of your panties, giving them a tug. “Lift up.”

You arched your back again and adjusted the weight on your knees to allow Sodo to swiftly pull your soaking panties from your lower half. You felt cold as soon as the garments were removed… that’s how wet you were.

Sodo felt a hint of a shiver run down his spine as he realized how wet you were. The Ghoul didn’t expect you to be that turned on and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the thought that he was the cause of that. Sodo's fingers were the cause of that. Sodo's diabolical words were the cause of that.

That fucking collar and leash were the cause of that.

He quickly shifted, moving so his knees were right between your legs. There was a sudden shift in weight as Sodo leaned over you and began reaching for something.

You heard a small click, followed by faint squirting sounds. You were able to look back to see that Sodo was holding a familiar-looking bottle of lubrication. He had a sly smile on his face as he began to pour a good amount onto his fingers; pumping his cock in his hand.

“What? Am I not wet enough or something?” you asked while watching that smug smirk on Sodo’s face, “I promise you’ll have no trouble.”

Sodo chuckled. The amount of sass you still had was astounding. “No, princess, you’re plenty wet. It’s just nice to be thorough, hm?”

The lead guitarist pumped his dick a few more times to spread the lotion, feeling your eyes on him the whole time. He then tossed the bottle off to the side, not caring where it landed.

You nodded in agreement, shifting your head back to the forward position as Sodo prepared himself. That was sweet… he was dead set on making sure you didn’t have any pain throughout any of this. You doubted you would’ve anyway, but the thought was nice.

“Yeah, it is nice to be thorough. Thanks,” you mumbled with a small nod; appreciation evident in your tone.

Sodo smiled down at you, his expression seeming almost soft for a moment. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something in his chest. Was it affection? Well, he could worry about that another time.

The fire-ghoul lowered himself a bit, his chest pressing up against your back, and he settled one arm on either side of your head, caging you in. Then, he gently placed a kiss against your cheek. “You’re welcome, princess,” he mumbled.

Sodo intertwined his fingers with your collar, forgetting the leash for a moment.

The feeling of his warm lips against your skin made your heart pound just a little harder than usual. He was acting so tender all of a sudden. Was this what it’s like to be with a fire ghoul? From absolutely unbearable to unexpectedly loving? Maybe this was just what it was like to hookup with Sodo.

You didn’t have time to dwell on it for long though as you felt Sodo press his chest into your back a bit harder.

You grunted in pleasure as you felt Sodo slowly slip inside. The stretch was immaculate… absolutely perfect. Sodo was a smaller Ghoul, unlike Mountain or Swiss, so his dick wasn’t going to hurt you too badly, but it also wasn’t going to leave you wanting more.

It was perfect in your humble opinion.

“A-Ah, yeah,” you whispered, arching your back into the Ghoul’s hips, “There you go…”

Sodo grunted and dug his head into the crook of your neck. He wanted to give you a chance to adjust before he started really going. Judging by how you were pressing back into him and the sounds leaving your mouth, you were enjoying himself. He took that as a sign to continue.

He quickly began rolling his hips, slowly, into yours, his breaths leaving his mouth in gentle bursts.

As Sodo rolled his hips into yours, you put all of your weight into your arms; your elbows bent to absorb the thrusts. It was too soon for you to get forced face-first into the mattress.

You also didn't want to give the fire-ghoul that satisfaction of fucking you blind. It hadn't even been a minute since he began fucking you. Nah, that would come later.

At every thrust, your body shook. Although Sodo was small, he was strong.

You nibbled your bottom lip; your eyes squeezed shut as Sodo finally began delivering you what you wanted. Despite how much you wanted to hide your pleasure, delicious moans began slipping from your lips.

Sodo hummed as he picked up the pace. He noticed how your weight was all being held up by your arms and it was beginning to get harder for you. The guitarist wasn’t exactly keen on you tiring yourself out so soon, so he figured he needed to get some more leverage on you.

Sodo suddenly grabbed the leash as it had been mostly lying forgotten and gave it a firm jerk.

You gasped, your head getting pulled backwards. Sodo began to angle his thrusts, using that leash as leverage. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head; a guttural moan slipping from your lips.

“Y-Yes… oh… fuck!” you screamed, the words coming out in time with Sodo’s thrusts. You were certain that the other Ghouls would be able to hear your screams, as well as skin slapping against skin through the thin walls, but you couldn't give less of a fuck.

You truly felt fantastic in this moment, tangled up in Sodo's arms, getting railed into the next dimension.

This angle was absolutely perfect. Sodo was slamming right into your g-spot, making the pleasure astronomical.

Sodo groaned, a slight smirk on his face as your words echoed through the small room. Such disgusting, vulgar language for such a new Ghoulette…

But, for the time being, he’d let it slide. At least you weren’t being a smartass about it. Usually whenever you shouted swears like this, it was because you were angry… especially at Sodo.

You were shy of course, but there had been moments since you were summoned that you'd lost your shit. These words weren't completely unorthodox when leaving your lips, but within context, these ones were.

“Does it feel good, princess? Do I get a ‘thank you’ for this?” he teased between heavy, laboured breaths; his dick sliding in and out of you like a piston.

Your arms wrapped around your torso as Sodo yanked at that leash again, practically pulling you from your stomach on that mattress and onto your knees. Your breasts bounced gorgeously, causing the lead guitarist's eyes to bulge.

“You’re… such… an asshole!” you huffed, drool dribbling down your lips and dotting over your bouncing breasts, “I a-ain’t gonna… thank you!”

Sodo chuckled at that. Even in a position like this, you were still as bratty as ever. He figured he should still try, at least a little. And a little punishment might be necessary as well.

The Ghoul suddenly halted the movement of his hips; a low groan leaving his lips as he did. “You really aren’t going to thank me?” he asked, “Not even after all of this?”

An annoyed moan left your lips as you craned your neck; locking eyes with the fire-ghoul. Anger was in your face as you wiped the drool off your lips with the back of your hand, “Sodo, this is a new low, even for you.”

Sodo couldn’t help but chuckle again as he saw the annoyed look on your face. “Hey, I’m just teaching you some manners, sweetheart,” he retorted, “If you want me to continue, you’ll say please and thank you. That’s it. That's all I need to hear."

You rubbed your eyes; fighting the urge to just push Sodo onto his back and ride him until you were satisfied. The last thing you needed was another punishment from the guitarist.

Swallowing your pride, you scoffed and nodded, a hint of anger still present in your tone, “Thank you for fucking me, Sodo. Please continue.”

Sodo chuckled as he heard that annoyed tone in your voice but he was satisfied seeing you swallow your pride. He also felt a twinge in his chest at this. Was he enjoying this new side of you? Was he actually enjoying you?

“Atta girl,” he said, a bit of a smirk still on his face, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The fire-ghoul slowly started rolling his hips again, but instead of being rough and quick, he was trying to be gentle. He released the tension on the leash and lowered his body down on top of yours, caging you in between his arms.

You let your anger melt away as soon as Sodo began to move again. These long, deep thrusts were much more sensual than the rapid movements the fire-ghoul was doing before. You could feel every inch of Sodo sliding in and out... in and out... in and out...

It was like heaven... ironic for a demon from Hell to say it, but yes. This was like heaven.

You moved in time with the guitarist, your eyes lightly squeezed shut. The two of you moaned together in sync; fully enjoying each other’s bodies to the fullest.

Sodo breathed in through his nose and planted his face into the crook of your neck. He had one arm supporting himself while the other had found its way to your hip; wrapping it around to deepen his thrusts.

A strangled moan forced its way through your lips; your pussy tightening around Sodo's leaking cock. This forced another moan to leave the guitarist.

He was enjoying this so much, the way your bodies were moving together, the sounds you were making, the way you tasted on his tongue as he lazily licked up your neck... your sweat getting lapped up. This was just incredible.

Sodo suddenly found himself speaking without thinking. “You feel so good,” he said between breaths.

You carefully craned your neck as the Ghoul lapped and nibbled at it; capturing Sodo’s lips with yours. This was the first time the two of you had shared an authentic kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, your hand coming up to cup the Ghoul’s cheek as you continued to move. Sodo’s sweet talk was making your stomach do all sorts of flips and leaps. You loved this side of Sodo… he had shed that asshole side that he showed everyone. He was actually enjoyable right now.

Sodo’s breath hitched as he felt your hand on his face. In all the time that he knew you, you two had never kissed before. And this tender moment, it just came out of nowhere.

And yet, he didn’t pull away. He leaned into the kiss, his tongue gently swiping your lips as he felt his stomach swirling with a new feeling.

Was he feeling something for you?

Sodo was hitting all of the right spots within you. Your eyes were tightly shut as you lovingly-made out with Sodo; his cock doing amazing things to your body. You had been with tons of partners before, but none compared to this moment…

“G-Gah,” you hissed out, biting onto Sodo’s bottom lip as you felt pressure beginning to skyrocket in your abdomen.

Sodo groaned as he felt your teeth against his skin. Having you bite and kiss on his lips just made him want to pull you closer to him.

He continued his steady, deep thrusts, wanting more of that reaction you were making to him. Seeing you like this, he had a nagging thought in the back of his mind.

He didn’t want to share you with anyone else.

A little scream left your lips, your fangs colliding against Sodo's for a moment as you came. You shuddered around Sodo’s length, your arms giving out as you flopped down onto the mattress.

Tears winked in your eyes, wave-after-wave of moans leaving your mouth. You were simply overstimulated from the pleasure; the sensation eating you alive.

Sodo winced at the painful feeling of his fangs striking yours but it was quickly replaced by pleasure as he felt the overwhelming sensations through his body alongside you.

“F-Fuck,” he groaned, pulling his face away from yours, “Did you—“

He quickly realized that was a dumb question. After seeing your body shake so much and hearing those lovely sounds leaving your mouth, he knew exactly what had happened.

The guitarist was starting to get a bit winded anyway, so he was fine with slowing down a bit. Sodo wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest.

You were absolutely star struck right now as Sodo chased his own release, rutting into you like a toy. He was close, you could tell.

Your head pulled backwards and you sucked lightly on his earlobe. That was all you could muster. Your muscles were stiff from your orgasm, and the fact that Sodo was still going... great Lucifer below...

Sodo’s breaths were shaky and heavy as he felt your lips against his ear, your teeth lightly scraping his skin.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around you and dug his nails into your stomach, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“W-Where do you want it?” the Ghoul panted into your skin.

“Nngh… w-wherever you want. I-I don’t care,” you groaned out while capturing his lips in yours again. If Sodo wanted to cum inside of you, then so be it. That wouldn’t upset you one bit.

Sodo groaned as he once again found himself pulled into a kiss. He never expected you to be so tender and affectionate, but it was a pleasant surprise.

He slowly brought a hand up to your jaw, holding you closely as he felt the pressure in his abdomen building. “I-Inside,” he breathed, the guitarist's voice cracking slightly.

You bit on his lip again, nodding as you heard the guitarist’s words. That was fine… and at least Sodo was respectful and asked first before just doing it.

Your arms reached up shakily and intertwined with Sodo’s fingers, which were pressed deeply into your stomach; holding you as if you were all that mattered in this world. You moved in sync with him again, yet less enthusiastically considering how exhausted you were.

Sodo felt like he was losing his mind with you. This was an incredible feeling, being so close with someone. And with you, the Ghoulette that he pretended to hate so much to everyone around the Ministry.

He felt his breaths coming out in heavy, shaky bursts as he squeezed your hands and held you closer to him. That pressure the fire-ghoul was feeling before…

And then, it happened.

It was like a volcano. You knew the second the Ghoul hit his peak. Another strangled moan left your lips as he finally let go; filling you up to the brim.

Your head hung low, the only reason you weren't back to being face-first into the mattress was because of Sodo’s strong arms holding you in place.

You sputtered and squeezed his arms, your eyes fluttering shut. Drool ran disgustingly down your lips, but you couldn't give less of a fuck.

As Sodo finished filling you up, he gently laid you down on the bed as his own body collapsed next to you. His breaths were deep and heavy as he desperately tried to catch his breath. That was one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

He gently wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close against his chest, his face buried into your hair.

“I-I…” you whispered, unable to say anything for a moment… “That…”

“That was good, Sodo… uh, really good.”

Your words came out in gentle phrases, as you were still winded. Your heart hammered in your chest, feeling comparable to what it feels like after running a mile.

Sodo held you tighter as he heard your tired voice utter his name. That was the first time you had ever said it so soft and sweet…

“Yeah… you were great too, (Y/N),” he mumbled as he pulled you closer to his chest, his eyes slowly closing.

You slowly wrapped your hands around the collar and unclasped it; throwing it across the room (likely landing where that bottle of lube ended up).

You nuzzled into his chest; your tail wrapping around Sodo’s leg as you exhaled slowly, your heart rate beginning to even out.

Sodo chuckled tiredly as he felt your tail wrapping around his leg. He also noticed you throwing your collar across the room but he didn’t say anything. This definitely wouldn't be the last time you would see that collar.

The fire-ghoul wrapped his arms more fully around you, pressing his lips against your forehead and slowly shutting his eyes, tiredness washing over him.

And for once, you actually liked being around Sodo. For once… you didn’t want to punch him in the throat…

[gravehags]

hot to go

Pairing: cirrus x f!reader (ghoul bicycle reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: dom cirrus, sweaty sex, strap riding, titty sucking, praise, possessiveness, lil bit of tenderness because i can't help myself

Words: 1,502

Summary: The air conditioning has broken in the den and your room is the hottest - because of course it is.

a/n: this came to me in a horny half-asleep vision and now i can't stop thinking about it, cheers to cirrus' enormous strap

~~~

Hey - you up?

It’s late, near midnight, and you’ve been in bed tossing and turning for hours now. The air conditioning in the den breaking in the middle of a heat wave makes you want to die and for some reason your room has the joy of being the hottest. You didn’t want to bug Cirrus or Cumulus tonight but…you need one of them. For more than one reason.

Yeah. What’s up?

Can I come over? I’m sweating my tits off in here

A couple minutes go by and you finally see the impending text bubble pop up.

Give me 5 and then head my way.

You want to cry with relief as you fling yourself up and out of your damp sheets. Your nightgown clings to you uncomfortably but that won’t be a problem anymore in just a little bit. The thought of curling up next to your own personal ice pack has your shoulders sagging and a chill running up your spine. You putter around sluggishly until you check the time and see that it’s been well over five minutes. The den is quiet as you tiptoe to Cirrus’ door - you knock lightly before opening it and scooting inside. The lighting is dim and when you catch sight of what’s before you you stop dead in your tracks with a gasp. Cirrus is there - splayed out in the middle of her bed wearing nothing but a thin cropped white tank top, a smirk, and the most enormous strap she owns - the one you’re convinced she had custom modeled after Mountain - secured snug on her hips.

“Hey,” she says, low and sultry. All of a sudden your nightgown is not the only thing that feels damp.

“H-hey,” you say, cautiously stepping closer and gesturing to her, “this for me?”

“Mmhmm,” she nods, bringing a hand down to lazily stroke along the cock’s thick ridges, “I know why you’re here, love. But you’ll have to do something for me first. Tit for tat.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you see her sharp eyes narrow in on it.

“Okay,” you say, the ache between your thighs insistent, “I’ll let you have your wicked way with me, I suppose.”

Cirrus chuckles and stretches luxuriantly like a cat.

“Oh, I won’t be doing anything, hon. You want it, you work for it. Now be a good girl and strip and come here.”

With an indignant huff, you peel your nightgown off, leaving yourself bare in the warm room. Cirrus lets out a little purr as you approach the foot of her bed and press your knee into the mattress.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” she says, crooking her finger at you. Obediently you crawl up her body and sit astride her lap, the silicone cock resting heavy against you.

“Closer,” she murmurs, so you scoot up a little further. All you want right now is to collapse against her, letting the chill of her skin seep into yours - but you know she won’t allow that.

“Wanna make sure you’re nice and ready for me, baby,” she says, cocking her head with a smile. “I’ll do you one favor - bring those pretty tits up here and I’ll take care of them for you.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, and you know your eagerness combined with your good manners pleases Cirrus. You slide closer and lean your chest down to her mouth for her to lazily lick a stripe across your right nipple. The sensation combined with the heat of her room and the coolness of her skin makes your hips buck against her and she smiles as she sucks your nipple into her mouth. For several minutes the only sounds in the room are your heavy breathing and her lapping at your breasts. You jolt when she gently closes her jaws on you, fangs biting into your swollen bud.

“Cirrus,” you pant, “n-need you.”

She pulls off you with a pop.

“I know baby,” she coos as you scoot down her body and rock against her strap, “go on then. You know what to do.”

With a thrill in your stomach you sit up on your knees and take the cock in hand, surprised by how wet you are when you press the tip against your entrance. Slowly - you always had to go slowly with this one but the results were well worth it - you lower yourself, shivering at the way it stretches you open. There’s a ridge resting snug against your clit and experimentally you rock against it.

“Such a good girl, I know how much you like this one,” Cirrus murmurs, arms resting above her head. Her breasts press against her shirt, nipples clearly visible through the thin material even in the dim light. The sight makes you hungry.

“Come on, pretty girl. I wanna see you bounce on it.”

Exhaling heavily, you don’t need to be told twice as you raise your hips and ease back down. It takes you a moment to find your rhythm but soon enough you’re bobbing up and down, panting with your head thrown back.

“Fuck, Cir,” you whimper, your cunt clenching around her strap, “feels so good.”

“I know, baby. Pick up the pace now, I want to see those titties bounce. Put your back into it.”

She tilts her head and laughs quietly as you whine but still acquiesce, amused by how eagerly you bend for her. You can barely catch your breath in the suddenly oppressive heat, and your hips and thighs strain and burn. 

“Please, please, please,” you breathe, “please Cirrus.”

“You’re in control here, remember sweetheart? But if you beg prettily enough maybe I’ll be merciful and help you out.”

You know exactly what she wants to hear and you’re more than happy to tell her.

“I’m yours, Cirrus, fuck, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

She’s nodding, unable to keep the arousal and delight from her voice when she speaks again.

“Whose pussy is this, angel?”

“Yours!” you half-shout, “It’s your pussy Cirrus, all yours. I’m all yours.”

“Atta girl,” she growls, and in a swift movement she brings her hands down to your thighs and begins jackhammering into you. You can feel tears pouring down your cheeks as you weep in relief, her cock slamming into you even deeper than you could manage. All of a sudden everything becomes too much - the heat of the room, the coolness of her skin, her cock pounding inside you - and you sob as your cunt spasms wildly around her. She brings your body down to hers, wrapping her arms around you as she continues to fuck you, even after you’ve come. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to come down from your high and for your breathing to even out, but her hands are running cool trails up and down your sweat-slicked back.

“I got you, honey,” Cirrus whispers, as you mouth weakly at her shoulder, “come here, I got you.”

Gently she rotates both your bodies so you’re side by side and she eases the cock out of you. You whimper at the emptiness as she fusses with the buckles of her strap, tossing it aside once free of it. She strips off her shirt and cooing, takes you in her arms and lays your body half on top of hers. When you finally find the energy to speak, your voice is comically hoarse.

“Thank you.”

She chuckles, brushing your damp hair out of your eyes and kissing your forehead.

“You were amazing, hon,” Cirrus murmurs, “watching you come apart never gets old. Thank you for indulging me.”

You chuff a laugh against her skin, your hand drifting to the juncture of Cirrus’ thighs.

“Do you want me to…?”

“No,” Cirrus says, gently pulling your hand away and kissing it, “the show you put on was more than enough for me.”

You smile and nuzzle into her shoulder before taking a deep breath and cringing.

“Unholy fuck, I stink,” you grouse and Cirrus laughs.

“Yeah, you do,” she admits, scratching at your scalp. “Shower?”

“Please,” you groan, lifting yourself off her. She starts to get up and pauses a moment, thoughtfully.

“How come you texted me and not ‘Lus?”

You’re halfway to the bathroom when you turn and face her with a sly smile. Cirrus shakes her head and laughs.

“Am I that predictable?”

“Let’s just say I knew I would be killing two birds with one stone if I came to you at this hour, hmm?”

You’re exhausted but a familiar heat stirs in your belly when you see her prowl towards you, eyes glinting in the low light. 

“Cheeky,” she purrs as she advances on you, “get in that shower and I’ll add a third bird to your kill list.”

She lunges at you and you shriek, darting into the not-so-safe bathroom.

If this is what you get out of it, you might be okay with the air conditioning breaking every once in a while.

[intheghoulden]

hi. cumulus being mean to puppy phantom. uhh sex ensues or whatever

tags?: mean dom, degrading, light pet play, body worship, trans cumulus (tits, clit used for her), trans phantom (no mention of his parts)

Phantom was the residential "good boy" of the pack. Whenever someone wanted something, he was the easiest to get it from; always obedient and compliant. Gentle voices and praise are what he's used to.

What Cumulus is doing to him now is unfamiliar, and he loathes it.

"You're just a pathetic little thing, aren't you?" her voice is condescending and teasing. She's reclined im a chair near her bookshelf, her legs crossed and her mouth tilted down in a slight frown.

"Yes ma'am," Phantom used his sweetest voice in hopes that she'd soften up just a bit but she stayed resilient. His knees ached from his spot on the floor in front of her, but he wouldn't dare move if not told.

She gave a displeased hum before uncrossing her legs and beckoning him forward with a finger.

"Come convince me you're worth my while."

He instantly shifted closer, a hand on each knee, gently pushing them apart. He ducked his head down and locked eyes with her as he pressed light kisses to the inside of her thighs.

He expected some kind of reaction; a hand in his hair, a smile, a moan. But she gave nothing. A whine came from him before he could stop it, causing Cumulus to let out a chuckle laced with judgement.

"Aw, you poor thing. Not getting what you wanted?"

He continued kissing up her thighs, his hands moving up to hold her waist.

His voice was whiny and desperate, "Fuck, you're beautiful."

And finally, at that, Cumulus squirmed. It was barely noticeable, the slightest movement of her hips, but Phantom locked in on it.

"Your tits, your thighs, your clit, your tummy, they're all perfect. I'd do anything to make you feel good, you're my goddess."

He looked up at Cumulus with the prettiest puppy eyes, and she looked back with her cheeks flushed but her face still stern.

A moment of silence lapsed before she sighed and waved her hand flippantly.

"Hurry up, don't waste my time."

[wrathofrats]

Cirrus sitting on cumulus’ thighs sucking on her fingers so she can make her play with herself in front of cirrus with her spit

[miss-multi45]

ghouls and ghoulettes with a ghoul s/o who is DEFINITELY the freakiest mf in the band, even more than swiss an sodo combined. Pretty please with a cherry on top, I love ya❤️

i love you too, pookie. accidentally wrote this with G/N reader. also this is smutty as shit and i made the reader a brat on most of them, come get y'alls food.

swiss

damn..he might have to up his game.

or he'll just sub while you whisper the most back crackalackin praise and degradation in his pointed ears.

rub his tail as well, that'll have him crying for you and repeating cute little pleas of mercy whilst you're overstimming the poor baby <3.

sodo

battle of the freaks.

refuses to sub unless he's reasonably far down the path of overstimulation.

can and will masturbate you until you physically can't cum anymore and he has to clean you up after.

rain

ohohoho.

rain is a soft dom, but if you flip a switch in him he will fuck you until you're a sore and whimpering bundle of cum-filled cuteness.

so you being even freakier than swiss and sodo is a difficult job for him.

but he doesn't mind, he'll coo at you while you're crying for him to please slow down.

phantom

...he's a switch.

and you're mostly the dom, but sometimes when phant is in a bad mood he will not hesitate to put you in your place with spanking and edging.

when you're the dom, he's a whiney, sweaty mess and so sore.

mountain

oh?

mountain gives off such daddy vibes.

if you've been misbehaving because you just want to get dicked down, that's ok.

you'll just be doing jobs around the ministry while having a remote controlled vibrator buried inside you and mountain sat in the common room reading a book and making you cream your pants over and over again.

aether

another switch.

he will gladly explore kinks with you.

but if he's been horny, and you've been bratty..

well, you'll find yourself sat back to chest in his lap with your legs pressed up to your chest while he fingers you in front of a mirror, forcing you watch yourself cum over and over again.

omega

oh god.

he already has to deal with terzo's flirty comments and touches.

now a ghoul? but don't worry, both of them will treat you to a long night of passionate fornication and brat taming.

alpha

awww.

he loves you so much.

he's always wanted a s/o that's even freakier than him and the others, so you're perfect.

having you ride him while your genitals are getting sore and sensitive with the bullet vibrator buzzing away is just so cute and such a fun way to pass the time.

ifrit

fuck yeah.

the sheer horniness between you to is enough to make the Pope resign because even Jesus can't stop it at this point.

there are times where you're both domming, or both subbing, or both edging each other.

aurora

nice.

i mean, swiss is practically her best friend besides phantom and the ghoulettes, so she knows quite a lot of kinks.

she just didn't expect them to feel that good. she didn't know that you fingering her while she squirted felt so overwhelming, and she didn't know using toys on her clit would make her cry so loud that the poor innocent kits were wondering why she was so scared at two in the morning.

cirrus

oh baby, she'll take good care of you.

she isn't that experienced, but she knows her shit.

you can play with her pussy while she tells you how good it feels, and she can use her tongue and fingers to bring you to the edge and over it more times than you can count while you call her 'mommy'.

cumulus

brat taming queen over here.

she shoots you a look that instantly goes down to your sensitive spots whenever you're misbehaving around the other ghouls and ghoulettes.

later, when you both get to your room, she will punish you while spitting degradation at you and making sure you learn your lesson.

mist

she's not too kinky, she pretty much only has a mommy kink, BDSM kink, and a biting kink.

but she gets a shitload more when you came along.

like damn, she didn't even know she liked it when she cuddlefucked you with her strap and gagged you with her fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet while she told you, "what a good little pet you are."

[emeritus-fuckers]

Swiss relationship and NSFW headcanons

Because there's no requests, I'm bored. Also he and Cumulus shared 1st place on that one poll about Ghouls and I already did a post about my queen. - Jez

Swiss is a menace. The kind of boyfriend to run up to you, throw you over his shoulder and run for no apparent reason.

Does that especially often when you're trying to have a conversation.

Laughs when you hit his back, trying to get him to let go. There's no letting go.

There's like... No goal either? He just runs around?

Eventually he gets bored of running, sits down on the ground with you on his lap for a random cuddle session.

If you vape, you two have cute little vape kisses where you blow smoke at each other before kissing. He finds it adorable.

Keeps a mental list of your favorite flavours and buys them to you whenever you want.

Steals your vape just for shits and giggles. Blows it in your face when you realize he stole it.

As I mentioned on my Cumulus post, all Ghouls are biters. Swiss is one of the worse ones because he just bites you whenever he wants, always very deeply and sucks on the bite wound to get a bit of blood.

Swiss has a bit of a blood kink, for your blood especially.

So he bites a lot, especially during sex.

He bites outside of sex, too. But mostly when he's horny.

He's very unpredictable in bed. Able to fit in every role.

You want him to be your dom? He's gonna be a very eager dom, usually going fast and hard.

Want him to be your bottom? He's gonna let you tie him up with a nice red rope, squeezing his juicy man titties (Swiss has great tits and if you don't believe me then you're just wrong).

He definitely wants you to bite him, too. Definitely a big kink for him.

Still nibbles on you for aftercare. He likes when you're all covered in bite marks.

Licks your wounds right after. The Ghouls' saliva soothes the pain.

He's just... Very affectionate with his mouth, if that makes sense.

Biting, licking, kissing, sucking... It's all on the table.

He loves giving you oral, too. He enjoys receiving it, too, but giving feels much better.

He's affectionate in general, kinda touchy.

He's mostly touchy when horny, though.

Hangs out behind you, his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder.

He's very smiley, it usually freaks some people out.

Meeting your family would be absolutely hilarious with him.

[aestheticpearl]

— ‘look at me, look at me, i’m naked.’

characters. cirrus, cumulus, aurora

themes. SMUT

[warnings] strap-on, oral, fingering, marking, spanking

[gender neutral reader]

ghouls

a/n: i couldn’t resist hehehe

➳ cirrus

soft dom

loves being on top

there will be a strap-on involved

doesn’t matter what you have going on down there

fuck she knows how to use it too

“you just love it when i fuck you huh?”

amazing with her fingers

pants more than moans

gropes your body like no tomorrow when fucking you

love handles will always be sore after a session with her

not a huge fan of marking you up but will do it if you ask

she’ll give plenty of spanks if you’re being naughty

but she’s never too harsh on you

talks you through it

“that feel good?”

you let out a whine that is music to cirrus’ ears.

“you love letting me destroy you huh?”

her hips move and grind against yours as she hits a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. your mind practically goes blank and all you can think about is how good she’s making you feel.

“there! right there cirrus!”

“right here? you want me to abuse this spot inside you?” you nod desperately at her words.

cirrus moves your hips to a better angle which allows her to hit the spot with ease. she reaches her hand between to two of you and starts using those magic hands of hers and it nearly sends you over the edge.

➳ cumulus

pillow princess

body worship

so so gentle

she loves taking it slow

loves to feel you against her

favorite position is definitely lotus

praises you like no tomorrow

“that’s it pretty thing, so good for me”

not super vocal but when she is she whines

like to leave hidden marks on your chest or inner thighs

almost never on your neck surprisingly

also has magic fingers

loves making out while you grind your hips against her

loves getting her hair pulled when she goes down on you

cumulus tucks a piece of stray hair behind your ear as you both mindlessly grind your hips against each other, moving in all the right ways.

“you always make me feel so good baby.” she says cupping your cheek.

the praise makes your head spin and you move so you’re hovering above her and you hold her leg up for better access.

“tell me how good i’m making you feel”

she lets out a strangled moan before responding.

“so so good”

“that’s right, only i can make you feel this amazing.” you say as you move faster.

➳ aurora

she’s a lil freak

acts all innocent but is an absolute freak in the sheets

will have you switch positions maybe fifteen times

loves giving head

and is amazing at giving head

would stay between your legs forever if you’d let her

“your taste is the best thing on this planet and it’s the only thing i desire”

loves to paint your body in markings

thighs, neck, chest, hell even your stomach if you’d let her

she goes feral for markings

like tying you up and sometimes likes being tied up herself

in the rare instance where she gives you control

loves when you’re begging

her moans sound heavenly

loves pinning you down while she does her thing

you’re a mess beneath her, you’ve lost count of how many orgasms she’s pulled out of you. you’re whole body aches in the best way possible so you’re really not complaining.

“you still with me my dear?” she says from on top of you.

you nod mindlessly without even thinking about it.

“tch, i think i’ve fucked you dumb” she giggles, clearly not even phased by how many times she herself as cum.

“i think you’ve got one more left for me, don’t ya?”

for a moment you hear exhaustion in her voice as you pull at your restraints.

“tsk tsk behave pet” 

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

i couldn’t leave my ghoulettes out now could i?

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[madangel19]

Ghostober Day 8: Dom/Sub

Pairing: Cirrus/Aurora

Summary: Aurora is a good kitty for Cirrus

Contains: Dom/Sub dynamic, pet play, kitten!Aurora, butt plug use, vibrator use, spanking, mommy kink

Kinktober list by @kroas-adtam and you guys can also read this on Ao3! This was also sent in as a request by @tanukibby so I hope you enjoy ^-^

Word Count: 714

“Such a cute little kitty,” Cirrus cooed, petting the top of Aurora’s head. 

The smaller ghoulette chirped softly, butting her head against her hand as best she could. She was strapped to a chair, a cat tail plug stuck in her ass and a vibrator strapped to her already slick pussy. Her wrists were tied to the arms of the chair, preventing her from breaking free and grabbing Cirrus. The more she wiggled in the chair, the more the cat tail wagged along with her actual tail. An adorable sight.

“I’m your little kitty,” Aurora chimed, slowly rocking her head from side to side and making the bell around her throat jingle beautifully. It wouldn’t be long before Cirrus would make that bell jingle nonstop with her strap. 

There was so much Cirrus wanted to do with the little ghoulette. Ever since she brought up wanting to do a more intense scene with Aurora, she was more than excited to try it out. 

“Has my kitty been good today?” Cirrus asked, tapping Aurora’s shoulder with a black heart-shaped crop. 

“No ma’am. I stole some cheese from Papa earlier and it was delicious,” Aurora giggled. 

Cirrus raised a brow at her, her smile growing as she tightened her grip on the crop. 

“Naughty. I was going to let you free so you can have a little treat, but my naughty little kitten needs to be spanked,” Cirrus cooed, palming the front of her panties and letting Aurora see the slick that coated her fingers. The smaller ghoulette licked her lips, still wiggling her ass excitedly. 

It looked like she was about to say something before a look of uncertainty replaced her excitement.

“Something wrong, Rory?” Cirrus asked, crouching before her and checking her over. Nothing looked off so far.

“I just realized I don’t have a special name for you, Cir. Like, some people like being called master or mistress with these type of things. What should I call you?” Aurora asked. 

Cirrus smirked, patting her cheek tenderly and getting another adorable chirp from her. What a sweet little thing.

“I don’t care what you call me, hon,” she said, pecking her on the cheek.

“Can I call you mommy?”

Cirrus squawked, taken aback by the title. It had been a very long time since she had ever been called that. Most of the time, she was calling Cumulus mommy, but Aurora calling her that hit different. She was going to like this a lot. 

“You know what, you can, Rory. I like it. You gonna scream like a little slut for your mommy when she punishes you, kitty?” Cirrus purred, placing the crop beneath Aurora’s chin and forcing her to look her in the eyes. 

“Absolutely, mommy,” Aurora said, wiggling her ass and moaning while still maintaining eye contact. Her violet eyes were half-lidded with desire, eager to do anything Cirrus wanted her to do. 

“Good girl,” Cirrus cooed, kissing her hungrily. 

Aurora moaned into the kiss, her claws scratching the arms of the chair. The poor thing was so desperate for her. So needy. So adorable. 

“Mommy~,” Aurora moaned into the kiss before pushing her tongue into Cirrus’s mouth. She tasted and smelled like cherries. 

“You need something, kitty?” Cirrus crowed, pulling away from the kiss and licking Aurora’s lip gloss off of her lips. 

“Just you, Mommy. I need you to fuck me right now,” Aurora whined.

Cirrus chuckled, shaking her head and patting her on the cheek again. Her kitty still needed to be punished before they got to that.

“You’ve still been a naughty kitty, Rory. Naughty kittens need to be spanked,” Cirrus said, holding up the crop with a playful smirk. 

“Can you make it quick?” Aurora asked, giving her big puppy dog eyes. Cirrus grunted, looking away. Trying to resist the younger ghoulette’s pleading eyes was always difficult but Cirrus would endure. 

“I’ll see what I can do, kitty. Scream like a good kitty for me and then I’ll give you a sweet treat,” Cirrus said, going behind the chair where Aurora’s ass was exposed. She lightly brushed the crop along her ass and the little ghoulette shivered in delight

“Okay, mommy.”

Cirrus brought down the crop hard on her ass. The screams Aurora made were absolutely delightful. 

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Ghoul Masterlist

Ao3 Link

List of Masterlists

Any smut will have a star (*) next to it!!!

Ghoul X Ghoul

Only When It Counts* - Swiss X Aether

Wants and Needs* - Phantom X Mountain

Don't Wanna Talk About It* - Omega X Ifrit

Rained Out - Rain X Mountain

Adoration* - Swiss X Aurora

Like You Love Me* - Aether X Rain

Guiding Hands - Swiss X Dewdrop

Magic Hands* - Sunshine X Cumulus

Caught* - Rain X Dewdrop X Mountain

Steam - Rain X Dewdrop

Excuses, Excuses (Part 1)* - Phantom X Dewdrop X Mountain

Excuses, Excuses (Part 2)* - Phantom X Dewdrop X Mountain X Swiss

Tense* - Aether X Omega

Early Mornings - Mountain X Swiss

Ghoul X Reader

Sour Day - Mountain X Reader

Safe With The Enemy - Phantom X Angel!Reader

Essential Oil - Mountain X Reader

Leech - Ifrit X Reader

Step On Your Toes - Mountain X Reader X Swiss

Headcanons

Ghouls X Fallen Angel Reader

Sub!Omega X Dom-Ghoulette!Reader